A man is walking through the empty walkways of an abandoned cemetery. His coat is as black as the shadows around him. His hat is as battered as the burden he carries in his heart. He had pale skin, his bronze hair scrappily overlapping the glow in his eyes. He was rugged and alone while walking along the hallow chambers of remembrance. It was agonizing. He was tenaciously looking for a certain tombstone. While striding he catches a glimpse of a familiar sight. It was an old oak tree.

A dead grand oak is standing in the middle of the desolate cemetery. Its branches were dried and shriveled. It was clear that flames once set it ablaze. It had hints of burned trunks around its edges. Its bark had scratch marks on it. There were no leaves, only memories of them. It was standing there all alone, shades of the luscious green sight that it once was. It died that night.

“Memento mori, old friend” He remarks, with a grin on his face.

Then, he remembers.

A boy is running for his life. There was gunfire. You could hear voices of pain and agony echoing through the wind. The boy was scared. Gasping for breath, he scouts for a place to hide. He was all alone. His family had been butchered. The child is fighting for his life.

Tears started falling down from his face. His wavy brunette hair was a mess. His skin was paler than usual. The boy wept because of the shock. He can’t think of anything to do. He was terrified.

Suddenly, he hears a faint sound from behind him.

“Who’s there?” he asked, with his face looking scared.

No one replied.

He looked for the source of the noise but to no avail. There was nothing.

He was agitated.

Then the wind grew stronger all of a sudden. The trees were swaying as the leaves rustle through the air. There was a loud bang not far from where he was standing. A pathway to an old cemetery opened. He hesitated to venture in at first but he was desperate. His parents had been killed and there was no other place he could hide to. So he went in.

While he was walking, a voice in the wind whispered in his ear.

“Raphael…blessed angel….”

He looked back. No one was there. The boy could only hear the wind around the cemetery. There was nothing but old graves and filthy mausoleums. He was baffled, but fear got the best of him. So he went inside… into the deep uncharted steps of the consecrated cemetery. The boy then disappeared into the darkness.

The moon revealed itself that night.

“Heh…”

He gave out a slight grin.

“Some things never change.” he thought. “A person is said to have been born into this world ultimately alone.”

Raphael pauses for a while, looking up he sees the starlit sky that hovers through this desolate sanctuary for the dead. Images from the past were flickering through his mind. He ponders silently, closing his eyes and senses the dim aura as a swift breeze blows through his face.

“And one also dies in a solitary state as well…” he said, while feeling the air.

He was alone in the waking hour of night. There were no ravens hanging on branches to utter nevermore. No black cats to cross his path and give him bad luck. There was also the absent of maggots devouring the decomposing corpses around the dead. He was clearly and utterly alone in this solitary sanctuary that once housed his fears.

“In the end, the only person we could really rely on is ourselves… One cannot enter and leave this plane with the company of someone else…”

Raphael stares down to the ground. He smirks.

“I have to find it.” He utters silently. “This ends now.”

He wanders around more, risking into the consecrated cemetery of his past. Raphael is searching for a grave, a tombstone that meant something to him. He was restless. The one thing that he has always searched for seem to have eluded him since that day… for it was first time he had killed a man.

“For it is not in our hands should we dictate the outcome of another person’s life.”

He stood still and pondered. Raphael closes his eyes and put his hands together. He was trying to pray a solemn prayer, while lurking deep into the darkness of a hollow cemetery. He had a flicker of hope in this heart.

Raphael begins to implore.

“Our father thou art in heaven, holy be thy name…
“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven.”

A boy was seen praying. He stopped abruptly when he felt someone’s presence.

He was interrupted.

The boy was kneeling down in front of a church altar. He stopped praying when he felt a hand placed on his right shoulder. It was a priest, garbed in a black robe. He was looking at the boy who was pouring his heart out to God.

“Young one, what brings you here in the house of God at this hour of night?” the priest asked.

“Why father, I have to make a confession.”

“The wound scars me too deep. I think I’m going crazy. I need to atone immediately” the boy said.

The priest was listening attentively.

“God bless your soul, child” He said, with a warm smile on his face.

He places his hand atop the boy’s head.

“Now before you go to confession might I suggest that you reflect first and compose yourself?”

The boy nodded.

Then the priest went inside the confessional booth. He was patiently waiting for the boy to enter.

“Take your time, child” said the priest as he was closing his blinds.

The boy just stood there.

“Will I really be forgiven?” he thought.

He was all alone, standing in front of the altar. It had a remarkable Victorian design. Candles were lit around the Holy Bible as the boy stares over. The boy then looked up at the statue of Jesus Christ hanging on the cross. It was a painful sight for him. The statue’s face was in agony as it was looking to the heavens. Its body was bruised and battered. The statue was portrayed in a bloody mess, there were wounds everywhere. Hints of bloodstains were reminiscent from the wound where it was depicted to have been stabbed by the Spear of Destiny. The statue of Christ was writhing in pain.

“He died on the cross for our sins...” the boy remarked.

He took out his handkerchief and wiped his face with it. The boy then proceeded to climb to the statue and started touching it. A custom he used to practice while living in a rural town. He placed his handkerchief on every wound of Christ’s body. His hands were moving smoothly as if he was wiping the blood off a real body. The boy carefully looked at every wound on the statue torso.

“One great act of sacrifice…” the boy said.

Then, the hair on his back started rising. He was stunned. The boy noticed that his handkerchief was suddenly drenched in blood. His eyes then stared at the wound where the Spear of Destiny punctured Jesus. It was dripping with blood.

“What the?!” he said.

A strong gust blew his way after that. The candles around the Holy Bible were suddenly extinguished. The lights were getting dimmer. The blood dripping from the statue started to fade.

“…God…heals all” whispered a voice.

The boy stared back, searching for the source.

But nothing was there.

He was dumbfounded.

The priest suddenly emerges from the confessional booth.

“Anything wrong, my son?” he remarked.

The boy stared back and started speaking restively.

“Bless me father for I have sinned…" he muttered. “I-I k-kil...”

Tears were gradually dripping down his face.

“Remember that you are only human.” Raphael said. “… and with every breath shall it be told that we are still amongst the living.”

He sat on top of a deserted grave. He rested there for a while. There was no coffin, only a huge hole dug out from the outside. There was probably a grave robber in the area that stole the valuables of the dead. Raphael found that appalling.

“Be mindful of death.” he uttered.

All of a sudden he sensed something on the opposite side from where he was sitting. A raven landed on the cross of a tombstone a few feet away. Raphael anticipated the black bird’s gaze. He smirked.

“Here to say nevermore eh?” he jokingly said.

The raven just stood there, focusing his stare towards Raphael. It was glaring at him, hard.

“Pardon my manners. I’m a fan of Edgar Allan Poe you see?”

Then suddenly, something flashed in his mind. He remembers.

“Wait… I think I’ve seen you before. You were there that day weren’t you?”

The raven deflects Raphael’s stare. A red glow in its eyes started to emanate. It suddenly flew away, disappearing into the night. The raven’s shadow was still a bit visible as it headed off to the sky. It can be seen passing through the moon that was radiating that night. The image dwindled into the heavens as the clouds started to clear. The moon was shining.

Raphael was alone again.

“Heh… you should stop reminding me of my memories, raven.” he said, with his face looking down on the ground.

It was raining.

The boy hastened his pace. He ran deeper into the uncharted steps of the consecrated cemetery when he heard a loud gunshot in the distance. It was the killer. He was slowly catching up with the child. The boy started squirming when suddenly he noticed an oak tree standing in the middle of the graveyard. He prompted to traverse into the oak tree’s shade for shelter. The heavy rain helped him glide his way through without notice.

He was safe… if only for a little while.

“What do I do? What do I do?” the boy spoke restlessly.

He saw the silhouette of the killer lurking behind one of the tombstones, searching for him. The killer’s long black coat was as dark as a shadow. He looked terrifying even with his groggy postures. The terrorizing figure had a long messy beard, a scar on his forehead, and deep set eyes that pierced to the core. He had bloodstains on his hands. He was breathing heavily.

The killer was tenacious. He didn’t want any survivors from that night. He wanted to taste the cold blood of the people he had killed. Letting the boy live would only lead to his blunder. The lurking shadow is seen searching in every nook and inch of the consecrated cemetery. He was determined to lay the boy to rest, just like he did for the child’s parents.

“Come out, come out wherever you are…” said the killer.

The murderer was steadily looking for the boy while speaking. He was holding a gun in hand the whole time. He had the ferocity of a tiger with the way he uttered every word. The killer’s aura was clearly full of rage and sadism.

“You’ve been a very naughty boy” said the killer. “And for that I’ll make your death slow and agonizing.”

It was raining hard.

The boy was terrified. He attempted to hide himself between the roots of the oak tree that were uprooted. He was cowering in fear. Paranoia got the best of him. Even though he took shelter under the oak tree’s shade there were still hints of droplets of pouring down his face. So he decided look up. To his astonishment there was a raven up the branches of the old oak that provided him a place of hiding. The raven was silky black, but he sensed something was wrong. The black bird looked liked it was staring straight into his soul. It was a penetrating gaze.

Suddenly, he heard a loud scream from the darkness. He saw the killer nearing towards him.

“Gotcha, kid” he said with a smirk in his face.

The angst figure was facing up and started licking his lips.

“Hmmm...” he whispered, and then proceeded to stare at the child.

“Your blood will be stained by my hands, boy” he exclaimed. “I shall taste it like the foul dog that you are.”

The boy couldn’t move.

It was raining even harder that night.

There was a showcase of lights in the night sky. Echoes of the thunder’s rumbling fueled the tension, as the killer continues to penetrate his glare at the terrified child. He looked like he was ready to pounce at any second.

It was a stare off.

“Your move, boy” said the murderer, with his eyes fixated on the child.

The boy just looked at the killer. He was a mere ten feet away. Even though it was raining pretty hard he could still clearly see his silhouette. He couldn’t think of anything to do. Any wrong move could lead to his untimely demise. So the boy did what any 11 year old Catholic kid would do, he closed his eyes and prayed for a miracle to happen. He wished for the killer to go away. This feat made the killer laugh hysterically.

“Hahaha… wrong move, kid” said the murderer. “I give you a chance and you freakin’ pray?!”

The killer then ran towards the boy and grabbed him by the head. He proceeded to punch the child in the gut and kicked his right leg. The boy fell down.

“I told you that I’m going to make your death slow and agonizing.”

He kicked the boy in the gut a second time.

“Uggh…” cried the boy.

The child was writhing in pain. He was sobbing hard. The thunder began to rumble even harder in the distance. The boy lost all hope at that moment. He was lying down in the muddy ground all bruised and battered.

The killer continued the stare down.

“Stupid kid, you should’ve done something than pray”, uttered the killer.

He then punched the kid in the face and kicked him a third time.

“Wouldn’t even give a fight… how pathetic”

Seeing the boy lying on the mud made his blood boil. The killer then lowered his gun on the ground and grabbed a stick with a sharp edge that was lying around.

“You know, I don’t even need a gun to kill your sorry ass” he said. “I’m just gonna stab you with this stick and it’ll be all over”.

He walked towards the kid. With every step there was a hint of rage and pleasure growing. He attempted to grab him by the neck and then held the kid by his shirt. The killer’s eyes stared a maniacal stare as he saw the boy weeping and defenseless. He then stabbed him with the stick in the right abdomen. There was blood streaming out. The wound penetrated deep in his body.

“ARRRGGGHHH” cried the boy.

The killer then took the stick and attempted to lick the blood off it.

“I love the taste of blood in a cold night” said the killer.

The boy just lied in the ground. He was half-conscious. Blood was flowing out of his side like how it poured when Christ was punctured by a Roman soldier’s spear. The rain continued to drip down on his bleak expression. Memories of his life then flashed before his very eyes. He saw the memory of how his parents were killed in cold blood. He couldn’t do anything. He had lost faith.

Just when he was about to give up all hope, he suddenly heard a voice in the wind.

“Purge… the evil…God…heals all”

With a little surge of strength he tried tracing the source. But nothing was there. There was only the heavy rain in the heavens and his maker facing him a few feet away.

“Somebody help me, please…” he thought.

All the while the raven was just looking at the incident. It saw the whole thing. It was curious. The black bird saw the expression on the boys face and decided to fly close to him. The boy saw the raven land on a cross of a tombstone near him. It was staring at him. The child then proceeded to gaze back.

“Help me…” the boy whispered.

The raven gazed back. Miraculously, it nodded. The black bird was staring deeply at the eyes of the young child. It seemed like he understood the gravity of the situation. It gave out a faint cry and flew off to the darkness of the heavens. It disappeared. The boy was left alone.

“You’re on the verge of dying and you freakin’ talk to a bird?!” the killer exclaimed. “Hah… how pathetic can you get. Just die already.”

There was exhilaration in the expression of his face. He was nearing his goal. As the killer was nearing the boy a bolt of lightning suddenly struck the oak tree. It was set ablaze. The flash blinded the murderer and left him disoriented.

There was a chance.

Seizing the moment, the boy then used up all of his will and tried to crawl away. The child tried to sum up all of his courage. He was fighting for his life. While he was crawling on the ground the boy noticed something shimmer. It was the gun. The pistol the killer had lay down. The boy then tenaciously reached out for it. The nearer he got to the gun the more he had hoped. He wanted this to end once and for all.

The killer was trying to focus his eyes.

“Damn, lighting. Why the hell would it strike at an important tim…” he stopped.

The killer’s vision started to clear. He was stunned. He was looking at the bloodied boy who was lying on the ground. He had a hold of the gun. The boy was slowly pointing it at him.

“Wait a minute” said the killer. “We could work this out you know?”

The child had a vengeful look in his eyes.

“Nevermore!” he cried out.

The killer could only stand and watched the boy bravely fight back.

“You killed my family… you are evil!” the boy exclaimed. “I will purge you from this world.”

He started to rise, while still holding the gun. He never let it point in any other direction. His finger was on the trigger. He aimed the gun at the murderer’s head.

“This ends now!” cried the boy.

A loud rumble can be heard from the distance. The thunderstorm was still rumbling. The rain was pouring harder by every second. And then, a miracle happened. Lighting struck once more.

“God…heals…” whispered a voice in the darkness.

Then there was silence.

Raphael is seen standing in front a hollow tombstone. It was aged and eroded. The grave was covered by moss. There was no name engraved on it. It only had the phrase - Memento Mori -.

“Looks like I’ve found it at last.” He uttered silently.

He then knelt down and started to grab something from his back pocket. It was an old gun. Raphael laid it down to rest atop the tombstone. He then gradually started to rise.

It was a starry night. The moon was up and the weather was cold. There were even hints of smoke blowing out of Raphael’s nostrils as he exhaled. He was done. Raphael was able to carry his cross to its final destination. The burden in his heart started to fade.

“I guess that takes care of it” he said. “I’ve had enough of this memory.”

Raphael then decided to tilt his head downwards and closed his eyes.

“Let the dead stay dead.”

He made the sign of the cross and slowly opened his eyes. He then steadily looked up to the heavens. There was a gentle breeze that night. Raphael ponders. He decided to go back at the dead oak one last time.

“I guess this is goodbye, old friend” Raphael said, while facing the oak.

There was no response.

As he faced his back to the dead oak a gentle breeze suddenly blew his way.

“Blessed angel… God…heals all” said a voice in the wind.

He looked back. But no one was there.

Raphael then gave out a sly grin.

“Thanks…”

While walking into the opposite direction he heard the branches of the oak rustle. Raphael looked down. He saw a silhouette of a bird flying past above him.

“So it was you all along…”

Raphael grinned once more.

He then went on to the opposite direction and started walking. His image grew smaller the farther he walked. Raphael faded into the night. Nothing was left.

The memory started to dwindle.

[At an old church seminary]

A boy can be seen kneeling down on the side of his bed. He was about to go to sleep. Like any devout Catholic boy, he prompted to pray before resting his weary body. The boy then closed his eyes and put his hands together.

He began to pray.

“Angel of God, my Guardian dear,
To whom God's love commits me here,
Ever this day be at my side
To light and guard, to rule and guide”

It was quiet. There was a serene atmosphere inside the bedroom.

“…Amen” he whispered.

The boy made the sign of the cross afterwards and tucked himself in. He lied down in the comfort of his warm bed, waiting to envision a night’s dream.

“Time to sleep” said a voice outside his doorway.

The child faced the doorway. It was the priest. He was garbed in a black robe.

“Yes, Father Gabriel” the boy replied. “I’ve finished my prayers.”

The priest then approached the boy and placed his hand on the child’s forehead.

“Have a good night’s rest” said the priest. “Remember that you are mortal.”

The boy nodded. The priest then gave out a warm smile.

“Memento mori, my son” uttered the priest.

- Memento Mori -