The clock is ticking in irregular intervals again.

I wait at the corner of the looming black skyscraper. Across from me is the giant clock in the center of the fountain.

The ticking noises sound out of rhythm. The time is almost here.

My heart quickens. My breathing begins to be brisk. I glance from one side to the next- the area only illuminated by artificial streetlights.

“Oh shit…” I whine about my situation. How the hell did I end up here in this world?

I attempt to restrain myself. There is no use in getting worked up beforehand. Then again, it’s almost like there’s nothing I can do.

The ticking noise comes to a stop.

I take one last breath and begin to sprint; past the clock with the second hand conveniently frozen in the spot between twelve and one; past the fountain with water frozen in mid splash.

The view in front of me was two dimensional. It appeared as if I was running towards a wall with the background painted on it. I approached that background and lunged towards it.

A strange sensation of inflating crept through my body.

I land on my face with a Thud. Behind me was a painting of a cityscape that I had been taking refuge in. I mumble as I pick myself off the ground: I don’t understand how this all works.

“Ssskkttt”

My blood freezes over. I’m almost too afraid to turn to face what I already know is nearby. Yet my instincts scream for me to act- they are probably the only reason I’m still able to move around without being shut down by fear. I turn towards the direction of the sound- my right hand gripped on the barely loaded revolver.

It wasn’t pretty.

It was a janitor, or at least the demented deadly version of one. It was what one would consider the grim reaper to look like- clothed in a black robe, an unseen face, and a giant scythe. Actually, he wasn’t like the janitor at all; especially since he hovered on a cloud of black mist.

“Sssskkttt” The sound of his scythe dragging across the ground pierces my ears.

Before I can react, he swings his scythe and slices the painting I was residing in moments earlier. If I had been in there I would have probably become a permanent figure in that painting. I suppose he just cleansed the painting.

His head slowly began to turn back to me; slowly drifting on that black fog.

My hand is quivering. I pulled the trigger.

*Click*

The gun jammed. I can’t believe it. The gun jammed as this grim reaper of a janitor is about to drive me through.

I fumble with the gun; only to witness the shadow of the monster raise the blade that glimmered in the absence of light.

I shut my eyes.

This is not how I want it to end.

…

…

“Hello Sepher”

A voice with an almost robotic quality calls to me.

I stop wincing long enough to look up.

Before me stands a figure staring at me with cold unmoving eyes. He stands on the cloak of a once dangerous janitor. A five inch blade is buried in the back of the janitor.

A jingling sound is heard as he bends down to pull the blade from the back of the monster.

“Beautiful evening we are having”, he says with more monotone chimes.

Before me stands a bringer of death; a clown of this world.