Death is Beautiful

So here I lie, on my deathbed. None of the medicines seems to be working for whatever illness it is that I have. I can feel my body grow weaker by the hour, and soon, I’ll be gone. I fear alot of things, but I fear Death, most of all. 

To my disadvantage, I was deaf, but it wasn’t due to the illness though. So I just lie here, watching the people on television scramble about.

 That’s when he came in.

 A young man whose skin looked as if the sun had never touched it. His features were soft, his hair, dark as soot, and his eyes....my god, they were so red. Not a bright red though, but a deep, dark maroon.

And how beautiful they were.

 I had a gut feeling on who this man was, and he knows how terrified of him I am. He sat in a chair, and looked at his watch, as if he were waiting, which indeed he was.

 It was a quarter to twelve: his arrival time.

 I was so nervous, my hands were shaking in my lap. I glanced up at him, and we made eye contact. The air became tense and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

 Then, he smiled.

 It wasn’t a devious, threatening smile, but somewhat warm, and comforting. Something I was not expecting from a man like him.

But, oh, what a beautiful smile it was.

It was like he was telling me not to be afraid, nor fear his presence, or be wary. He told me all this with just his gentle demeanor.

It was now five minutes to twelve.

The man slowly got up and walked over to my bedside. He gestured with his pale hand, encouraging me to take it. I lifted my hand up, hesitant to take his. This could be it. This may be my end. No more pain, no more suffering.

I took his hand just as the clock stroke twelve.

Gently, he pulled me up from the bed. Where usually I would feel pain, I now felt nothing. I no longer felt ill or weak, as if it had all disappeared. 

Glimpsing behind me, I saw myself, or what use to be me, lying in the hospital bed as if sleeping peacefully. Unfortunately now that body was just a hollow, empty shell. Standing free was my bare soul.

I began to hear a faint ringing in my ears, and then a voice; I heard a voice! It was coming from him. His voice was as soft as fine-grained sand, and yet as bold as a sturdy rock. 

But, oh, what a beautiful sound it was!

He asked if I was ready, and with a nod we began to walk. To where, I’ll know soon enough, but I was no longer afraid.

I used to fear Death, thinking how dreadful it was, or must be.

But sometimes, Death can be Beautiful.