The Cunning Reaper

My scars had vanished. I cannot truly be sure of exactly when, upon waking that morning, I realized that my left arm, once riddled with scars collected over a lifetime, was now completely clear, the flesh unbroken, pristine like that of a new born baby. This in itself only mildly struck me, for I remained lingering in one of those semi-slumbering states so common in the morning. I proceeded as though nothing had altered, but the house was entirely silent. Downstairs, there were no sounds of l...