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They mutter endlessly in your mind, shadows of nightmares gaining form and laughing in your head. So heartless she was, even though old age came wisdom. She spoke with indifference to those who have died, walking on them as if they were a mere foot path for her destination. Her grandson was no different. If he opposed her, she would walk him off - not that it happened often. She did this to him, but I was so blind to not realize.

I would sometimes angry at his comments and smart remarks - he just wanted to a stupid joker. But sometimes, it helped when we felt tense or were in a pressure situation. Even when I kick him in the face telling him to shut up, the friends around us would feel lighten and a bit happier - if not a little hopeful.

Now, I go against them. Death had chosen one of our companions out soon. The poor girl went against her faith, and was punished in doing so. The endless darkness that enveloped the damned for betraying their God. Their so-called religion was the only way to heaven and freedom for eternity. But it was not that death that had brought down my last straw. It was when he betrayed how he felt for the child. We were all friends, could he not spare a tear for her?

Influenced by his Grandmother, he followed her through her bloody woods. He walked over the no longer living as nothing. He stepped over the dead girl like she and he never met. Funny - how I use to mock him and his attempts to show his affection for her. But, nothing lasts forever does it? Especially when you have to chose between someone you merely met, or the path already chosen by birth. Nevertheless, I walk below him, like a mirror image in a ice blue lake.

It's not that I hate him and our friends - who still walk with him regardlessly. It is simply that I am mad. Mad that he didn't make the choice for himself. Angry that at that very moment, he decided it was the time to listen to his teachings from his childhood. He tried to ignore them, but they clung on like hungry animals - eating his doubts. I'm still mad at him, and always will be. Since souls like me cannot go to heaven nor hell - for I no longer believe. In this way, my very soul killed me.

I remain here, though all my companions had left. He still walks this earth, and I watch his every move. The world moves in seasons, and I see almost everything that happens. He doesn't smile as often as he use to - or say anything much for that matter. He just walks the path already shoveled for him through the snow. Just walks and walks.

Sometimes, I wonder if I should stop him - and say I forgive him.