The
two souls sat at the corner of the bed, sniffling and whimpering. “I
didn't mean for it to end in this way,” one of the lost souls told
the other. “I just wanted to do what I felt was right.”
The
other soul was not as interested in crying of his fate, but nodded in
agreement with the other. The wind howled out in the dark sky, as the
two waited for what was going to happen to them.
“We
all make mistakes,” the second lost soul said. He contemplated at
the closed wooden door in front of them. Their passage. “But some
effect us more than others.”
“This
is more than a mistake!” the crying soul shouted deafeningly. The
glow of red from the clock said 8:50 PM. Judgment was near.
The
remaining time the souls simply stared with emptiness at the door in
front of them. The wind continued howling, but besides that the house
was made of pure silence. It stayed this way until the clock finally
hit 9:00.
A
soft rapping could be heard. The two got closer, pushing away from
the door to the wall in a futile attempt to save themselves. Yet the
rapping continued on the door, and it's softness turned into hardness
– it's simplicity turned loud.
At
the final point nothing else could be heard but the shrieking of the
souls, the scratching of the door, and the howling of the wind. Then
all sound died.
In
front of the two stood a man with a black dog's head. He held a bag
in his clenched claws, and his deathly, small yet bright eyes shone
and grasped the souls of the lost. Licking his lips, he opened his
barred jaws.
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