He knew that it was the last page they would allow him to write. He knew that no more could he find respite from their hands in this world anymore.
The nib of the fountain pen was almost on the verge of breaking but he could not stop writing, if he stopped they would strangle him with their bony fingers and pull him down to the dark depths of despair, where he would be only drowning and there will no wall to climb, no mountains to scale and ….
The pungent smell of death had already reached his nostrils and he could not dare to take away his eyes from the diary and look at the corner of the room where he knew that He was waiting for him in order to escort him to the Land which could be reached only after crossing the mythical river of Styx…
“You won’t be finishing that,” said the voice from the shadows..
“But you promised me that….”
His words and stuttering was rudely interrupted by the cold laughter, “I always knew that you were a fool but today you proved that I was right in thinking so…. To trust the words of the Devil….Hahahahahaa…”
The pen dropped from his hands as he looked up and saw the face which had emerged from the Shadows….”No one who saw that face was ever allowed to live”----- he remembered those words when his last breath left his tortured mortal body.