THE VISIT

TWO

Chapter 2- WE GET DOWN TO BUSINESS, AND I HAVE A HARD TIME KEEPING MY FISTS TO MYSELF

I keep the emotions at bay, and I have been getting good at it over the months. 'I have nothing to talk about. You have taken everyone away.'

'I am sorry, miss Burton, there's an error you have made. I can't simply take anyone at my own will. I guide spirits from one world to another, when it is time.'

'Then you are useless to me.' I say scornfully.

'For now, perhaps.' Death agrees sportingly.

'You don't understand. I have to see them again.' I grit my teeth.

'So does everyone else.' It says in a matter-of-fact tone.

'And you just pop in for tea randomly to every other person and give them a talk?' I snap, fighting to regain my composure. Its cheeky presence makes it hard.

'I do, but they can't see me, can they?'

I fight some more, and think of words to say. 'Why do you do it?'

'I know it can get lonely.'

'You're not making it better, if I am to be honest with you. You're not making it better in any way.'

'At least I am trying to. We are business partners, after all.'

I purse my lips. 'Get out.'

'How polite.' It retorts.

'Why can't I see them? I see everyone else!' I growl. 'Have you been hiding them?'

'I don't hold that kind of power, miss Burton.'

This was utterly useless, something I had not being expecting at all. Silence consumes the two of us for the next few minutes.

I swallow. 'So you suggest I take the trip?'

'Which one?'

'To the roof?'

'It would not bear fruitful results. Your time hasn't come. You'll probably end up with a broken limb or two.'

I sigh. 'You simply don't understand. I must see them.'

'Of course I understand. I have felt the same too, once upon a time, you know?'

'It isn't very obvious, that,' I scoff, then lean forward slightly. 'What do you mean?'

'I used to be human too, just so you know.'

'The devil-' I choke, 'Used to be human? Now, I don't really read the holy books, but-'

'I am not the Devil, Emma, I am Death.' He- it?- says gravely.

'Huh.' I shake my head in a slight daze.

'Clearly, not many know about me, unfortunately. Now, the scythe and hood part they got right. You've read about me, but you have not known it was me. Who do you think got that fair princess out the tower?'

'Are you speaking of fairytales?' I ask with ridicule. 'You got her down?'

'She jumped.'

I cringe. 'That's an awful twist.'

'Every tale has one.'

'You say odd words.' I claim.

'So do you, did you know that? I must say, I had never imagined speaking to mortals this way. It has proved to be interesting.'

'But I have barely spoken,' I say, and clear my throat. 'Not that I care a bit for your judgement.'

There is a raspy bout of laughter from the other end.

'Even I never imagined a tete-a-tete with Death itself.' I agree in a softer, civil voice.

'You have been baiting me with your thoughts, Emma Burton, I have a feeling you imagined and expected it well enough.'

'Will you take me or not? When will my time come?' I demand, impatience rising again.

'I am forbidden to tell.'

Frustration rises like bile up my throat.

'They are gone, Emma.' Death clutches the fragile tea cup in its gnarled hands. 'You sense spirits, you know they are shards of memories, grasping for more, only to get cut. You know that. There are reasons you don't see the people you used to know. Let them remain in your memory, rather than in withering wisps.'

'I have known.' I say. 'But I have hoped.'

'There are other things to hope for. I say things, not people. People can become like puppets sometimes, Emma, but perhaps they are built to be that way.'

'Your bleak worldview astounds me.' I deadpan.

'I have been around for more time than you.' It nods. 'But time is an illusion.'

'You are calling eternity an illusion.' I roll my eyes.

'You are catching up.' It sets the cup down on the table, barely making a sound. 'I hope to meet you again, Emma Burton. For more chats, and perhaps, regarding our business.'

It stands, and I do too; feeling- odd. Ridiculous. Empty? No, not empty. Never empty.

I walk it to the door, and it offers me its hand against the backdrop of the violent trees and a swirling, starless sky. I shake it. It is cold, but not as cold as I had expected. And without another word, it seeps back into the shadows.

I find a small business card on the table, beside the empty cup. It is a neat rectangle of white, with the word DEATH in bold and black. 'Think of me, ' it says, quite ridiculously. Then, it vaporises right in my hands.

I go to the broom cupboard. As promised, there was scrubbing to do. I was expecting loneliness anytime now, and I'd hate to give it a drab welcome.

It was ironic, indeed, to poison the soulless.

A/N- Trivia- I wrote this after downing a large amount of painkillers, thanks to a dumb wisdom tooth that doesn't know where it belongs. I am not sure what I feel about this, but if you do, please comment and hit that star button. No, I do not take criticism, constructive or otherwise. - Moonism.