A Phantom Tales of the Night story
They say death is quiet. A whisper in the dark. A flicker of breath.But they are wrong.
Death rows a boat.
His oar dips into black water like a metronome, each stroke slow, steady inevitable. The mist clings to the trees, gnarled and weeping, as if the forest mourns every soul brought down this river. The Reaper sits at the edge of the boat, hooded, faceless, but always listening.
He does not kill. He does not judge.He only listens.
Tonight, another joins him.
A boy, no older than sixteen, appears on the wooden seat across from the cloaked figure. His clothes are soaked with river water, or perhaps blood. It's hard to tell in the fog. He opens his mouth, confused.
"Am I... dead?"
The Reaper says nothing. He tilts his head, waiting.
The boy looks around. "Where am I?"
Silence again. Only the sound of the water lapping at the boat's sides.
Then, slowly, The Reaper lifts a hand. From within his cloak, he draws a candle, short, nearly burned to the wick and places it between them. It lights on its own, the flame flickering blue.
"When it dies," a voice echoes, though the Reaper never moves his lips, "your story ends."
The boy gulps. "My story?"
The Reaper nods.
And so the boy begins.
He speaks of a town with secrets. Of a girl who screamed only once before vanishing. Of his curiosity that became obsession. He speaks of the door beneath his house,the one that shouldn't have been there. Of whispers that came when the lights went out. Of hands that pulled him into the dark. He remembers… only what matters now.
"I didn't mean to find it," the boy says. "But once I did… I couldn't leave. I couldn't stop it."
The flame shudders.
The Reaper listens, unmoving.
"I thought I could fix it," the boy whispers. "I thought if I sacrificed myself, it would end. But it just laughed. It wanted me to suffer first. It wanted me to know."
The candle flares, bright, then dies.
The boat is empty.
The Reaper places the spent candle into a box beside him. He takes out a scroll, dips his pen in black ink, and writes a name.
Another tale sealed.
Another soul heard.
And as the boat turns, gliding back into the mists, the Reaper waits for the next light to go out.
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The Truth
Some say he is a myth. A shadow that watches...Others say he is cursed, bound by fate to witness the final moments of the damned...But all agree on one thing,if you see the Reaper, your story has already ended…