REINER Two minutes turned into two hours. Two hours turned into two days. Two days turned into two weeks. Two weeks turned into two months. Two months turned into two years. Two years turned into two decades. What awaited him was death. A death caused by the dark colors of life enclosing around him, trapping his mind inside repeated and continuous negative energy. It was not a serene death with family surrounding him, but it was a slow and morbid decomposing of the human mind. Repeat . No matter how many times he died, it seemed that he would never be able to grasp the sweet release. A death that felt like an eternal loop. He clawed at the walls of isolation until his fingernails bled out, only to realize how helpless his situation was. Reach . He had been looking for an arm, any arm that would reach out to him. One arm did, it tightly pulled him into his grasp. It may have been time to leave. Even through his clouded vision, he continued to look up into the darkness. He had become complete mush. The walls that held him echoed the pain in his voice, but no one was there to hear him. A lonely ending with no one around him. He reached out his hand, but he had only found the palms of the reaper. Gone . by Benjamin Mark Alan B. Ward
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