The Myth of Thanatos
Disclaimer: The following story contains themes that might not be suitable for young readers. As he reached the rooftop, he locked the entrance as a reflex action. The rooftop was the most commonplace it could be. Heaps of dust, faded red painted bricks, and rusty metal bars. The world below seemed to continue like it always does. The wind was phenomenally comforting today, as if inviting one to join arms with it. He stared down the road four stories below and observed the everyday traffic jam. Drivers honk at each other, a few just parked their cars wherever they could and congregated to catch a smoke, some complaining as if that would change a thing or two. This happens everyday and yet they never learn. While he was on the edge keenly looking down on those beneath him, he was startled by the sound of metal bars dropping. His face lost its vigor as he saw a woman clad in white standing at the tip of a beam. "Don't!", he screamed instinctively. She gazed towards...