Andromeda

The Endless Night

The vision was white around the edges, and everything was hazy through the mist. The room was dim, the only illumination some residual light from the corridor blinking through the open door and the faint glimpses of a streetlight through closed curtains.

A man was alone in the room, lying in a bed. His dull eyes blinked up at the ceiling, looking at nothing. It was quiet, peaceful. Distant voices filtered in, much too far away to be understood. A faraway door closed.

This was a place of death.

And, like she had just been invited, the Angel of Death appeared. She was a tall figure, her head nearly brushing the door frame as she entered. Her long white dress and hair as long as a river dragged behind her. Her bare feet made no noise as they stepped toward the man because they weren't touching the ground. Instead, they were floating above it. Her face was too dark to make out.

The man didn't notice Death. He continued to look at the ceiling, oblivious to everything around him. Death stood next to the bed and looked down upon him. The face of Death was still too hidden to make out. What could be written there? A face without any features? A mouth full of sharp teeth?

Death reached out a bone-white hand and touched the man's forehead. He blinked again, then his eyes filtered over to Death.

"What the hell took you so long?" he asked.

And Death laughed, her voice a melody of bells. The laugh rattled the world like an earthquake and stroked an infant's face like a soft kiss.

"I've been waiting for you," she said.

"I've been waiting for you longer," he said.

Death sat down on the bed next to the man, and suddenly her face was visible, revealing a beautiful girl with silver skin. She leaned her face down close to his, like a tiger about to devour its prey. "I doubt that," she said.

"You look good."

"You look awful."

The man grinned. "I grew up."

"I can see that."

They were quiet, looking into each other's eyes for a long moment. Death leaned down and pressed her forehead against the man's, then she pressed a kiss to it.

"I owe you something," he said, then found her hand as it pressed against the mattress. He took it in his own, then kissed the wrist.

"I didn't forget," she said.

"I know."

Voices, louder and younger this time, echoed through the hallways, approaching the place of death like ships drawn to a lighthouse in a storm. Death glanced up to the hallway, and the man watched her.

Two children burst into the room, laughing. They ran up to the bed, oblivious to Death sitting among them. Death watched, and the man watched Death. A small, amused smile was on her lips, and she followed them with her eyes. The children held tiny plastic flowers in their tiny hands, and they raised them to the man. "Look at what we bought downstairs!" one of them shouted, and the man smiled at them.

"That's beautiful, baby," he said.

One of the children seemed to notice the white hand there, and followed the hand to the arm, to the body, to the face of Death.

"Who are you?" the child asked, looking at the specter in the mist.

"I'm a fairy," Death said, and the child's eyes lit up.

"A fairy?!" the child said with a gasp and a wondrous smile.

"But you don't have wings," the other child said.

"I do," said Death, "you just can't see them right now."

"Why is your hair so long?" the first child asked.

Death tilted her head slightly. "To help me find my way."

"When you get lost?"

"Yes," Death said. "Sometimes, I get lost in the world."

"Oh," said the child, fidgeting with the flower. "I get lost sometimes, too."

"I know," said Death. "But don't worry, you'll always find your way." She reached toward the child and tapped the flower with one finger. The flower began to glow, brighter and brighter, and the child squealed in delight. Death reached out to the other child and touched the flower, which turned into a butterfly that flew up into the place of death.

The children giggled and ran out of the room, shouting, "Mommy, Mommy, look what the fairy did!"

Death and the man watched them leave.

"They're perfect, you know," Death said.

"I know," the man said.

There was too much to say between them for that tiny bit of eternity they were given. "It was you, right?" he said. "Back then. It was always you."

"I didn't want it to be," Death said.

"How are the stars?"

"Perfect," the girl said. "They're waiting for you."

"For me?"

She smiled. "We've been expecting you for quite some time now."

"Does that mean you're finally bringing me along?"

Death nodded. "I made a promise to a boy once. I have to honor that."

"Thank God."

Death brought her hands to the man's hair, running her fingers through it. "Being old doesn't suit you," she said.

"No, it doesn't."

Death stood, and it felt like she filled the room. She held a hand down to the man. "Then come with me and be young again."

The man took the hand, and a boy rose to his feet, leaving the old man behind. The girl and the boy intertwined their fingers, and walked out of the room together.

I followed them to the hallway like a vengeful spirit.

The lights in the corridor flashed and blinked. The two walked slowly, and the boy looked all around him at every little detail, from the tiny cracks in the wall to the buzzing of the lights.

Death stopped suddenly, and the boy looked at her. She turned and looked right at me. Which was impossible, this was just a vision, none of this was real.

"What is it?" the boy asked.

Death just smiled and held out her open hand. I could feel the hand as if I was touching it. I knew those hands. I had felt those hands. They were cold and perfect.

I close my eyes and go to her.