Soul Eaters

Status: Finished

Soul Eaters

Status: Finished

Soul Eaters

Short Story by: MARS

Genre: Mystery and Crime

Houses:

Short Story by: MARS

Details

Genre: Mystery and Crime

Houses:

Summary

The dead can eat your souls...

Summary

The dead can eat your souls...

Content

Submitted: January 11, 2011

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Content

Submitted: January 11, 2011

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A A A


This piece was inspired by Chapter 14: An Honest Tradesman from Charles Dickens book, a Tale of Two Cities.

 

I climb up the stone walls late at night and search for your grave. No stone has yet marked your territory and the scent of musk rises from the freshly tilled soil. My trembling hands grip the rusted shovel I bring and I begin to dig, wanting to finish this burden before morning rises. The cold, crisp air chills me to my core. It is too quiet; all I hear is the chunking of my shovel on the soil. Your image plays in my mind, dear boy, back to that frightful night.

Dear boy, a killer saunters towards me. Who’s shining eyes glint with my same shade of blue? What forsaken moments did I waste that you have come to this? What warmth do I see? Whose young eyes once cast on butterflies with such curiosity? What warmth? There was none. My dear boy, a killer, come to slay the fruit he came from. Such cruelty stabs a mother’s heart. Death’s shroud land on my dear boy, a killer, my son who lies beneath this soil, his unwell mind lain to rest.

The cord that binds our blood cannot be broken till I see with my eyes your peaceful slumber on your satin bed. For fear for my own soul has taken over a mother’s love. Fear that you will one day come to take my life. Dear boy, your mind was unwell and your soul was eaten away.

My shovel hits the roof of your coffin and in moments I am able to lift the lid. I see you there, immobile, peaceful, dreaming in your unending slumber. Your mind is well at last though guilt washes through me for your blood is on my hands.

Such beauty lies on the face of my son. If only warmth ran through him once more. I lay on the glass, over my dear boy. Such closeness binds our cord once more. Sleep, dear boy, while I sing:

Moon shivers, light glimmers

Over the river Styx

Past the guards and past the eyes

Of those soul eaters

We ride.

 ...

The next morning a woman’s corpse was found on her son’s coffin in his open grave. The woman was rumored to have lost her mind after her unwell son tried to kill her, and she had killed him in the process of defending herself. And when they found the woman, her hands over her son’s heart, a smile on her lips.


© Copyright 2016 MARS. All rights reserved.

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