Drink to Death
The train rattled overhead like a xylophone spine. She closed her eyes and tightened her fingers around the tattered, cochineal rag.
Excess rainwater collected in a puddle nearby, dripping slow and thick. The sound rippled through her body reminding her. She wet her lips and set her teeth.
Where was he?
Her veins burned. She should have waited to take her medicine, but she didn’t trust him. Fingertips grazed the small vial in her pocket. There was only a little left, just in case. She squeezed the rag and felt the concealed bone reassuringly smooth against her palm.
It was what he wanted, but for what?
She didn’t dwell. She was only there for the money and questions were not required.
Carrier bags whirled and eddied in the corner beneath the bridge. Another train rattled by, wheezing with the same breath as the dead. She clutched the vial. When she got back she would take some more so she couldn’t see them.
“You got it?”
The shaman stepped out of the rain into the protective shadow of the old bridge. His eyes lit on the rag clutched between her white fingers, a greedy glint quickly concealed. The bone silently screamed into her soul.
He reached towards her expectantly, but she didn’t move.
Don’t let him take me…
His gaze moved over her, suspicious and searching. The taut muscle in his jaw flickered. “Did he speak to you when you took it?”
Fear had flooded the eyes of his soul. He’d begged her not to do it and warned her that she didn’t know what she was getting herself into. He’d seen the potion and asked her to take it all, to pretend her powers had failed her and had gone.
Her powers would never fail her. That was why the shaman had come to her.
“No,” she lied.
A sick smile crossed the shaman’s mouth, curling his lip and displaying hungry teeth. “He was one of your kind too. We used to be good friends.”
A shudder passed down her spine, concealed by the rattle of the train.
“Guess what I did to him?” he hissed, leaning in.
Breath sucked from her lungs. The bone fell from her hands, rolling across the dirty floor. The rag dropped to her feet, covering her shoe.
The shaman stepped away. He wiped the knife on his black robe and concealed it once again, stopping only to collect the bone of his old necromancer. His figure disintegrated into the rain.
She clutched her stomach, slipping to her knees, crimson on her hands.
Death swirled around her, tugging like an eager child. It wanted her to play. It wanted her to go with it. She closed her eyes and relinquished to her old friend.
She laid face down in the dirt. Rain continued to splinter the sky above the wheezing train.
Death listened carefully. Satisfied, it changed its mind.
Eyes, bright with new life, burst open. Her lungs dragged in another first breath. She blinked, collecting her thoughts. Memories of the afterlife muddied in and then focused.
Death smiled as she got to her feet.
Her potion vial lay broken on the cold floor. She wouldn’t need it any more.
She knew her mission.
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Wow, great story Rebecca. I enjoyed this. I'm very intrigued about your heroine and her powers xx
Love the way you described death as child who wants to play.
The pictures go well with the story, my favorite is the bottle with the face, it'll likely haunt my nightmares.
Brrrrilliant. I'd be turning pages like a nutter if there were any pages to turn. Your writing is utterly convincing – I feel like I'm living in the moment with her.
OOo, all tingly after this one. There are far too many questions swirling in my head from this scene but I do know one there will be one less shaman in the world.
I agree with Emilia, loved the child Death part. Great work on this piece, you did a marvelous job!
You really do write amazing settings and characters. Your winning streak of me loving everything I read from you remains unbroken.
This one I liked the medicine the necromancer had to suppress her powers, and the very personal relationship she had with death. I imagine she'll be sending a few his way with her new lease on life.
Amazing. I really want to read more. I hope that your dreams come true. I'm with you. I am a newbie at this too. Good luck.
I think anyone who knows me knows I have a fondness for Death as a character but this representation was wonderful.
I like how you set the mood. I didn't expect her to get stabbed. I thought he would be the victim! Great read!
Fantastic! Great setting and mood.
Haunting. I very much enjoyed the internal conflict of the character and the resolution left me intrigued. Great job.
Thank you to all of you for the fantastic comments.
I'm glad my winning streak remains unbroken, David.
And thank you so much, Gail – I hope my dreams come true too. And good luck with yours!
Also, special thanks to all of my new readers & commenters! It's really nice to hear from you. =)