Description
“She died at seven last night, she was murdered. Knife to the chest, she struggled and it was made to look like an accident.” The woman’s memories played through my mind. Lifting my now bloody hand off of her chest, I nodded at the LAPD officials and took the sketchpad. I quickly sketched the man from her memory, and handed it back. “His name is Marcus.” With that, I left the crime scene. You can't run away from your death, it's inevitable. But what if someone could see your death, prolong your end until another time. How much would you pay, to avoid Death's clutches? How many dollars would you fork over to one woman, to extend the ticking clock of your life? Decide soon, because you're running out of time. Tick, Tock. *This story will not be finished. I don't like it, and it doesn't make any sense. I'm going to leave it up, and it may be re-written one day. Thanks for your patience.
Prologue
