Death | A flash fiction story
Drawde lay on the scorching sand, his eye twitching.
This avatar is in bad shape. I could really use a new one. One that doesn't have to eat.
His body was covered in cuts and bruises, his skin burnt, peeling off. The sky was an aggressive blue with a giant red sun. A vulture-like beast crossed the sky, hiding him in its shadow for a second — the shadow of Death.
Look at this avatar! Stupid legs barely work. Controls are shit. This avatar is shit. Shit! Name your avatar? Shit. I want out. I’m done with this simulation. Where’s Minda? Shit.
He wanted to say it out loud, out of instinct. But he couldn't say anything — not now. He didn’t move. He just lay there, his body sizzling in the sun. The flying beast circled above him — no feathers, only black, wrinkled skin — closer and closer.
Shit is all I have, but Shit will do good. Death is close now, to end the hunger. All according to plan. Shit will do good and the suffering will end.
The beast landed nearby. Drawde could feel its eyes on him. It approached slowly, opening and closing a large black beak with a hook on its end. The beast looked down at him, its bald head covering the red sun.
Drawde jumped out of the sand and wrapped his big arms around the animal, biting whatever he could get his teeth into. The beast pecked him back, clawed at him. But he was stronger, smarter. Nastier. He locked his jaw on the beast’s neck and shook his head wildly until the animal stopped struggling.
He got up in silence, gazing at the dead beast, his face covered in blood.
“Shit. It worked!” He laughed maniacally. “Shit kills! Shit hunts! Death’s dead!” He screamed to the sun with a wicked smile on his face. “Tonight, Shit feasts on Death!”
He sat down and buried his teeth into the beast’s raw flesh. Dinner was served.