Deathwalker 1.1

             The mist continued to curl around my toes like playful kittens as I walked deeper into the graveyard. Where the stones were older and their residents less playful. I scanned the stones that appeared out of the dark mist only to be swallowed again. Their age made the inscriptions hard to read. If not impossible
            That only made them more of a mystery.
            I reached out and touched one weathered gray stone and let my senses extend through my fingertips. Old. Very old. But not old enough. I removed my hand. As curious as I was, I prefer not to disturb the dead without good reason. I could already hear the slight murmur from my touch, like someone muttering in his sleep as he rolled over.
            I’ve heard other deathwalkers call it the opening gates or the shifting of the curtain between the other world and ours. But the best deathwalker I’d ever met thought of it as a freezer door.
            “There are no other worlds, child. People cannot be removed from ours. They simply go into storage.”


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