Myself through the dying eyes of another

Che stood before me I did not know what to make of the strange little koman before me. Che had a funny little mustache and wore strange garments, alien to anything I knew. In hin hands che held two copies of the book I knew all to well. Then I remembered. He was the demon in man?s flesh. He was the fallen, me. I knew I had to stop him. If he had two books then he must be looking for mine, I had to get to it first. I ran into the house and I could hear his foot steps hounding me.

In a panic I ran to the kitchen unsure if that was where I had left it. I could not believe what I found. Che had already reached the book and was thumbing through it. How che had arrived first I would never discover. Che looked at me with the same hate held for God.

?You were going to try and keep the book from me, how cute.? Hin voice dripped like black malicious tar. Hin hand was faster than I ever believed possible. I did not see him grab the knife nor even the blade as it flew through the air. The pain was sharp but short as the sharp cooking blade sliced the flesh of my throat and severed the nerves of my neck before I died again, I felt my essence once again pulled through space and time and was consumed I was at last to be no more. It was the void I had sought. What would happen to the world? It was not important.