Kyndra Prietzel

Period 6
1

The Task

In the bridge of the next dimensions the glossy, glass-like mirrors cascade and reflect
rainbows of color that blind. It is dark in the bridge, but with the many abstract mirrors tunneling
me it gives a glow that is unnatural. Sound itself does not exist. Even the common heartbeat is
inaudible, and makes me believe I am dead.
Every few steps the fitted mirrors picture locations, real or not. Still, there is no sound
eligible to hear, but the sensation and touch are very active. A mirror captures the warmth of a
star, and shatters the atmosphere with blistering heat, but when out of range the heat lessens.
Every step an image of something new opens, and creates the thrilling sensation of being there.
The water sprays on my cheeks from a current typhoon, the ashes that fall as black as snow from
a volcano embeds in my hair, a cool storm of diamonds on the surface of white sands whips my
hair, the vision of a dimension of dogs eating edible rocks so fragile that they turn into purple
dust sticks to my lips, and tastes like salt with vanilla.
Once, a waft of thick, moist air stiffens my nose as a mirrored image closes around a deer
that feasts on a piece of greenery. Behind the animal is thick trunks of trees that are dark in bark,
and a comforting fog that shelters the area. The vision quickly clears as a brush of wind blows
my hair from a turbulent ice tornado viewed from a different mirror. They are all windows,
doors, in the brink of time, space, and existence that capture every moment that has been, is, and
soon will be.
I feel it all, the heat, the cold, the pressure, the forces, even the taste, but no sound.
Walking through the bridge I frequently remind myself my feet are going nowhere. There is no
floor, but empty space. There is no up, down, left or right.
My dark hair shifts in direction, but with direction there is no movement. It constantly
sways, but my fear does not. I have embarked on a quest, and I will stay true. I am certain, but at
the same time uncertain. Certain of my task, but uncertain of the outcome.
Sticking my chin up I reach the mirrored door I have been anticipating, and look at the
etched words within it, Passage of Whom It May Concern.
Gleaming with the risk, the danger, and peril I smile, and press my hand against the
crystalized mirror. At the touch I feel the pricks of glass break underneath. The mirror begins to
crack, and spreads to nearby windows of dimensions. The touch is a ripple effect of desire. All
the mirrors begin to blur from the cracks within with their colors swaying like a too wet oil
painting. Soon, the surrounding tunnel of breaking mirrors stops in its process. There is no
movement, no openings to other dimensions, there is nothing. Then just as an ice castle tumbles
all the mirrors crash below, up above, behind, in front, and in every direction. They shatter like
sharpened sparks from fireworks, exploding in the bridge to become nothing.
Closing my eyes I wait. The tingles in my fingers distracts my thoughts, but then a new
distraction emerges. My eyes pop open as I hear the very alive, the very fast, the very hard
heartbeat of my own. Looking around then I know where I am. I am in Deaths Realm...Right
where I want to be.
Kyndra Prietzel
Period 6
2

Death, just as I, is not a being, but an action involved in biotic attributes. She is an action,
an occurrence, a happening to a being. I am similar, I am an influence, an idea, and with enough
force an action.
Deaths realm is not a lair, but the conscious of herself. It is herself fitted in space, and
time. All around is grey, molding decay that folds in on itself. Here there is no end, and no
beginning. It is a place that through the thick, mold that is made of dead shows ones near Death,
and others Death is anxious to meet. The only sound audible to hear is not the crunching of
bones, or the decay of beings, but the low groans and whines from those Death has stored.
With a smile I take a step forward until the devil herself emerges before my eyes.
Twisting and forming from the thick air within her realm she appears wearing a long black dress,
and a dark veil that shields her eyes upon a heart that beats, or at least a fictional heart.
Risk, her voice deep, husky, and yet feminine. What brings you to my realm? Taking
a chance at something...again?
Yes, I boldly reply. There is something I have wondered, and now, forgive my pun,
going to take the risk to accomplish.
Her arms fold in on herself, as if molding with her own body, and then she bows deadly.
You have caught my interest. It must be very...life-threatening if Death is involved. What may I
assist you with?
Scrutinizing her, I answer through tight lips, There is a task I wish to accomplish.
Mainly, for the sake of the living, growing bolder I circle around her with piercing eyes. Tell
me Death, what sort of risk would I need to undertake to make mortality...immortality?
She twitches. What makes you care for mortals?
Nothing, I shrug. I only pleasure in the danger, the risk involved.
Hmm...What is your proposal?
An agreement. You would assign me a task, and if I succeed then your powers will no
longer be among the living.
And, she cocks her head. if you fail?
Then I will be subject to your wishes, I casually remark.
Fascinating proposition, Death says almost in wonder. I will assign you a task...Find a
hundred worthy souls; ones that will be beyond Death, and that will endlessly fulfill my thirst for
eternity...You will be given one humane hour for each soul. Then, when possible, your mortals
will experience forever lasting breaths of life.
Nodding, I put my hands on my hips. A fair suggestion.
If you fail, Death considers thoughtfully. Then you will cease to exist as only Risk.
You must understand that you mean a great deal of significance to me. Many come to my realm
due to your influence. So, you will cease to exist as Risk, but combine the very existence of who
you are into Deaths whole.
I shuffle on my feet fidgeting. You mean...become Death?
Become a part of Death.
Kyndra Prietzel
Period 6
3

Suddenly, something strikes hard in my heart. An ice cold chill that causes the itching of
a rash to emerge across my body. Standing still I feel it creep up my spine. Fear.
Anger then filters over my fright over the idea that I, Risk, could be overpowered by a
few words. Resurfacing the danger inside, and the thrilling thrive that I attain I create a
mischievous grin.
Agreed.

~
Returning to the bridge I take notice of the mirrors already rearranged to their previous
state. Still, scenes filter and differentiate as I sweep my gaze over each one. I turn around, and
look at the mirror, Passage of Whom It May Concern. With pursing lips I press the palm of my
hand against the glass, and feel warmth underneath.
The glass of the mirror illuminates rainbows of color that blind. The light grows across
the tunnel, and stretches further to existence. As the colors combine with others from open
dimensions they increase in vibrancy. The intensifying glow presses further until becoming
white.
Closing my eyes, I feel a rush of warmth, and then the sounds of women laughter.
Once I open my eyes, I find myself in an ongoing cavern made of sand-like marble with
essentials and decor made of copper. Pillars rise from the floor, but go nowhere except forever
upwards in a dark pit. A soft light brightens the area, but there is no source of where it comes
from. It gives a comforting glow that gives the illusion that this is some stone haven.
Looking around I notice the women. I take recognition of their glamorous clothing. They
eat, drink, and laugh. All of them are uniquely different, beautiful, but different. Some are
human, same attain humane characteristics, but there are those of different species from other
dimensions.
I glare at their flamboyant glee, and push myself past a group of them and stride to the
only thing I know to be the real fake in this area. As he turns towards me the green in his eyes
turn dark, and just as his dimpled smile disappears so do the women.
What are you doing here, Risk? He stands from his hard throne.
Crossing my arms, I clearly state, I need your assistance.
He ponders my forwardness. What with?
I have made an agreement with Death-
Ah, you seek your long lost love.
I seek no companionship...Though I see you have many, I mumble remembering the
groups of females.
He grins, I suppose I am a very lucky man.
Yes, I say smoothly. You are.
Squinting, he creates a suspicious expression. You are trying to flatter me...What is it
you want?
Luck, I want to suppress mortality.
Kyndra Prietzel
Period 6
4

~
After using my ability to forward Luck in taking a risk, he agrees to help with the task.
Though, his usual self-absorbed attributes keeps him wondering what sort of reward hell get out
of this experience. No matter how much I dislike Luck, I know he will help me easily find
worthy souls, and persuade them to die.
However, knowing if they are worthy is problematic. Justice is one of the few who
knows.
After we exited the bridge that slowly collapsed with mirrored sparkles drifting in the
space, we enter the realm that gleams in whiteness...everywhere. The air beneath me, and above
is colorless. Her realm is pure white with sparkles of gold that float lazily in the air like snow
that decided to stop falling. They leisurely move away as Luck and I proceed forward. Even
though my feet touch nothing the noise of echoing footsteps travels throughout the space. It is
unsettling, and yet suitable for the sleek, formal environment that has Justice written all over it.
Justice! I yell with my voice repeating in the air.
Yes?
Spinning around I face Justice, a tall figure with white hair and glowing gold eyeshadow
that matches her shimmering gold lips.
We need your assistance, I begin.
You seek worthy souls for Death?
Yes, I say cautiously.
I am sorry Risk, she turns to leave. I cannot help you.
As she begins to walk away her long white coat flows with her easily, and makes her look
second to an angel.
Beginning to speak she cuts me off, You seek innocence, and I will not aid you in such a
crime. You wish to find those worthy of life so Death may endlessly feed on their pure,
vulnerable, benevolent souls. Perhaps, I could give you a list of those worthy of Death like those
she has in her realm, but if you ask me to give a list of mortals who are worthy to live a life
fulfilled then the answer is no.
I turn to Luck as he fathoms Justices words. Once my glare pierces him he begins to
perspire.
Cousin, he takes a step forward. This is for the sake of mortality to create-
I know, and it is a noble cause, but not one so valuable that it should involve the dying
of a hundred merciful souls.
She turns her attention towards me, and her gaze of striking brown eyes slithers into me. I
can feel her moving around inside. She searches for something. I look away, and begin to play
with one of the purple locks that reside along my black hair. It is a distraction from her gaze, but
not her abilities. I know what she is doing.
Stop measuring my soul! I yell in angst.
Kyndra Prietzel
Period 6
5

Inclining her head, she whispers, This is your choice Risk. You find pleasure in what
you do, I understand, but consequences will always come, and Justice will never go astray.
She then turns, and disappears. With frustration, I turn around to Luck, and find him
grinning with glee. Pulling out behind his back is a record on silver tablets labeled, Justification
for Liberty, Life, and Love.
I grasp them with wonder, and turn the pages to find the countless people of those worthy
to live. The first one hundred I know must be ones highly appreciated by Justice, and these are
the ones I want.
How did you find them? I inquire.
First, I am not my sister, Hapless, he widely smiles. and with my luck I can find
anything in no time at all.

~
Luck and I begin our search immediately. With Luck, and the list it isnt hard to find
those we need to seek. Many of them take only a few minutes to find, and with that I know we
are beyond schedule.
As I whisper risky thoughts in their ears Luck forwards the process be ensuring a high
chance they will agree. I watch as many of them believe in my words, and fall under our
enchantment. Some I whisper to go cliff diving, try a new drink, go car racing, fight, try combat
training, and other dangerous ordeals. By myself, there was always a fifty to fifty chance any one
person would agree to my influence, but with Luck more than half of them frequently relinquish
themselves to our direction. I, Risk, involve a dangerous side to them that they believe in. Every
day I watch them fall, and become nothing just to pursue in my obituary for Death. I relish as
each person dares with an idea, and endlessly fails.
After the perilous events, Death visits them, takes them to her realm and decides if they
are a worthy cause. Each one kneels before her begging for life which she gobbles up like gossip
then smoothly lies to reassure their protection. Different mortals from different dimensions enter
her realm with different reasons to live. Death, however, is dexterous. Turning to her true form, a
misshaped illusion like black gun powder that spins and turns in her realm she awes them. The
particles within her sway like sand, but whenever one touches another they make a sound like
sharpening knives. Her voice booms with clandestine, and echoes deep with control. To them,
she is breathtaking.
They choose to expect Death by touching her. They do not have to, but all of them do. In
a mesmerized trance they cautiously finger a piece of her, and suddenly separate to particles that
Death breathes in making her form move with more haste and vigor. She takes pleasure in their
choice to accept Death, and frequently recollects their dieing to suppress her thirst. It only takes a
minute before she is fully satisfied.
I watch one by one join her realm, and become a part of the decaying mold that sways.
Hearing their cries, I know I have been successful in completing my task. I feel great control in
strength from my menacing ways. I know I have won.
Kyndra Prietzel
Period 6
6

~
Entering Deaths realm, I watch as she feasts upon the creatures choice. It is a creature
that is an obvious white, and so vulnerable it dies under the first second. The fragments of itself
mesh into the black dissolvement of Death, and then turn black becoming unknown that it ever
existed. As I watch Death I notice the specks of her shiver in delight from the life giving form.
I then wish Luck was here. He would be helpful with Death, but I quickly subside those
thoughts with ones of confidence, and pride. Luck did not come, and I cannot waste time on
wishing he would have. He ventured in the experience, but wishes not for a reward or loss,
especially from Death. From his point of view, creating a bargain with Death would only mean
utter demise.
With a grin, I walk towards Death as she solidifies into the black, veiled woman.
I have accomplished the task, I say confidently.
So you have, she says in a trance as if remembering the lost souls. Those hundred you
guided to my realm were exceptionally adequate.
I cross my arms with pride. Then finish your side of the bargain...Give mortals
immortality.
Her figure begins to float around me, circling like a crow. Oh, my dear...I cannot give
that.
What?
I never promised immortality, she snickers.
Yes, you did.
No, I did not...I cannot for it is not my place. These mortals are born with mortality. It is
in their very nature to accept Death. If born with temporary life and unable to die then they
would combust within, become inexistent, and the very fathom of the universe would tumble into
chaos. It is not my place to offer immortality for I am near the end of their existence, not the
beginning.
I suck in a breath at her words, I was supposed to bargain with Life.
Correct, she remarks smoothly. Now you will pay the punishment.
Before a word can emerge from my mouth I feel myself collapsing from the inside. My
throat tightens, and my chest ties in knots. An ice cold grasp liquefies myself into a black water
mass like ink. Anger penetrates my soul, but fear takes control of all my thoughts as I look at my
melting dark body. I try crying, and screaming, but I choke on the thick bubbles within me. I feel
myself begin to slip from being who I am. Pain stretches in my sides and all around to keep my
form from descending down into a black puddle. It is an effort that I strain to keep hold of, and I
cough out black hue with agony.
Falling to my knees, I look up at Death as she towers over me. Her form, still a woman in
black, looks down and shakes her head.
Risk, she says frankly. You are ready to become better in Death.
No! I scream in my head, but I can no longer move.
Kyndra Prietzel
Period 6
7

Bending down she lifts her black veil, and cascades it over the top of my head. I stare at
her faceless expression. She is as gray as the mold underneath her with no eyes or mouth or nose.
However, she does not need those to express herself. In her blank, sickly gray skin I watch
scenes of Death, but moreover, I feel them. Every sting, bite, slash, cut, bruise, and ache that
Death causes I feel it in myself. With the overpowering pain I close my eyes and scream for the
first time. Then I slip away. I feel myself stretched thin in my liquid form like oil spilled. It
tightens, and pulls and I cringe from the experience feeling my whole self becoming less. Then, I
feel a tug as I press back together, but...something is wrong. I cannot feel myself, my
consciousness is turning to ash inside and it feels like hot irons are pressed against it. Then a
thick, haughty element collides, and I can no longer...I feel

~
Opening my eyes, I search my realm and notice the cries that tingle my fingertips. It is a
new feeling, and yet memorable. I do not know how. Everything is a light, sheer black that
changes to a deadly gray. It is home, and I enjoy the sensation of recollecting the dead. The hot
rage in my head diminishes as I feast on their experiences, and continue to remember their pain.
Yet, I feel the urge to do something unordinary. A part of me feels...unexpectedly rebellious. It is
a new force inside of me. I want to die. What does it feel like? It is risky, but Id like to try...so I
will.
Pain screams, and I collapse as I combust within myself. Every echo of yells sting my
memory, and then I shake as I fold in on myself. Then the sensation becomes less painful, but
odd. Shrinking further within I finally explode inside, but with no pain. It only feels normal to
attempt something so...daring. However, everything is silent.
Becoming aware of myself I look around my realm, but I am everywhere in my realm. I
am nonexistent, and yet still...alive. Around my realm, I take notice of a few creatures clawing at
those digging their way out of the gray mass. Once freed, they run and escape through a hidden
doorway labeled, Passage of Whom It May Concern. I chuckle as I watch them escape, a part
of me feels guilty, and another feels giddy. I fathom their existence as they escape; most stop to
try to help those still molding in the gray mass, but it is useless. They are so pure, innocent,
benevolent, eloquent, graceful...and alive. Behind the mirrored passage I notice a bright light,
and imagine it as heaven, but then see a faint hand guide those out with a livelihood electrifying
my home.
I watch them leave, and count them one by one. Once all gone I number one hundred.
The number fairly familiar, but I have no remembrance of why that number would be significant.
Once the mirrored door disappears behind them an echoing voice trails my thoughts,
Consequences will always come, and Justice will never go astray.
I shiver as I remember. I am glad, and yet sad. I am angry, and yet relieved. I remember
that part of myself, and resurface the existence of the other, but only for a moment. I know in a
few seconds the remembrance of myself will fade as it did before, and become wholly as Death.
For now, however, I cherish the simple knowledge I have. I did not win, but neither did Death.