Candy Coffins | Black Butler

Death is The Loneliest Experience You'll Ever Know

From where Keya sat, tucked underneath patches of moss and dew, everything looked small.

The heaps of rubble lying past bricks and stones shrunk to the size of ants. The towering trees shriveled to sticks, eclipsed by the still settling mist. And in the middle of the estate sat the oddest of the debris to consider small, Phantomhive Manor.

The Manor itself, glaring above the rest of the failing property, remained unsuccessful in its attempt to overcome the wildlife, but boasted twenty rooms and working electricity underneath the flora of life that covered it. The only amenity it lacked was running water. The pipes had burst during a winter storm and she'd decided to leave them alone. She had no idea of the inner workings of plumbing and no way of learning.

Now, she washed in daylight, digging up water from a muddy stream past abandoned beehives and hauling it to the kitchen to be boiled before letting it cool enough to wash away the dirt and cobwebs.

She stood up, a fresh layer of soil coating her backside. The leaves seemed to sigh, tousled by the wind as she climbed down to the base of her hideout and jumped into the drying earth below.

She shivered, blowing cold air into the fog. She was cold all the time, even near a crackling fire, even in the summer heat that used to drench her clothes.

It should ring an alarm bell, but she'd gotten used to the chill, just like she'd gotten used to being alone. It was a constant undercurrent since her family died. The world was empitier than it used to be and there was truly no one to talk to. There were no more people to stave off the silence.

It had been the two years since her brother died and it was the silence that bothered her most. More than being exhausted and weak when she had to forage for food, more than being cold on the days where the sun scorched the grass. Sometimes, she imagined his voice describing how blue the sky looked, how crisp the winter air felt, and how bored he was following her around. 'Why did he have to follow her around?' When he was alive, he was so childish it made her mean. But he had been dead for a long time now, and she had learned that his absence was worse.

He was the reason she was alive. There was no way for her to give up her life, not when she lived and he didn't. She would crawl through the vines and dirt, swim through muddy rivers and forage till complete and total exhaustion. She would cling to survival until the sun itself collapsed and exploded, ending everything once and for all.

There was a a tiny, vicious part of her that wanted to giggle at the image, but it wasn't funny so much as appealing; the sun going out, the world ending, Keya dying and seeing her family again. She wanted it so much it scared her, but she couldn't die yet. Still, the silence played tricks on her.

And her world had been silent for a long time.

In the distance, the sky burned a brilliant orange and her eyes zeroed in on the line of the horizon.

The sun was going to set soon.

She stretched her arms taut above her, trying to shake her morbid thoughts off and pushed forward, her feet following an imaginary trail as she began her descent back.

By now, the terrain was too familiar for haze to lead her astray. The path through the forest was imbibed- learned and ingrained so well, she could close her eyes if she wanted too. She didn't. She could still see her mother, hands on her hips, scolding her for the way she used to stumble around blindly. People died too easily with their eyes closed.

Slowly, the Manor came into view. The top of the structure peaked through the forestry, a gloomy mess of vines and weeds, crawling on top of each other.

The closer she got, the clearer the manor's stark visage became. Her eyes danced along the walls as the cracks and decay sharpened.

Hers was a world on its deathbed. It only made sense that one day, the manor would erode completely. One day, probably soon, each of the manor's wings would crumble, the roof would cave in- the world would end. The manor was very old, and clinging to the world just as desperately as she was. It was a given that something unstable- the roof, the walls, the ground- would collapse. So she wasn't surprised when it did just that.

When she stepped through the door, there was a split second of complete confusion. She was walking on the floor one moment, then she was falling through it, and her mind was just a beat slower than her body to realize the fact. The wood that had been decaying for years had finally given out, splintered underneath her, and sent her tumbling two stories downward.

For a second, she was floating, weightless and unburdened.

Then she hit the basement floor.

Pain exploded inside her. Punching through her ribcage, rattling her torso, scraping her whole body raw.

It was blinding.

There was a sound like the snap of bones as her body met the floor, erupting from her, a reverberation like she was a bomb, and her body the debris. Again, her mind was a second too slow, and she heard herself screaming before she felt her mouth open. She cried out in absolute agony. She could feel her ribcage shaking at the noise, the tiny little fragments of shattered bone biting into her, but she only got louder.

She couldn't tell how long she was on the ground.

She laid there until all she could feel was the cool concrete below her, and all she could hear was the sound of her own faint, shallow breaths.

And just when the sensation of the concrete began to fade completely she thought she saw a light appear above her, and a hand reach out through the soft white. It could have just been her mind playing one last trick, but what did it matter? It didn't. She felt drained.

Like she just needed to rest.

It would alright if she slept for a moment, right?

Under the soft, warm ray of light, she wondered if there was a God. If she had to die, she wanted to see her family again.

Then darkness flooded in.