Mortuus's eyes fluttered gently as his head cleared, and he began to awaken again. He grabbed his chest and patted himself in panic.
"Nothing? Nothing's changed," Mortuus sat up and looked around him. He needed to find out where he was. But above all else, he needed to figure out what happened.
He looked around for something he recognized, but everything felt foreign. Mortuus removed his revolver from his pocket and held it up. He was in a white room with white furniture. It was only two chairs, a table, and a clock.
He walked forward, looking for something he recognized. "Hello?" Mortuus called out. It was silent for a minute as his voice echoed.
A faint voice repeated his words back. It wasn't his own voice, but something was familiar about it.
Mortuus turned to see himself before he died. "Peter?" He asked, confused. He was staring at himself as a child. How that was possible, he didn't know.
The kid was wearing a dinosaur pajama onesie with teeth on its hoodie that just covered his jet-black hair. The kid had bright green eyes that glowed against his olive skin. What a sweet and pure child, Mortuus thought.
"We've lost our way." Child Peter told him, "You can't keep hurting us."
Mortuus didn't understand. How was he here, and what did he mean? He kneed in front of child Peter, "We were so young, Peter."
He placed his hands on the small boy's shoulders. He was utterly dumbfounded. This wasn't a hallucination. This was real, this was tangible, and he could touch it. "Tell me what you mean, Pete!" Mortuus begged the child.
The child only looked at him sadly. His sad appearance seemed to burn the very soul.
"Too young to remember Mommy's accident." Child Peter said with tears in his eyes. The child seemed to know something Mortuus didn't. He didn't remember any accident unless he meant the night his mother shot his father. Something about the kid's expression told him this wasn't that accident.
Before Mortuus could ask, another voice, slightly deeper than the other, piped up. "Do you still remember how much you changed?"
Mortuus looked over to see a teenage Peter, probably about fifteen, standing behind the child.
He was nearly the same height as him, maybe only a foot or so taller. The teen version was a bit shifty, moving from one foot to the other. His hair was tied in a man bun, and his face was sprinkled with acne. It wasn't horrible, but it was noticeable.
"Remember how much you loved her?" he added. Mortuus just now noticed the hoodie the teen had on. It was a plain white hoodie with black drawstrings, the hoodie Maria died in. This Peter was from the day he met Maria.
Teen Peter looked into Mortuus's eyes, the fear more clear than ever. He seemed to be looking for something in his soul. Teen Peter held his hand to young Peter before turning back to Mortuus.
The small boy smiled warmly at Mortuus before holding the teen's hand and walking with him.
"Don't forget us, Mortuus." both said in unison.
The two faded into the white background as Mortuus dropped to his knees, his hands reaching out. Desperately, Mortuus grabbed at the air, hoping he could find something to hold onto. As he clasped, his hands sunk into the floor like it was really sand.
"Don't go! Please!" He pleaded with the figures as they disappeared. His pleas went unheard as the ground fell to sand in his hands, and the figures disappeared with it. Mortuus opened his eyes again.
His vision cleared, and he could see everything again. Was this the "real" world?
"What happened here?" Mortuus looked around, confused. He was standing in front of the rock obelisk. All around him were vines of black with withered roses. The roses were identical to the ones that grabbed at Michael.
Mortuus picked one up, but it crumbled to dust in his hands. The roses' petals lifted into the wind and became dust as well. The curse that was L.A.S. seemed to have finally been gone.
"I'm free?" Mortuus questioned, his eyes focused on the palms of his hands. Death placed his hand on Mortuus's shoulder.
"Did you find what you were looking for, Mortuus?" Death asked. His voice and question snapped Mortuus back to. He brushed off his hands and looked up at Death.
Mortuus shook his head. "But you did." Death said as he tapped the pocket of Mortuus's trench coat with his scythe. The scythe clinked as it made contact with the pocket.
Mortuus looked down at his pocket wearily. He didn't remember putting something in that pocket, especially not something metallic. He closed his eyes and gulped nervously as he reached into the pocket and pulled the orb out.
"What is this?" He asked.
"It is not I who can tell you." Death said as he vanished. Mortuus stared at where he had stood. "That son of bitch," he thought. "Always disappearing when I need answers."
Around him was a clearing where he could see the sun hiding below the horizon. Its red glare gleamed onto Mortuus's pale white bandages. Around him, the wind whistled through the trees and seemed to almost sing.
A silent hawk glided across the sun, its wings casting a shadow that danced on Mortuus's face. It was a gorgeous bird.
The sight was astonishing. He could see over the tree-covered hilltops that populated the valley below for miles. A large river snaked through the hills and split into creeks and streams.
Eshill Creek, as the locals called it, spanned nearly three miles. Legend has it that the river was formed by a sleeping dragon named Eshill. This dragon became angry with the Indian tribe and killed them. The dragon now supposedly sleeps in the river's depths, angry with the tribes above.
Mortuus thought that it was a beautiful river for being the body of an angry dragon spirit.
As the sun waved its final goodbye and the moon shone its hello, Mortuus turned to the obelisk. Even in the dark, it was a splendor.
"I should head back, I guess." He sighed.56Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhbp2D2FQi5
