Dark Planet by W B Sloan |
Whirlpool of the
World
“Shut the door!”
“Where...?”
“... Damn, how
predictable. At a way station, a nodal point on the journey between the ending
of your earthly life and final eradication. You have a decision to make.”
“Decision?”
“In a moment. Look
outside.”
An idyllic rural
landscape; painted perfection. No, not perfect. It moved; writhed sinuously, beginning
to shift, twist and distort. It swirled, faster, vertiginous, a nightmare
undreamed by Dali; the world dropped in a blender. My white knuckles clamped the
rail. Fields flew away, swallowed by surrounding darkness. I began to slip.
The voice snapped
me back.
“... visual representation...”
I reeled from the window, gasping. “... in turmoil; out of balance. I intend to
restore that balance. You’ll help me do that.”
“Or what?”
“I finish my
job.”
“Job? Who are
you?”
“Pass you into
eternal oblivion. I’m Death, Mr Grey.” She smiled. “And I have a proposition
for you.”
150 words
@nickjohns999
This story was written for Angela Goff's Visual Dare Flash Fiction challenge and is a follow on from my previous tales 'Grey's Elegy' and 'Out, Brief Candle' (in that order)
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