Young Writers Society

Purgatory, a place that is neither Heaven nor Hell. Just as I am neither angel nor demon. As one of the cursed immortals of the Earth I wander the continents in search of answers as to who I am and what I did to deserve this.

America, The Roaring 20's
Children play on the street except one; she stands on the sidewalk wishing to disappear. Over one eye is a bandage hiding what is there, only i know what is there. Ladies whisper to each other, "Who is she?" and "I don't remember seeing that child." I am the only one that remembers, only yesterday she was one of those children playing on the streets; dodging cars and laughing with friends. Now no one is her friend, because they don't recall her mother and father chatting with them about the weather and how much they loved spring. Only I know where they are; in a now deserted apartment complex. I expect that their skeletons are still lying there; their empty eye-sockets staring and their mouths open in a silent scream. What killed them I wonder? Was it the terror of the sight before them or the thing itself that split open their chests and tore out their beating hearts? Sometimes I ponder at the question of who the monster is? Is it the Face of Justice with its two sided skull of punishment and reward? Or is it the thing that it turns people like me and that child into; an immortal that lives forever but isn't alive. A being that is banned from the Gates of Heaven and shut out from the Depths of Hell. We are the souls that are in Purgatory; the things we did in our past lives have forged a chain binding us here to the sorrows that plague humanity. Now till the end of time itself i am forced to drag behind a man weary of life but too tired to die. His sorrows are my sorrows and his sins are carried on my back. After his body withers away the iron collar around my neck will then attach to someone else. I am invisible; a spirit with a broken pair of black wings on my back. Since my own body died; i cannot reincarnate. The weight of my sins became too great for my soul to fly. This is the same fate that the girl is doomed to, she will not have wings. Her mark will be specialized according to her crimes and wrongdoings. Mine symbolizes something that i did long ago, so long that i do not remember it. Now i am searching for the Eternal Record; the history of every soul and every era of the world. That is where I must go and right the wrong i did so long ago.