Train Station

Steps echo throughout what seems to be an anomaly, an empty train station on a Monday. Especially this one, she remembered how jam-packed the station would be every time she travels over to her great aunts' house with her family every week. She glances around nervously as the unsettled feeling set inside her stomach. The only other person there seems to be an old-aged man sitting on the center benches. Just sitting there patiently with his cane by his side and newspaper in hand. He looks up at a pillar to his right, watching the clock. 

Somehow their eyes met and they stared at each other for a minute.

Moments pass by until he finally looked away as he smiled.

She dint know what to do, the train wasn't here yet and there was no one else with them.

'Just him and I.'

She decides to come over and invited herself to his company. Her anxiety was kicking in and while the silence felt awkward to her, the man seemed fine.

He sits in His own kind of comfortable silence, not making a single move to acknowledge her existence. Just continue to stare Straight out in front of him.

Soon she was able to do the same, and continue waiting.

she wasn't sure exactly what she was waiting for but she knew whatever it was,

It was coming.

Even though it felt like time hasn't moved, she knew it was until several moments later until the man finally made his move.

"So where are you heading?" he asked, folding his newspaper and putting it aside. 

if there was one thing she remembered her mother pounding into her head was to never talk to strangers. 

No matter how old or fragile they seem to be.

She stood by her sentiment and kept quiet, continuing to look straight forward waiting. Copying the man's previous behavior. not acknowledging his existence. That was until a frail old hand appeared out of nowhere waving right in front of her face. She quickly leans back in shock, 'personal space much'.

She cants help but looks back at the owners of said hands that were now resting his head on his hands as they grip the head. 

Shockingly grey, seemingly ageless eyes that were looking up at her from his posture with a glint of mischief. 

"It's nice to see that their still occupants up there."

"are all old people this troublesome or just you?"

"Weren't you taught to respect you, elders?"

"Weren't you told that waving your hand in someone's face would automatically get you decked no matter the age, Wether its instinct or not?"

"Are all young people so violent?"

"Are all old people so annoying?"

This old man just continues pissing me off, everything just seems to come back around the circle with him. My mother always told me I hold a short fuse like my father and it wouldn't take much in making me cross. But let the good Lord knows that I was reigning in my temper until this guy got the gall to laugh.

Let heaven know that,

Hell Hath No Fury Like A Women Scorned

He stops stares me straight in the face with a knowing look on her face. " Little lady wants to fight now eigh?" He said with a smirk on his face. 

" Well, who told you its alright to pick on little girls?"

"Well who told you its alright for the previously mentioned little girl to fight grown men"

"Just now that I am not above fighting old men"

He didn't seem to be taking her seriously, she was about to start something again before she finally notices the calluses and bruises in his knuckles.

she looks back up into the amused grey eyes of the stranger.

she observes him for a couple of moments, examining him closer and decides its better to keep her mouth shut from what she finds. She remembers what her mother said,

" Don't be talking to no stranger no matter how old or frail they seem."

'he's most likely a fighter, and experienced one to boot.'

He waited a few moments for her to retaliate but she never did. " Don't anything else to say? ", waiting with what akin to be hope.

" Oh, and here I was hoping to see the infamous Clarke family temper of the youngest".

My eyes widen and I can't help but look over at him in shock.

"So do I have your full attention again?" he said with the same playful look from before. 

" you know me?"

" Of course, I know you. How can I person of my occupation not know you?"

He ignored my confused look as he went and opened his newspaper he put aside.

Who knew I could even become more confused at that moment until he started opening his Mouth:

"Your name is Emilia Clarke, the youngest daughter of Kareena Davidson And William Clarke. You are the youngest of three in a mixed, blasian family. Pending age is 17 years old and has been training in Mixed martial art since the age of 13. Your personality is a fierce, fiery, and impatient type. Not being able to turn down a challenge or back down from a fight...."

As he continues going off on a tangent of miscellaneous facts about her, she just sat there wondering if this is a decades-old perverted stalker. But she came to a different conclusion that is a bit of a stretch but matches the situation from some of the strange urban legends she's heard. she wasn't exactly sure about her guess so she decides to just ask.

" hold up, who are you and why would knowing all these things about me to be a part of your 'occupation' ?"

He glanced back up at me from his chronicle papers. He sighed and looked at her with a disappointed look on his face. " and here I was thinking you were a smart one." 

He puts his newspaper to the side and finally fully faced me. He crosses his legs and leaned back, putting one hand behind the bench as he looks at her with a smirk on his face.

" If you haven't figured it out kid, my names are Thanatos and I'm your Grim Reaper." behind him, a pair of dark midnight wings seems to open up from his back.

That's the moment when the Stations clock finally struck 12 and the long-awaited train speed in, bringing a burst of air that made some of the stray black feathers float.

 As the passing bright lights blind her she couldn't help but think one thing. 

'I ducking called it'