The last things Murdoch Sowter could remember were a pair of striking yellow eyes, a throbbing pain, and a few memories of a woman, a man, and an elderly couple.
That was all. Everything else he was unable to recall, his name included.
Murdoch swiveled his head around, distressed. He took a good look at his surroundings.
A beach. Why was he on the shore?
Chest heaving, the troubled man continued to look around him. Then, a yell echoed in the distance.
"Murdoch!"
He stood up abruptly. Who was Murdoch? He did not care, for he was in dire need of help.
Squinting his eyes, he only managed to see a dim light being waved around in the fog, on the ocean. He assumed it was a person on a boat.
He uttered his first word since he had woken up with very little memory.
"Hello?" He yelled back.
No reply. Just a desperate call to this 'Murdoch'.
"Murdoch!"
"Please, help me!" No reply, yet again.
"Murdoch!" That was the final shout of that name he heard that night.
He breathed through his nose, his body shaking. Raising his trembling hands only caused him to stumble backwards.
His hands were translucent, allowing him to see through. The panic he felt swelled up inside, and it rapidly increased when he saw a horrific sight just through his palm.
He nearly toppled over. A corpse. A corpse was on the shore. Death granted them a cruel demise, for their body was a sickening purple, with scratches and gushes of blood.
Murdoch's stomach lurched. He bent over, wheezing. He covered his mouth, before... wait.
Scratches.
He frantically searched his body. Patches of blood. The only difference... was the purple.
It took him a few panicked moments to comprehend the situation.
Was he... dead? Surely not.
Right at that moment, Murdoch was yanked away from the beach with such force that he felt his stomach lurch once again.
He landed upon a smooth, yet hard floor with a heavy thud. His body curled up, aching from the sudden impact. He pressed his palms against the cool flooring, steadying himself.
His next words came in short breaths.
"Good heavens..." Murdoch muttered, "what is this?"
"Murdoch Sowter." A booming voice hit the land, echoing in each direction.
Murdoch flinched, and looked around agitatedly. In all directions, a large, dark cloud hovered only just above the ground, concealing whoever spoke with such a powerful voice.
"Who is it?" Murdoch sucked in a deep breath, before hollering his next words with all the confidence he could muster. "Show yourself!"
A chuckle with a hint of snarkiness in it reached his ears. He immediately regretted opening his mouth.
Footsteps sounded.
"Murdoch Sowter."
That name again.
"Thirty-two years of age. Married to Yvonne Sowter, and has been for nearly eight years."
Murdoch's ears would ring each time the reverberating voice spoke.
His mind ran with thoughts. Murdoch Sowter? Again? Why must this man be so important?
His voice trembled. "W-Who..."
He pressed his lips together before he could say anything else. It would seem that speaking at a moment like this would be, indeed, quite idiotic.
"Was a teacher for just a few months longer."
Finally, the footsteps paused in their path.
"Shall I continue?"
Murdoch's jetblack eyes landed on the bare feet in front of him. They uneasily gazed up, and was met with milky ones.
It was as if those eyes had so much meaning behind them, as if those eyes had seen many things, as if those eyes were blocking all lies, and full of the harsh truth.
It was a man, but no ordinary man. His face held a blank expression.
Murdoch stiffened. He was unable to decipher what thoughts the unordinary man could possibly be thinking.
The man leaned forward. Murdoch could feel himself shrinking to the floor as this powerful being loomed before him.
"You don't know, do you?"
His breath hitched. He did not dare open his mouth.
The being treaded slowly around Murdoch, who felt so awfully small.
"Hmm."
He stopped pacing. He was right in front of Murdoch.
The man's mouth stretched to a wide grin. Murdoch was not prepared for what happened next.
A hersterical laugh bubbled out of him. It was booming and haughty. "I do love making a dramatic entrance!"
Murdoch finally mumbled, "what..."
"Do you have any idea who I am?" He said, snickering.
Murdoch pondered this, but had no clue.
"Do you?" He's still cackling.
Murdoch cracked his mouth open, but no words fell out.
"Do you?" He repeated.
The man answered before Murdoch could say a thing. "Death."
With that said, truthfully speaking, the being here was not a man. He was only Death, wretched and cursed to strip the souls of many.
Do forgive me for getting that incorrect.