If Morning Comes

Prologue: The Beginning of the End

The light was dim but slowly brightened the world to a highly awaited morning. Deserted land stretched on for miles. An end in this sweltering nightmare was yet to be discovered, for no one had explored this barren world of dreams. There was a plethora of land obscuring the naked eye from seeing the horizon—to catch a glimpse of dawn was everyone's dream, after all. But now, a mere two hours of awakening from the Unknown, trouble was arousing.

Coarse fur, an onyx darker than the night skies, cloaked a beastly body. Crawling on all four of its paws, the monster sniffed out an overpowering amount of feelings. Its nose wrinkled in disappointment, the beast loathing the blood that'd stain its teeth and the ichor that'd chill its body.

Glancing upwards, the creature began to observe a boy, no older than eighteen. His shivers were obvious; the beast could sight every detail and movement from a mile away. He was leaning against a sturdy, barren tree that no longer had leaves safely cloaking each delicate branch. The beast leaped behind a tree, cautious and aware of all surroundings. Even a human with a breathtaking amount of hearing would never detect the sound of leaves being mangled by the beast's immense paws.

Reminiscent, azure eyes, belonging to the creature that provoked inevitable angst in everyone, monitored the boy. Slowly overcoming the boy was none other than fear itself. No matter how hard he tried to shroud his feelings of emotional dread, he would never prevail, for the beast within him had already begun to gnaw at his sanity. Baring its vicious teeth, the beast lurked in the night, ready to pounce as soon as it got close enough.

It had found its prey. It was time to hunt.

Its strides were lengthy; the fur on its back stood upright. The boy's head hung low, and chocolate brown strands of his hair shielded his vision in an attempt to hide his tears. He couldn't display his weaknesses, for he was bearing the constant pressure to fit in, even when his "friends" weren't around. The beast gave a faint snarl, pity and remorse infiltrating its stomach.

Frigidity enveloped the beast. Although morning was close, nighttime air coursed through the atmosphere and caked the beast's limbs. Still, it fled in a deft manner, unwillingly bustling to the next victim.

His bistre hair bobbed with every shaky breath he inhaled. The boy was alone, apart from the clique he clung to. But now was the time his fear consumed him drastically. While they all feared the Grim Reaper, he dreaded different things: bereavement, and his peers—all the more reason his death was certain.

Throughout the night, the Grim Reaper advanced. Its adrenaline was racing—whizzing as fast as its sprint. The morning was drawing close; it didn't have any time to spare.

A mortal's eyes could now see the scene: a tree bearing no leaves; a weak boy leaning on the sturdy tree trunk; and the beast, appearing hungry for blood—something no one knew was a contradiction to its true feelings.

Through his pathetic sniffling, the poor boy didn't hear the wind whipping around the Grim Reaper. Little did he know the cause of his demise was near. The beast was creating a small crevice with its mouth, revealing its pointed fangs.

It was preparing to kill.

*•*•*•*

Inadvertently abandoned by his sister, Jett Anderson searched through the forest. Tree branches sliced at his flesh as he trudged through the viridian labyrinth, and twigs gnawed at the soles of his sneakers. The vast forest threatened to close in on him; the branches of the haunting trees appeared to be possessed as they reached for him. He approached a break in the never ending forest and was finally rewarded with freedom after all the countless steps he took. However, he came to an abrupt halt as soon as he exited the forest, the color from his complexion vanishing immediately.

A rapid blur hurtled past Jett. His wide, astonished eyes couldn't fathom the situation as the exotic creature dug its teeth into a boy's fragile body.

The two teenagers made brief eye contact. Jett stared at the boy, his jaw practically grazing the ground.

"Help...me..." the boy wailed. "I-I don't want...to die..."

The boy's pale complexion stood out as he gradually lost blood, the crimson liquid oozing from his stomach. Sympathy overcame Jett as he helplessly watched the Grim Reaper claw at his skin, like a cat toying with its prey. The boy's cry for help was soon blocked off by a gurgling sound, and blood stained his pale, thin lips as it traveled out his mouth. The blood blemished the emerald grass as Jett collapsed onto the ground, his hands clenching into fists as he gripped the grass and gritted his teeth.

With one crunch, the gigantic beast locked its vicious teeth onto the teenage boy, and a blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the vast forest before his frail body went limp.

He...was dead.

Jett didn't have the guts to scream. His throat felt like it was about to explode, and he gaped at the ferocious beast standing just twelve feet away from him. On instinct, he began to scurry backward, twigs crunching beneath his muscular body. The beast's coarse, midnight black fur whipped around in the wind as it cocked its huge head in Jett's direction. Its monstrous eyes, which bore an inhumane blue, glared at him. It gave a low snarl. Concealing its blood-stained teeth, the Grim Reaper's back arched skywards, its eyes peering deeply into Jett's own orbs.

Yet the beast hesitated, as Jett's eyes occupied an ethereal sincerity. Even through his intimidation, the teenager appeared to be so innocent—so vulnerable. One twitch of his beryl eyes tightened the entirety of the beast's physique, producing a low, frustrated howl from the creature. It sensed fear in Jett, similar to all other humans. However, he wasn't completely terror-stricken by the Grim Reaper. Its legs slightly trembled. It couldn't find it in itself to murder Jett. However, all the teen wanted was to do was end the Grim Reaper's reign at this very moment.

Jett's chest heaved, hands quivering and palms glazed in a blanket of sweat. Despite his dismay, he forced himself to stand up straight. Shakily, he reached for a holster housing a pistol, feeling the all familiar grip. He exhaled before raising his arm and aiming the gun at the beast ahead of him.

He seized the grip of the gun, stabilizing his weapon with both of his hands. Allowing another heavy breath to escape his mouth, he pursed his thin, cracked lips.

"You've caused me so much pain." He ruefully laughed. "You are the reason I've lived for the people all this time. You are the reason I've—no, we've waited for morning. And you will be the reason humanity prevails...

"...when I kill you."