Death's Replacement

Detroit 1834 - Becoming Dust

" Dust to dust, well maybe for everyone but me. I never turned to dust" -Azrael

I never expected my summer would end with me leaving my family behind, but this way I won't have to see them die. Not for a long time. If I left tonight, they would be spared from the sickness and might have a chance to survive. The carriage in front of me had been stopped for some time, yet the dust still lingered in the air. Only a small bit of moonlight streamed through the cloudy sky, sending an erie pool of light in every direction. The clouds parted revealing the sleek ebony stained wood and the velvet curtains covering the windows. Many carriages wouldn't have such an elaborate fabric, especially not in this weather. The evening summer heat made me wish I was headed aboard a steamer, and not a stuffy carriage. The horses Stamped their feet on the ground, sending another plume of dust into the air.

Needing to clean my hands of sweat and dust, I gently wiped them on the sides of my purple skirt. Its quality was like nothing I had ever experienced. The package had arrived only the day before. Mother hid it behind her and fathers bed before pulling it out tonight. We sat there staring at it for some time before mother hurried me into it. We held back the tears, knowing that soon this carriage would come and take me away. I quickly removed my hands from the elaborate fabric and held them in front of me again, winding my small fingers together in a knot.

The door slowly opened with a horrible creaking sound, I feared would wake my family. No light shone in the window, and the curtains were clearly still closed. It was better this way, to leave in the night. No one but mother would know where I had gone, and she would never tell a soul.

A withered hand grabbed the opening and his looming frame leaned out of the carriage. He was tall and thin, his skin almost translucent in the moonlight. The elderly man lifted his chin so I could see into his eyes. The whites had turned a pale yellow and his iris was a deep brown almost black. They sent an icy shiver through my spine. For a moment I thought I might panic and run to mother. Doing so would mean she would die, brother would die, father would die. This way was better. This way they would live.

"Come child" His voice cracked through, showing his age. Grumbling, he waved his hand towards the carriage. I quickly grabbed my satchel off the dusty ground and made my way to the door.

With an impatient "Leave it" he turned back into the blackness of the carriage. I followed, without anything but my purple dress. I straightened my skirts underneath me and took a seat across from him. He sat with his back rigid, his eyes boring into me. Reaching his withered hand up he rapped the wall behind him. The carriage lurched forward. I gripped the edge of my seat, to prevent myself from falling into his lap. He sat unmoved by the jolt, and continued his stare. With his hair pulled back, and in this light he appeared to be a native, but none of them ride in carriages as fine as this. His chiseled nose, and protruding cheeks did nothing to soften the stare, nor did the sleek ebony walking stick leaning on the bench. It's only adornment was an intricately carved eagle, tucking its wings behind itself and staring into the night. The man tilted his head back and closed his eyes. Unsure of what to do, I introduced myself.

"I am Greta K.."He raised his hand, the air from my lungs seem to disappear and instantly I was silenced.

"No." Slowly opening his eyes, He spoke in a low and even tone that boomed inside the carriage. "You are Azrael." His hand lowered.

The carriage lurched again, this time to the side. We turned down a another street, heading towards the river. The bumps and holes in the road caused me to slosh around in my seat. Not wanting to offend the man, but not wanting to get off to things with the wrong foot, I tried again.

"I'm sorry, possibly you were mistaken, My name is Greta."

This time he leaned forward and took both of my hands in his. His touch was cool, silken and firm, his voice softer, "No, my dear, you must leave that girl behind, as I left a young man behind so many years ago." He dropped my hands and leaned back against the carriage with a sigh. A crack in his stern exterior exposed a broken and tired old man. How old I did not know, but I saw for a moment his memory of being a boy.

"Your name is Azrael, soon you will become one of many." He sat straight again and dusted his coat, grunting. "For now, be silent, as we will discuss much in the morning."

The carriage came to a halt just as the bells from a nearby church began to ring. The noise startled me, the sound had become more and more frequent as the days went on, each one was no less jarring than the last. The toll meant a death at the hands of the sickness ravaging the city. This is the sickness that had a hold on my family, the sickness that lead me here. The Man leaned to the door of the carriage and opened it. The clang of the bells drowned out the creaking hinge, and the slamming of the door behind him.

I reached over and opened it, assuming he intended for me to follow. The darkness engulfed everything now, the moon had disappeared behind the clouds completely, and only a few candles shone from the windows of the nearby mill. The old man turned to me, raising his pale finger to a point, waving me back inside the carriage.

His voice was only a whisper over the bells yet it floated to my ears. "I will return shortly." He turned and strolled forward down State street. This part of the road was so thick with mud and wetness that most men wore boots over their pants at all times when in this part of the city. This old man seemed to glide across it with ease. With a shudder, I tucked myself back inside the carriage.

I waited for what should have been a short amount of time, yet he did not return. I thought about venturing out into the street to find him, thinking something terrible may have happened, but decided against it. What could I do to help in any case? I leaned back against the cool wood of the carriage and closed my eyes. I would not open them again until many hours later.