Hunger grips my stomach, reminding me of the truth behind sensation. Different barks of starvation ripple from one side to another, an aggressive brawl consuming what I once thought to be a simple inclination. But that isn't even the beginning.

The tendons and muscles I'd accumulated throughout my life are fragile. The tiniest flinch could make me scream.

My stomach growls again and my arms seize a bit beside me. Locking them to my waist, I feel out my surroundings.

A polished, slick surface greets my skin. Smooth at first, it almost feels so clean one would mistake it for wet. I brace for the worst and open my eyes.

No hospital. No obnoxious beeping or intrusive doctors telling my parents the situation. No one asking for spare parts. Sick knowing coils deep inside my check and I look down. A sleek black marble beneath me stretches eons in all directions, the light fading all around like a horrible night terror. Nothing but empty seclusion.

Pick a direction.

The words graze my consciousness in a monotonous whisper.

I use as little strength as possible to sit up, hissing through gritted teeth when pain bursts through my nerves. A lingering sting haunts me, but my eyes are already searching each path before me.

There are no hallways, simply glowing paths of white light reflecting along every midnight tile. One in each of four directions. All of them lit with the same pure aura, none more special than the other.

None of my senses pick up on anything else. No sounds or smells, not even the faintest hint or clue as to which direction I should take.

On hands and knees, I manage to right myself before taking a step on both legs. Vertigo washes over me, blurring my vision and almost throwing my momentum back onto the harsh surface.

I slowly spin around, establishing that every pathway is indeed the same before settling on the one in front of me. The lights behind me open up, the trails vanishing. Down a few feet, a familiar brunette male steps forward with an outstretched hand and a shy smile. "Come on, Holiday."

His voice chimes perfectly, echoing in the large expanse.

It felt too perfect, surreal.

"What are you doing here, Nathan?"

"I've come to see you off, of course. No one should go through this alone, not even you."

My eyes narrow in on him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Something similar to amusement flickers there, beneath the surface of his eyes. "You've always had that voice in the back of your head telling you you're wrong, telling you that you're not good enough. Who's really to say what anyone deserves? We'll simply have to see when you reach Judgment."

Judgment.

The sound is enough to burn my throat.

This isn't a silly dream or some plastic heaven made to bring my soul joy and peace. I still have to pass through the gates or whatever tribulations this world demands of me. Perhaps even discover if a particular religion stands to reality. Yet, Nathan's appearance begins to darken and withdraw.

I take a step back but the other walkways refuse to show themselves, only my ex-boyfriend stepping closer and closer.

Glancing over my shoulder, I notice something flicker off in the distance and make a split-second decision to run. Run from Nathan. Run from the replica of the man I used to love, his soul couldn't possibly be here with me. He is alive or so I would hope.

I find myself sprinting farther into a small, strange sliver of darkness. A pathway only barely remaining from the light opening up. Something lingers in that void, an indistinguishable rectangle with silver hinges.

A door.

Pushing my heels as fast as they could carry me, I reach out to the gleaming metal and latch on to it. A grandiose knob with intricate designs molded deep into the metal. The door swings open against my weight and I slip onto my chest, sliding across the floor.

Interesting choice...

The voice flows freely through this room. A slow clap following from somewhere off in the distance.

Peeking up through thick black hair, I see the black boots of a dark figure stalking towards me. Each step is slow and calculated with deliberate grace. Purpose. A dark cloak flows with them, curling in the air and rippling in their wake.

They stop inches from my face and squat beside me.

"Holiday Warren," the shadow says. A masculine voice, deep like a purr and yet subtle and cold. "You certainly weren't one of the people I was expecting, but I always appreciate a surprise."

My eyes trace over the combat outfit - uniform black and practical only - with blades tucked into sleeves and compartments around the pant line. A hood is drawn tightly over the face of my addresser, revealing nothing but the shape of a man's head.

The head inclines in my direction, a shaded smile showing for mere seconds. "Not to mention coming in to take up the last spot... I might've hoped for better, but my guess is you have a few more tricks up your sleeve."

My lips part to speak but nothing comes out, just stammering in my head echoed by my heart.

Playfully falling back on his butt, the man crosses his legs beneath him and starts toeing at my elbow with the tip of his boot. "Is this thing on?" He asks with another laugh. "Now, now, you're probably wondering why you're here, where you are, or maybe what the hell I'm even talking about, right? Believe me, I intend to explain the implications fully, but I have a question for you first."

I blink, too stunned to move a muscle and far too sore to express my confusion for the current situation.

He watches closely, analyzing me. "What would you say the worst thing you've ever done is, Holiday Warren?"

The length of my full name feels like a punch the second time, but I assess his question against the buzzing in my mind. Small things come up like petty theft and stealing my best friend's boyfriend in middle school, but it all seems so silly and insignificant now. My head reels with possible options until I freeze, eyes glazing over when I settle on a worst.

This past December...

The man's posture and overall energy seem to shift, lightening up with the horror spilling over my eyes in the form of tears. "Don't be like that, Doll. You didn't mean to kill the woman."

A sob gets stuck in my throat and I almost collapse onto the marble.

"Would you like a clean slate Holiday Warren?"

My eyes widen, fear and amazement washing through me in stiff, immobilizing waves. "How?"

"We've gathered a few souls for the occasion. Pure-light's like you who would otherwise be sent away for such simple mishaps. If you win, we could take away all the stigmas from your family and friends, give poor Mrs. Johnson her life back, and you... Well, you would wake up on the pavement in your lover's arms without a scratch."

Senseless noise comes sputtering out of my mouth, words dying as soon as they leave my tongue. Impossible. A deal? At what cost...

"Are you... Death?" I ask, the only question willingly building into any coherence.

He tosses off the dark hood to reveal the blackest hair I'd ever seen, shades of night almost woven into his very being. Golden eyes stare back at me, bright with entertainment and joy but the laugh he gives is more alarming than anything. "No, I'll be your Handler while His Godliness oversees our little contest. I'll be taking you to him when you're ready."

I swipe my hair back and get into a proper sitting position, flexing random parts of my arms and legs to check for capacity. Everything works, but how well can only be told with time. My hands and feet were slower to react than normal and with each thought came a second of stiffness before.

"So what can I call you then?"

A catlike grin spreads across his lips. "Whatever you'd like, Sweetheart. But for now, we should be focusing on the competition."

"Competition?"

"Yes, yes. What do you think I meant by win? You'll be competing with other souls like yourself for a chance at a new life."

My hands tighten into fists in my lap. "What kind of competition?"

"Hmm," he muses, thinking for a moment. "I would say kill or be killed but that would be a lie. No one has to die, but somewhere along the way, these contestants start going crazy. I'm not sure what it is about the challenges but they turn on each other. Though, I don't think I should say more without His Unholiness present."

Helping me up, my "Handler" matches my pace with ease, escorting us off into more darkness that glows underfoot. We walk in silence for a moment, likely measuring each other up in stance and posture.

Obviously, I'm no threat. Yet for some reason, he seemed to eye me like I could pose one. Only when we reach a corridor that begins to resemble something more ancient and castle-esque does he relax.

"I don't feel comfortable without something to call you," I murmur, adjusting to the new firelight and observing the interesting artwork lining the halls. Many doors - all shut tight - are tucked away into small alcoves.

Tossing a glance over his shoulder, he chuckles a little bit. "My last charge only ever called me Asshole, I wasn't quite expecting any manners or forthcoming."

"So why not tell me?"

Silence. The taunting demeanor drops for mere seconds before a subdued calm replaces it. "Demetri."

I nod at the small concession, breathing a little easier with some sense of tangible truth.

We get to a grand door with ancient marks running around the trim and embroidering the knobs. The wood is painted red with deep brown trim and black hinges, reminding me of an old era in books. Demetri rests his hands on the door before holding my gaze and giving a firm warning. "Brace yourself."

"For what?"

He pushes the giant doors open and screams carry out into the hallway from a large dining room. Putting a hand on the small of my back, we walk towards the center where a circle of people is gathering.

Two people are on the floor in leashes, crying and clawing at their necks. A few others are unconscious at their Handler's feet. A strong man stands next to a more limber Shadow, so I understand the difference in personalities.

Leaning into my ear, Demetri takes a deep breath and whispers the words I've been dreading most. "Most of them don't know they're dead."

Welcome back!

Total Word Count: 2,107

Enjoying the prompt? Me too! Granted, as a Novella this will already be shorter than most of my works but I'm looking forward to a full plot with you all!

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