5.2 Lonely soul

The Reaper slowly slithered toward her as if like teasing her, hissing and baring it's teeth. Serra shakily lit the torch but it doesn't burn. The cold must have dampen the tip. She quickly opened the oil canister and poured the contents generously on the tip of the torch, sending a strong smell of gasoline in the air. She lit the torch again and it burns brightly and violently, devouring the tip with red hot flame.

She tucked the canister into her hips and pocketed the match. She then stood up, bringing the torch forward. The Reaper stopped in the distance, wiggling it's tail and body. It's red eyes locked on Serra and it's claws glints in the sun. The Reaper hissed looking at the fire. The smoke that's coming out of its body looked like the smoke in her torch. She felt a lump in her throat and swallowed.

I think this is how I die, she thought. The torch won't burn forever and prot