a collection of short stories

a talk with death (sorta a true story)

"Because I could not stop for Death –He kindly stopped for me – "

She looked like a sheet of skin carelessly draped over an old skeleton. She was so close to death, she had become the very idea of what we all imagine death to look like. It was hard to look at her, because I knew that at this point--there was no getting her back. The Fates held her string taut, and their scissors were closing in, reading to cut her life-thread in two.

Her breath was heavy, but she couldn't seem to get enough air. It was as if her soul was trying to escape her skeleton-like body, but it couldn't squeeze itself out. Some people have fat souls, because they lived a full and hearty life. Other people, like me, have souls so thin that it won't take much when Death comes to coax it out.

Death falls in love with some people, it'll stay with them all their life. Eventually, Death will be able to carry its lover off into the afterlife, but for a good portion of its beloved's existence, Death will always find a way to come close. Death will take lovers and brothers and sisters and parents and friends--just to be near the poor human. I've always felt like Death has been in love with me, because Death has always taken people from me, and played a massive role in my life. I'm a little in love with Death as well, I suppose, because I love to dance with it. To entertain the idea of me going to Death before Death comes for me.

I hadn't ever spoken to Death before this. I was always desperate, but something about losing her made this all more desperate. She was the last drop of blood I had to hold onto in this world, and without her I'd be entirely alone. I didn't know if I could handle losing her, too--after losing so much.

I didn't notice Death creep in behind me. Death moves so quietly, you know. It's not always loud, like a bomb going off or people screaming. Most of the time, Death is completely silent, and you don't even notice when it comes into a room to harvest. But for some reason, Death felt like talking that day. I felt the cool hand on my warm skin, and I shivered. I watched the ghostly figure move over the body of my mother, and my throat went dry. This was my chance to save her.

"Wait!" I said, jumping up and grabbing the bottom of Death's jeans. That's right--Death doesn't walk around in a robe made of souls anymore. Death evolves with the culture and the time period, so people won't notice it as much. "Please, don't!"

"What are you talking about, 'don't'?" Death's voice crept in and seemed to swirl around the room, like an otherworldly trail. It wasn't a voice, not really. I didn't hear the voice, but I felt it. I just knew what Death had to say.

"You can't take her, please. Haven't you taken enough?"

"Who are you to tell me who I can and can't take?"

"I'm no one, but that's my mom. Please, don't take her. I need her."

"You did fine without the others, you don't need her any more than you did them."

"No! Please! Don't do it. She's too young."

"Oh, I don't know about that. You people have such funny ways of measuring things--with time and that sort of thing. I don't use it, it's just weird and doesn't make much sense. In your mortal 'years', she's lived about half the normal life. Considering the weight of her spirit: I'd say her life wasn't all that bad, either. She got her chance at life, and now I've come to take her to the next one. Who are you to stop me?"

"Just take me, instead! For God's sake, I certainly deserve to go as much as she deserves to stay."

"What do you know of God? And what do you know of what you deserve? Do you think you deserve to die because you don't want to live anymore, so you think you have the choice to just walk away?"

"No--that's not what I meant--"

"Or do you think death is some horrible thing, and that you deserve it? Look around you, I'm not the worse thing that could happen to a person. Your mother suffered a lot in her time, and she's suffering now. She's being torn apart by cancer. I'm freeing her of her misery. You want her to stay on this world, this cold world? I don't even like it here. But these days, I'm kept quite busy, aren't I?"

"Then take us both!"

"No, no, no! You're not getting the point. A mortal being shouldn't decide when it's their time to go. That's why I'm here. Besides, you should stay. You have a little bit of time."

"I don't need my time."

"I don't need it either, so don't try and give it to me. I'll be back for you, don't worry. But now I'm here for her, and isn't she just lovely?" Death touches my mother's bald head, and her sunken eyelids flicker. The rest of her soul just rolls out of her, gently like a rush of water. I can see her soul relax into Death's arms, like it's never felt a greater love and gentleness. "I'll take good care of her, I promise."

"Wait!" I called again. Death paused, and waited for me. I walked over and took my mother's soul from him, just to say goodbye. It felt lighter than it looked when it was leaving her body. It was the first time I could appreciate her for all that she was, and all that she had been. My mother was a beautiful person, but she held a bit of darkness, too. I couldn't see it, though, because she had turned away from her darkness and had chosen pure light. There was a divinity about her soul, and I suppose that's because she had surrendered it to something holy. I loved that feeling of certainty that she had, certainty that death was not an end but a beginning. Certainty she would go to a better place--a certainty that no other religion offered. I held my mother in my arms for what seemed like forever, and I whispered something to her that only she and God would ever know.

Then I handed my mother back to Death, who said it wanted to stay with me for a bit, but instead couldn't because of its scheduling.

Then they both slipped out through the rafters, ascending along the stairway of morning light. I stared at her corpse until the nurses came in to take her away, and I swore Death had stolen another piece of me to keep.