Grim

As I sit, thinking about my life,
the green rolling hills go ever onward.
The sky is darkening,
and the crows have come out.
Crows are said to be unlucky.
They croak into the silent eery darkness,
calling to whatever gods will listen.
There is one who is willing...

I'm growing tired,
but... I am ready.
I feel the earth stir below me,
around me,
than fall silent.
Nothing is moving now.
The crows are gone as well.
They are watching somewhere,
probably from the darkness before me.

Its getting really cold...

Something is dancing toward me.
Leaping amoung the creeping, dying grass.
Its moves in silence.
Drifting unlike anything of this world.
This world...

Its fur is the colour of the void
in ones soul.
Its eyes, the blazing signature of blood.
It reaches me,
standing before me.
Its scruffy fur raised in danger.
It sneers,
a cold toothy grin...

And steps ever forward.

I am ready...