Transparent reaper stared into my eyes, he looked neither menacing nor comforting and his cloak had a huge question mark on it. We were standing on a mountain top, and the reaper pointed down to the residue of a blood laden teen aged battle field. All the grass and dirt was riddled with the color red. Exploded blood and guts hung off the bushes and tree branches. Dismembered survivors of some political war where screaming in agony which was piercing to the ears.
The Reaper then pointed me in the opposite direction where soldiers were laughing in lush green grass, and multicolored foliage that was highlighted by clear watered streams and magnificent water falls. Instead of shooting at each other, soldiers on both sides used their weapons to shoot empty cans and bottles of various beverages. No one was dead or wounded, and laughter echoed in the valleys of Valhalla.
Mark Schurr
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