The
briefcase blaring alarm clock disturbed the young man's sleep. Keeping his head beneath his pillow, he blindly slapped at the snooze button, but to no avail. Defeated, the young man submitted to screeching noise and sat up. But in the end, he decided, he would win this battle. He took his pillow from behind him, took aim, and launched the plush projectile at the annoying alarm clock, knocking it off the bedside table. The man smiled, he had silenced the wretched device.
The man's name was Cory Freeman, an honest, hardworking young man trying to make his way through life. He lived in New York, New York. Until that fateful day…
Cory slowly forced himself out of bed and got ready for his job at the coffee shop. When he had showered, shaved and dressed, he grabbed his wallet and left his apartment.
When he got to the sidewalks the noisy hustle and bustle quickly made him wide awake.
Cory made a right turn and slowly worked his way through the crowds towards the coffee shop. When he came to a crossing he impatiently waited for the little neon white stick figure to appear on the other side of the street along with many other pedestrians. He internally sighed with relief when it finally did and he was able to cross. But as he reached to middle of the street he saw something that made him stop in his tracks.
At the other end of the crossing stood a man in a pinstripe suit, he was holding a pitch black briefcase. He seemed normal enough, he had graying hair and a thin mustache-goatee combination and normal enough features. Except for his eyes. They were cold, dark, endless pits of misery and death. And they were staring straight into Cory's soul.
Cory panicked, he couldn't move. He was filled with fear and misery and every other negative feeling capable of a human being. Then he heard the horn.
A loud, piercing horn cut through into Cory's thoughts. He turned and saw a city bus coming straight at him, not stopping. He flung himself as far as he could manage and landed on the dirty asphalt, hard. The bus sped past, missing Cory by centimeters. When he looked up the man with the briefcase was no longer there.
Cory pushed himself off the ground, not surprised anyone had offered to help him in this busy morning, but he WAS surprised that nobody seemed to have noticed. They just went on walking, not even glancing at him. Had he imagined the whole thing? No, Impossible, he had scratches on his hands from where he caught himself on the asphalt.
Although the event disturbed him, he continued pushing through the crowd on his way to the coffee shop. Scared or not, he still had to make a living.
When he was almost to the coffee shop he past one of the many alleys along lining the streets, and something stopped him. He didn't know why, but he was compelled to go down the alley. Something was calling him into it.
He slowly entered the dark alleyway, working himself deeper and deeper into it, until he reached the dead end. Then all of a sudden curved blade came out of nowhere and hit right below his head, touching his neck, but not cutting it due to the curve in the blade. But it also pinned him to the brick wall.
Doing his best not to move his neck as to not cut himself Cory looked at the blade. It seemed to be a shortened scythe. But his brain didn't have time to comprehend this before he heard slow footsteps in front of him.
Then the man took the pen and crossed out something on his paper. Cory had a gut feeling it was his name. The man methodically replaced the paper and pen and smiled evilly and Cory. Then he snapped the
briefcase shut.
Right when it shut, the scythe cut across Cory's neck at lightning speed, he didn't even feel it.
Then he slumped to the ground, his vision fading fast. He saw the man bend down and look at him with his pitch black eyes and say
