Empty but Filled

(Darkness....Pounding.....Pounding) A man appears with a bleak face, a complex face, long wavy locks of golden brown hair, rough grizzled beard. His eyes are deep....so deep no light can escape the darkness. Expanding outward you see the figures Iris and its calm blue tint. The eyes have a feel to them, they tell a story. The figures skin pulls tightly against the bones and muscles. In a foreign area the man draws cold to himself. his hair blows in slow motion away from his face. A feeling of calmness takes over, mixed with the sense of the unknown. His mind flashes quickly, the figures face flexes and contracts from the pain the flashes cause. A shadowy figure draws closer.....closer.....closer. A cold menthol tingle slithers down the figures spin. The shadow appears with his clock and sickle. "your turn" the voice echos across the abyss. "your turn" "your turn" The pain intensifies, pain strikes the core of the figure bones begin to crack, veins in his face swell up. The coldness flies over the figures skin and down in to the pores. 'You must continue the cycle". "It is your turn now" the skin turns black, blacker than night. the wind echos over the mysterious land. the figure accepts the offer. The man accepts "The end of peoples days are here" "Bring Death"