The archive of the forgotten

Deaths depths

Death does not look like a grim reaper. No, he is not even scary. How could he be? How beautiful must he be when even the thought of him is soothing to so many people.

Death is beautiful. He has crystal white hair and icy blue eyes, the coldness reflecting in the blue tint of his face but his warm smile somehow made it more comforting. His finger tips are purple as if the blood has began to accumelate there. But they remain elegant, soft and comforting. His white beard shows his beautiful age and his golden framed glasses almost make him feel human. I look at him on his black throne. he has such strength, how can be so gentle and kind. I feel a cold tear on my cheek, why have I always been cruel? Why have I always been feared? Why have I always been blamed?

I am one of three sons, my older brother chronos and Oneiros, my younger brother. My name is penthoon. Chronos has half long white hair and green eyes, Oneiros has brown hair with red eyes. And I have black long hair with black eyes, the darkness of swallows me when I walk fast enough through the tunnels of our home: The After. The only thing that distinguishes me from my surroundings is my bone white skin, reflecting the light that isn't present.

I curl into a ball as I cry and look at my brothers sitting on the thrones in front of our tall father. The middle one the only empty one. Because I do not know who I am. Chronos is time, Oneiros is dreams and what am I? I do not know. Jealousy is breathing down my neck. I simply do not know who I am, but how can I know when I have never seen a human's face. But I could not wait, I cannot wait. And that is why is how this story came to be.

The next morning I put on my long black robe and my pocketwatch. The ticking is strangely hard in the dark tunnels of the After. The tunnels are only a place for us, the entities, the souls are sent to the Wishes as we call them. People say that that resembles earth but we are hardly ever allowed there. And if we are, we are doing something serious. So the pleasure of earth is something unheard of among entities. And still I am following my father as he slowly walks through the tunnels, I need the earth. I just know I will find my answer there, and if I do not. I might experience joy.

I stumble through the tunnels as I follow the gravestone gray hair of my father and there emerges a strange unfamiliar light. He walks into it. I slowly walk into it.

I am blinded for an instant but than the vaccuum of the after releases me. I never knew that there was something as incomplete silence, the rustling of the leaves I have read about, the birds we have been taught about, the green grass tickling my feet. The air fresh as cold water, something I could not imagine air could mimic. I recover the ability to see as I slowly open my eyes, the colours.....the colours, it is as if hope is personafied in the pink blossom on the tree. The sweet smell is the only way to describe it, the sweet smell of warm cherries in the summer. Summer, what is summer. I turn my head to the producer of the light and warmth and it kindly kindles my face.

I look at my skin, there are so much more details than I have ever seen, there are little specks of darker skin. What are those? I see my father, still not quickening his pace while he walks through the purple field. I chuckle as I feel the purple flowers, trying to identify the flower. I decide that it is lavender. I frolick through it as my nose fills itself with the new ability. The humanity I have felt, the hope. I finally understand why my father needs to be so kind, why would anyone want to leave this? No one should want to leave this, there is so much beauty, so much elegance, so much wonder.

I pass cypresses and we arrive at a church. I look at it, how could a human make something as impressive as this? With their hands? Or their minds? Or their..... I don't know enough! But my father does not walk into the church, he passes the church and the field we are walking over is scarred with gravestones. In loving memory of people who deserved to live in this beautiful place. I feel a tear running down my cheek. My father walks up to a company wearing black suits, there is only one young man wearing a light pink suit. My father shakes his hand, the young man seems strangely happy. He puts his hand on the shoulder of an older lady before nodding and saying something to my dad. They walk away.

I walk up to the company and stand at their side as they lower the coffin into the ground. I feel a tear rolling down my cheek, why am I sad? Why am I.....feeling? I bite my lip in an attempt not to seem weak. The company slowly leaves the grave and starts talking. The older woman is standing there, "Who are you?" She asks me as she looks up at me. I want to ask if she can see me but realise that would only make it more strange. "An old friend." I say as I extend my hand. As she touches it her eyes begin to water. "He really is gone right?" She says as the tears stream down her face. "I am afraid so ma'am." "I have forgotton to grieve." She says as she starts to sob and hugs me, she hugs me so tightly I hear a crack. "Thank you." She says. I nod and grab the pocketwatch from my pocket, there is a crack running along the glass and the clock has stopped.....

The sun is setting as I slowly walk back to The After. I am grief, I am mourning, I am loss. I smile, I am the one people hate and love, the one causing sadness and helping healing. I am the new beginning and the tragic end. The warm wind tugs on my clothes and they start to rip as I keep on walking. A white dove lands on my right shoulder and a black raven perche on my left. My long hair waves in the wind as my robe rips and reveals the ombre white black one decoarated with dark embroidery of lilies, hyacinths, cypresses, chrysanthemums and red poppies. I grab the latern that has appeared in my hand, lightning my white face with it's warm light.

I enjoy knowing who I am. My father expected me to follow him, he knew all of it. I now guide souls back to their families on special occasions, or when they simply miss them. I am frequently on earth to put a simple hand on the mourners shoulder. I lead them back to their life with my light, and sometimes, just sometimes, by accident I lead them astray.