Death's Arrow

One

She was wispy and intangible, she was merely a soul at the moment, but that wasn’t what she needed to wrap her mind around.

The rules were clear, but the idea was confusing. How could a bow and arrow kill whoever is destined to kill her? She wasn’t mortal yet, she had no physical body, yet in her hands she held a simplistic bow, a soft curve of dark redwood, string that was tight to the touch.

She drew back, turning in a small circle, almost as if she and the bow and arrow were a compass trying to find the north.

Finally, she came to a stop, releasing a breath at the same time as her fingers let loose the arrow.

As her vision tunneled, she heard one last phrase said to her, “May life be gracious to you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A small toddler ran through tall grass

A 12 year old broke a plate

A teenager danced at her homecoming

Now 19, she  started college

27, she learns that she can’t have kids

Two years later she and her fiancee adopt

A small family, two moms, and a beautiful girl go out for dinner

The daughter is growing up, she’s six now

Soon she’s a teen herself, crying over heartache

Then she goes off for university

The two moms have a quiet home now

Years fly by, and before she knows it, the old woman lay in a bed

She is dying today.
He came in shadows, only visible to her eyes.

He calls her name, “Its time,” He says

The old woman recognises the voice

It is the same as when she was a mere soul

“The arrow never came,”

He smiles, Death doesn’t look how everyone describes him

He is dressed in a dark navy blue suit, his hair is a dirty blonde like wheat fields on a sunny day, and it is longer than most men keep their hair, his eyes are crystal blue, he is lean and lanky, but broad and impressive.

He isn't how everyone thinks him to be, he isn't dressed in black silk with dark eyes, Death does not radiate cold and he doesn't strike fear just by his looks.

But his smile is warm, he is comforting

“Do not worry, It is my time too.”

His hand is held out to her, and she lifts her own hand to meet his.

As they touch, Death sighs softly, and begins to fall forwards, just to the woman’s side

He is dead.

An arrow has stuck him down.

But his body does not stay, instead it dissipates into smoke

The smoke starts to take a shape

To her right, now lays a long scythe

Inscripted on its handle, it says briefly, “Life was gracious”