Disappear: Into Shadow

- PROLOGUE -

To the one that watches, everything is revealed.

- Italian Proverb

It just simply wasn't done. Death never made casual house calls. She appeared only for someone holding a scheduled appointment. And then, mere moments before their end, would she lift a soul from its body and help its way out of the world. That's it. That's all most people ever experienced of her presence.

Sometimes, ending a life made her feel some remorse, even guilt. Other times, snipping the threads of a soul causing pain and torment on the lives of those around it was a joy. Tonight was the exception to every rule she followed. Tonight was not official business. She was a spectator.

Sleeping on the bed was a young man named Michael. To Death, he was the most beautiful being in the world. She watched him often, and every time told herself over and over, This just simply isn't done.

She knew everything about him and his life. For the past two months, he had come to this small mountain town, working a second job on the weekends. Staying at his parent's house, in his old room, she knew he was doing it to save enough money to buy the Christmas presents his girlfriend Billie really wanted and he couldn't otherwise afford.

Not even a glimmer of jealousy was produced by the thought of Michael's girlfriend. The young man was alive and could do what or whom ever he wanted to. She had seen him through so many lives it didn't matter. He didn't know how she watched him at night, waiting for the day when she could come, officially, to take him from this world and back into her arms. Until then, Billie could have him.

What did spark traces of envy was the companionship and sensations of love Michael and Billie were free to experience together on this world. Death couldn't have that. She longed to hold Michael close, the way the living did. The feeling of skin against skin, the heat of their bodies and the hunger of a shared passion was a sensation Death had never experienced. It was something she longed for, was tempted by and knew she could never obtain. It would mean breaking a vow. That, above all else, simply wasn't done.

She shook her head, breaking the brief fantasy. Desires weren't realistic for a being like her. At least I have moments like these to look forward to, Death reminded herself.

It was a cold comfort.

Sitting on the edge of Michael's bed, Death brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. Gleaming with health, an irony not lost on Death, her beautiful, angelic face radiated life, if not some light. Flowing raven black hair caressed her shoulders and a subtle luminescent energy danced about her body, its silver hue accented by the shimmering outline of a much darker light.

Watching the gentle rhythms of his breathing, a wave of her hand had sent the sheets sliding off Michael's shoulders and chest. Her pale blue eyes travelled along the length of his body.

So beautiful, she thought, yet so fragile.

She reached out, her hand hovering over Michael's bare chest as it rose and fell with each breath. Her fingers, inches from his skin, trembled. She drew her hand away, her thoughts screaming, Stop! Why am I torturing myself?

The answer was ever elusive. Since she met Michael so many lives before this one, she had sought it without success. On the many nights previous she told herself to walk away, not to see him again until his dying day. It was a promise she could never fulfill. She always found herself back near his bedside. It would be easy to end his life here and now. All she had to do was draw his soul out of the body and they would be together again. She wanted that, though she never paid too much attention to her temptation. It was bad enough watching him as much as she did, but she could not and would not interfere in his life. That too was strictly off limits. He was on this world to experience life and she would not be doing him a favour by ending it. He had his own path to follow and she had hers.