Lewis Sage narrowly avoided my grip once before the incident. He was fighting the Confederates on the battlefield, and I had already collected a total of twenty-three souls. Just as a confederate soldier aimed his gun towards Lewis, a Union soldier dove in front of him, taking the bullet straight into his chest. This man was Albert Willman. Albert Willman died in Lewis Sage’s arms. Twenty-four souls and counting. ———— I am Death. I travel the world, collecting the souls of those who have perished, passing them on to their next great adventure. Every once in awhile, there are people inches from death, yet somehow they survive. These are the people that are hard to look at. However, the anguished survivors are the most painful to overlook. Their heads are …show more content…
It also promised a reward to whomever reported of the assassin. Lewis didn’t care as much for the reward as he cared for the revenge. After reading a bit more information on who to contact, Lewis headed to the authorities to disclose the information of the murderer. On the way there, three words kept repeating in his mind: Not a word, not a word, not a word Would it be wrong to tell? The man had spared Lewis’s life, so why should Lewis not do the same for him? But what was the man to do if he did tell? The man couldn’t act out, he was in hiding. The logical thing to do would be to say something. And that’s exactly what Lewis did. He aimed for the authorities with his head held high, not worrying about the past or the future, but about the present. Again, Lewis did not know the name of the man, so he could only limn what the attacker looked like by his appearance. After he arrived at the authorities, they created an artistic rendering of what he had described. The man was tall, with dark brown hair and a mustache. He had pasty skin and dark eyes. When the forensic artist completed the sketch, the depiction looked exactly as Lewis had seen