A Kiss for Death - Short Story

“There is never a time or place for true love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.” ― Sarah Dessen

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I don’t know where you go after life. Or really what I mean is I don’t know where you go after your death. Something happens; I’m sure of it. It’s not like when you fall asleep or the first time you wake in the afterlife. There isn’t another world you go to where you create your own images. You’re dead. You no longer have the option of creation, just observation. There isn’t a single thing I wouldn’t give to have that. I don’t have that option anymore. For the mass of souls that die, there are very few who are chosen from my job, my task, my curse.

We’ve been called many things from angels to grim reapers. The general term is psychopomp but who wants to be associated with a word that can be shortened to psycho? It’s not my sort of thing. I’ve always considered us to be nameless. I’d rather it that way. When you aren’t labeled, you don’t have to be a force for good or bad. We can just be. We are the souls who guide you through the transition: that stretch of brick road or a sidewalk you take. Each person has a different way for their mind to deal with death.

My death was a path in a jungle-like world of my own. I awoke on the ground though nothing felt quite solid. It was like a dream though I knew it would be one I’d never wake up from. Before me was a trail created by the many animals that trampled it. Over a fallen branch, over the thousands of plants I dreamed up. The bark of the trees were smooth, the cries of the birds were exotic. Everything seemed imaginary. Leaves were baby blues and the sky was a soft yellow. The air felt crisp yet hot like magic and the ambiance felt as though I had fallen into the very haven that embodies a work of art. I had drifted into the world that came to life to make my death.

The next turn in that jungle, I came upon a crystalline lake dancing from the pure light in the sky. The water was lavender and butterflies danced over the shining water. I took a step forward, away from my path. As soon as I did, I knew it was something I shouldn’t do. The trail felt safe, warm. Even in life I was never one for safety. Better to ask permission than forgiveness. It was my motto. It was also the reason for my early grave.

The crystal water called me forward in a dangerous lullaby. I accepted its invitation. There was a boat to my left that hadn’t been there before. Its sides were carved like a leaf and painted with harsh but beautiful strokes from a wiry brush. Something had altered what I was seeing. I looked back to the lake with surprise. It was no longer clear, pastel purple but aquamarine like the seas I remembered from travel brochures. I thought nothing of it. After all, I was dead. I felt twisting realities were normal.

I climbed uneasily into the boat, taking my time to push off from the shore. In my heart, I knew I was going toward something greater, something important. It wasn’t the safe path, it wasn’t the best path but it wasn’t wrong either. It was simply something different, something new. I was excited to find out what.

“You’re not like the others,” a voice called beside me. My eyes flit toward it to behold a magnificent sight.

Standing atop the waters, I found a man in a simple white robe. Great obsidian wings spread out behind him like a raven, cloaking me in shade from my glorious yellowed sky. I gasped. Never had I seen anything quite as beautiful as him. He was strong with a square jaw and dusty blue eyes colored like storm clouds. He was the epitome of glory and as handsome as he was daunting. I bowed my head, unable to find my voice.

“Don’t be frightened,” the winged man told me. “I am here with an offer.”

“An offer in death could mean I won’t find peace,” I told him. I’m not sure where my opinion had come from but it seemed as true nonetheless. “You offer me something yet you don’t know me. That’s suspicious, don’t you think?”

“Smart girl,” he complimented. “But you also don’t know what I have to say. Maybe it’s something wonderful. Maybe it’s worse. You haven’t a clue and you still reject my offer?”

What he was saying made sense but I still had this underlying hesitation for him. Knowing I’ve already died, there was little chance of anything worse happening. I stood in my little boat, wobbling for balance. “What are you?”

“What do you think I am?”

I peered at his raven wings. “An Angel?”

The man cocked his head to the side and stepped forward on the water. His curled finger reached toward my cheek and caressed my freckled skin. I shivered at his touch. He was both warm and soft but his gaze was hard and cold. His lips spoke the truth yet we were in a world made of lies. I knew him for only these brief moments and I felt he had known me forever. He was a contradiction personified and I couldn’t get enough of him.

“I am whatever you want me to be, Eliza.” I flinched at the sound of my name. It felt foreign because I was no longer that person. I was only a soul, a soul that needed and deserved nothing. “What do you want me to be?”

“Real,” I sighed honestly.

His mouth hung open for a moment as if I was the only one who had ever given him that answer. I trembled from the oncoming tears. It was all to end. I was about to find peace and never be thought of again. I didn’t want that. What I wanted most was to remain of that world of wonder. The things I could create, the lives I could understand. I wanted to observe and be, not to drift away into a memory unworthy to make history. I was a nameless child, a soul and nothing else. But I wanted more. I wanted him.

“Then this is my offer,” he said. “You may have this, all of this. Anything your mind desires, you can create within the moment it takes you to blink. You can make mountains out of stardust and turn the sand from the shore into gold. But before you are handed this, you must do one thing for me.”

I nodded, willing to do anything for the chance at living in my dream world. But it was not the godly power I was doing it for. The sacrifice I was to perform was for that man I had just met. That dangerous, beautiful man made me want to do anything and to be anything. No one would ever compare to him for he was everything my heart had ever desired.

He sighed and held out his hand. I accepted it and as he pulled me toward him onto the water, I fell into his arms. He gazed into my topaz eyes and I gazed into his. I wrapped my arms around his torso and felt the folds of the fabric from the wings sprouting behind him.

“Anything,” I told him. “What do I need to do?”

His leaned toward me with his soft lips inches from mine. My breath felt uneven but nothing felt as right as that moment had. Nothing ever will. The man was my angel of death and the love of my life.

“Kiss me.”

That was how I became an angel, a reaper, a psychopomp. The bargain was struck and settled by our lips pressing together in an innocent and personal seal. I had kissed the man I had never known and absorbed his powers. His way of life in exchange for the peace that was meant to be mine.

He never told me that in order to move on, I would need to steal another’s Light. He never told me I would have to guide other souls to their peace, never having rest myself. He never even told me his name. I was left on my own, the weight of his abilities pulling me under the water and the pain from developing wings of my own. My angel had disappeared and left a hole in both my heart and the dream world I had created.

But love worked in mysterious ways. I knew in the depth of my consciousness that my love-life, or lack thereof, wasn’t over. I would find that same indescribable feeling. There was one thing in death I was certain of that I never believed in when I was living: true love was real. And one day, I would find it for myself.

~ END ~

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Or maybe not the end... This was supposed to be the start of a personal writing exercise but I kind of really like it. What do you think? Shall I create a story out of this or let it be? Comment and tell me <3 Thanks for reading!!