I never comprehended the concept of death. It was an abstract topic, constantly being shoved around through heated arguments and heavy controversy. And yet, when I found myself standing in front of the tombstone, my eyes ignoring the rain that fell in torrents, I realized what it really was like. My grip on the pistol in my pocket grew tighter.
A flash of lightning.
"Samantha..."
My eyes grew watery. I could swear one of those tiny pearl droplets of water would have rolled down my cheek, if it wasn't for the heavy rain that had already drenched my lethargic body. I lowered my head and began to walk away. Maybe, it would be better that way.
The crunch of boots on soil sounded. The hair on the back of my neck immediately stood at attention, and I swerved my head back. A figure stood a few feet away, not moving. Watching. Maybe I should have left. Maybe I should have just sprinted off. Maybe I should have drew my pistol and shot the person. But, my curiosity had overwhelmed my sense of fear. I placed one hand on where my pistol was and backed away slowly.
"Who're you?" I hollered with intent, my eyes never leaving the figure. It began to walk towards me. I didn't know what to do. And just then, a flash of lightning sounded in the sky, and for a brief second, I saw a fleeting glance of who I was looking at.
It was a person clothed in a stained jacket and blue jeans. A male. His entire body seemed to be stained with something. And where his head should have been, was replaced with a box, the sort of cardboard parcels you would find in a warehouse. And on the face of the box, a sloppy smiley face was drawn.
My eyes widened, and a breath hitched in my throat. I froze. The figure seemed familiar.
Another flash of lightning. That was when I caught sight of the stains on his body.
They were blood.
I drew my pistol, incredulous at what I was looking at. Maybe it was a prank or whatever, but I wasn't going to take chances. I swiftly backed away, quickly swerving my head around to check how close I was to the gate.
The boxhead didn't seem to notice my pistol. Or care. He continued taking a few steps ahead, lifting one of his hands to reveal a machete he was holding.
I felt sick.
Another flash of lightning. The machete was completely stained in the same red he was splattered with. I desperately pulled the trigger, attempting to deliver a warning shot. Nothing happened.
Another flash of lightning. I quickly turned around and ran as fast as my legs could handle, attempting to get myself, as far as I could, away from whatever that thing was.
Another flash of lightning. I ran to the gate, and tried to open it. It was locked. The first scream of anguish escaped me. I clawed at it, throwing punches at the lock.
Another flash of lightning. I swerved my head around, seeing the figure raise his machete. He was so close to me now. The box on his neck seemed to tilt in gleeful sadism. I clenched my teeth and shut my eyes.
A few seconds passed.
A few more seconds passed.
I opened my eyes. He was gone.
Another flash of lightning. The heavy downpour seemed to have subsided into a slight drizzle.
Another flash of lightning. I looked down at my hands. I was holding the bloody machete. Before I knew it, I had began caressing it. It seemed so ... useful.
Another flash of lightning.
Another flash of lightning.
Another flash of lightning.