Playing with Death

An imaginative composed by Aoife (Year 7) and edited by Hayley (Year 9)

Nobody, dead or alive, will ever get over the trauma of that fearful day—2027, World War III—when he came; when dark shadows lurked over cities and his arrogant grin took charge. The God of Death had decided Earth was his and people died left and right. He left those who managed to escape to lie in the aftermath of nothingness. Earth turned dull; hope faded faster than life and everything had changed from that day on.

Earth became a living hell. Regret and sadness always loomed over humans’ shoulders, knowing true colours of their now deceased planet. As generations passed, Earth’s good old times vanished from remembrance, their home was lifeless, death was destiny and everyone had accepted that. It was the year 2745, he now held the light of the earth, people would obey him, and no one would dare disregard him—not even think about it.

Except a little girl named Willow.

A bare village stood still, like every other town. The villagers roamed the rubble ground day after day, although day was just another night, tensely waiting for death to arrive. All across this kingdom, death would come, to every house, in every village, demolishing human flesh just for fun. The adults worked 24/7, pleading for mercy, hopeful they would be proved worthy. Everyone knew, deep down, that this would never happen as the God of Death truly believed that he was the ruler of possibly anything he can grasp into his cruel control. A young girl lived amongst the others, in the barren, black and white world. Although life was a dull simulation, a dreadful life to live in, she had a spark of hope in the depths of her loving heart, she believed anyone could be kind, even if there heart was was as hollow as their world. Every day, her dad would go and work with endless effort, he, too, had fallen insane, exactly what the God enjoys, watching the humans be humiliated, before they suffer a hideous death.

Every day, Willow would daydream of how beautiful the Earth could be—if everyone realised there was more to this lost planet, more than just grim lives, we, too, could experience the wonders, of not only beauty, but pure happiness. She spent most of her time alone, but this wasn’t always the case. Five years ago, Willow had her mother, the kindest, smartest, and strongest woman she had ever known. Her mother would tell her stories about her great ancestors and the world they lived in: radiant sunshine, green vegetation, surrounded happy families and everyone went around peacefully, in harmony. Her mother was the sweet vanilla touch to her life. Her mother despised the Death God. She stood up for what was right; she tore down barriers of fear. Without any safety, she stepped into danger. As expected, the consequences were made. That was the last time she would have to put up with living in a horrid world. Now, five years later, Willow, too, still believed that good could come from all evil, even if it took great courage to do so.

The God of Death sat with sovereign in his almighty castle, rows of dead corpses—of the bodies who ceased to live another day—lay still, with faces frozen in time, in fear and abasement. The God of Death—his only purpose to watch the lives of innocent humans dreadfully vanish. Beside him, in his throne of dead souls, was a small light. As long as he has this light, the world will evolve around him. He will have power, but if this light ever gets into the hands of someone else, their heart’s desire will become true. This is the Gods secret: the ancient light was made long, long ago. The creator was hopeful it would not get into the wrong hands, but life cannot be simple, so the light was miserably placed with the God of Death.

Willow patiently sat in her room and stared up at the gloomy sky. After a while, she noticed that her dad had not come home yet. Another hour passed, and her dad still had not arrived home. She tried to take her mind to the obvious solution. The sky clocked midnight, and still, no sign of him. She glared out of her window, out across the ruins. In the distance, a horrid palace stood—large and ferocious. Faint screams bellowed from the underworld, and spirits—their dead lives—haunted them. She was tired of letting her family, friends, neighbours—innocent people—die. People had only attempted to find him—her mother included; this was willows time. She would do it. She would go to the Death God. She closed her eyes, trying to feel her mum and dad’s presence. She wasn’t doing this alone.

She packed some stale crackers from the cupboard, in case she became peckish; a torch as the sky was very dark; and safety goggles; fire was very common here. The Death Soldiers did this to murder families. She took a deep breath and questioned her decisions, but she knew she had nothing to lose—nothing. She turned, didn’t turn back, and started her trail to the palace. It was long and hard. The debris scraped the sides of her ankles, the air felt eerie and the land had a mysterious touch. The sky was empty, the land was bare, and the people were tedious. She wondered why anyone would want a life like this. The Palace went from a small dot in the distance to an immense building, towering over the world—with crystals and rhinestones, art, and corpses spreading across a valley. She tensely tip-toed across to the towering entrance, then shakily help her hand up to knock on the large timber doors.

An eerie silence followed before the doors creaked open. There was no person or being behind the door, which put Willow at unease. Her heart was beating so loudly, she was sure she could hear it. A long, blood-red carpet extended down a long hallway. Images of humans—piled up, wounded and most of them dead—hung all the way down, of what seemed like the war. Down in the corner of one picture, a label read: 2027, the God of Death captured the light. He was crowned king without hesitation. Willow paused at the words, "captured the light.” This confused her but she kept her track on to the end. Her pace was steady and quick; she made no noise while observing the palace walls. It was a dull hallway with rich gold accents. Then an image came into view—a shadow, almost, with a cunning grin. Willow carefully ducked behind a tall pot with dead flowers, listening to the conversation ahead. A daunting voice spoke, "Go find your daughter. She has gone from your home. Bring her to me immediately.” Willow peered over to see a gargantuan dark, ghost-like creature—larger than anything she had seen before. Then there was a skeletal woman, dressed ragged and poor. The woman had a frightened, squeaky tone; her thin body was almost like she was fading away. But Willow noticed something: the woman’s soft smile, was barely visible, but you could make it out if you knew her well—and this was Willow’s mother. This meant they were talking about Willow. All of a sudden, the creature vanished, an extraordinary thud bellowed, an echoed for almost a minute. Willow quickly realised she was just in the presence of the Death God.

The narrow lady (Willow’s mother), made her way down, on the verge of tears. She was going to look for her daughter and then bring her to the God. Her head hung low and miserable. Willow just stood before her mother passed her; their eyes caught for a split second before they both paused. They very quietly stepped, then they broke into a hug—heart warming and sweet. Willow’s mum was still alive. Willow briefly explained her plan: defeating the God of Death. Her mum was astonished but very worried. She knew that the likelihood of success was extremely slim—nearly impossible, Willow asked one thing, “What is the light?” Her mum froze, as she was the only one who knew of the secret. She went closer and whispered into her ear. "The light holds this world together. As long as this light is kept safe, he will be forever king." She processed this and turned to her mum, then proclaimed, "Bring me to it". Willow’s mum tried everything to decline, but her faith in Willow came first. So, she stepped up to the dead flower pot, and just behind was a tiny little button—ruby red, gleaming amongst the rusty wood. She looked at Willow, and both nodded. Then, they fell.

Down they went, speeding as fast as lightning. Jet black surrounded them, and they held each other’s hands tight. All of a sudden, they landed in a small room—grey walls closed them off with no way of escape. Willow soon noticed the streams of blood on the walls. The, the enormous pile of bodies, lifelessly lying, stacked up like rag dolls who have been murdered. Bare, bloody arms and legs were left—raw flesh, dry and dead. They both were still, in pure fright. Blood still dripped from the wounds, bodies, and limbs of the people. Most people looked like their body was ripped apart by hungry beasts; others were simply frozen as if they had been watching this horror scene. Beyond the bodies was a glowing light—dim and shallow, but a light. Willow suddenly fell out her gaze. Her mother, who had seen this before, looked down in sadness. Her droopy head looked up, her eyes about to gush out with tears. Willow looked up at the top of the pile—there he was: her dad, dripping in fresh blood. Willow broke into to tears but quickly held them back. Her heart ached in sorrow. She remembered why she was here—to get justice for all these innocent lives.

She ran, climbing on limbs, on bodies—she kept going. Her mum, below, was scared that the God would come. Willow didn’t look down, only up, just like her hopes. As she reached the peak, the was pitch blackness—an empty void. Disappointment struck, but the faint light gleamed. She jumped. She fell. Cold air rushed as her hair flew; the light grew bigger, stronger—almost beckoning her to come closer.

She thudded to the ground, the light now illuminating the small room.  Her body felt unreal, but in her reality, she felt  hallucinatory. Her gaze was set on the light. She cautiously moved forward, reached out her hand, and grabbed it. The predicted setbacks never came, but a warm feeling started to disseminate throughout her body. She sealed her eyes as the surroundings started to change. Her legs were lifted off the dusty ground. Her dainty body levitated like a feather. The world began to spin—and everything went black.

Suddenly, she hit solid ground. It was like nothing she had felt before—the air was fresh with a delicate breeze. She opened her eyes, and to her amazement, fields stretched across the land beneath an azure blue sky. Flowers of radiant colours gathered in groups around the crunchy green grass, which tickled her ankles as she stood. Her skin was soft and light. For the first time in her whole life, her heart beamed with joy. Her face shone with felicity. A luminous ball of light gleamed across the mountainous valleys. Trees extended tall with thick oak trunks. Birds, butterflies, bees, and spiders flew and crawled around the luscious creations.

Willow had done it. She had erased all evil. She had become Mother Nature. This was a day to remember—a day of new life, new dreams, a reset for good. Good would reign. Willow held her heart tight, her mother and father by her side, admiring the real beauty and harmony of their planet.