The Nightly Visitor

Prologue

Every night, as the world slipped into the quiet embrace of darkness, I emerged from the shadows, a figure cloaked in black, unseen yet ever-present. My footsteps echoed in the sterile corridors of the hospital, where the air was thick with the scent of antiseptics and the hushed murmurs of despair. The living never saw me, but they felt my presence—the shiver that ran down their spines, the sudden chill in the room, the inexplicable sense of finality.

I was Death, the eternal guide, the silent ferryman who came to collect the souls destined for the underworld. This hospital was my domain, a place where life and death danced their eternal waltz, where the boundary between the two blurred like the edges of a fading dream. Each night, I walked these halls, visiting rooms where the flicker of life grew dim and where the fragile thread that tied a soul to its body was on the verge of snapping.

Tonight, I entered the room of an old man, his body frail and worn, ravaged by time and illness. His breathing was shallow—a mere whisper of existence—and his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling as if already seeing beyond the veil. I stood at his bedside, waiting. I always waited—death was never rushed or hurried. It was both patient and inevitable.

As his final breath escaped his lips, I reached out, gently lifting his soul from its mortal shell. He looked at me, his gaze filled with a strange mix of fear and acceptance. I saw his life unfold before me, each moment a thread in the tapestry of his existence. He had lived a simple life, marked by small joys and quiet sorrows. He had loved deeply, though not always wisely. He had made mistakes, some of which he regretted and others he had come to terms with.

"For your love," I said, my voice a whisper that echoed in the stillness, "you shall be praised. For the kindness you showed to those who needed it most, your journey will be lightened."

He nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek. "And for my sins?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"For your sins," I replied, "there will be consequences. But they are not for eternity. You will face them, learn from them, and find peace in the end."

I watched as his soul began its descent, a journey through the realms of the underworld where his deeds would be weighed and judged. I did not follow—my task was not to judge but to guide. I turned away, leaving the room behind, already sensing the next soul that needed my attention.

In another room, a young woman lay still, her body cold and lifeless, taken by a sudden illness that had struck without warning. She had been full of life, vibrant, and hopeful, with dreams yet to be realized. Her soul hovered above her body, confused and frightened by the abruptness of her end.

"Why?" she asked me, her voice trembling with the weight of her unspoken fears. "Why now? I had so much left to do."

I kneeled beside her, my presence calm amidst her turmoil. "Your time came, as it does for all," I said gently. "But your deeds in life will guide you. The love you gave, the lives you touched—these will be your light in the darkness."

She looked at me, her fear slowly giving way to a resigned acceptance. "Will I see them again? The ones I love?"

"In time," I replied. "All souls meet again, in one way or another. Love is the thread that binds the universe, unbroken even by death."

With that, I guided her soul down the path to the underworld, her light flickering like a distant star in the endless night.

Every night, the cycle repeated. I walked these halls, collecting the souls that lingered on the edge, each with a unique story—a life lived and now ended. Some were greeted with praise, their deeds shining like beacons in the darkness. Others faced their punishment, the weight of their sins dragging them down, but always with the hope of redemption.

I was death, the inevitable end, but also the beginning of something new. I was neither cruel nor kind, simply a necessity in the grand design. The hospital was my realm, a place where life and death coexisted, where I walked silently through the night, unseen but ever-present, guiding souls on their final journey.