Death knocks at my door.

Here comes death, knocking at my door
He enters the room in his dark robes carrying his scythe
I glance up at him, to weak to sit up
He smiles wickedly at me, sending shivers up my spine
'It's about time... Where have you been?' I ask in my firmest voice
'Sorry' He replies 'I had other matters to attend to'
I look at his handsome face
Time, I see has been kind to him
'It's time to go' He whispers softly
He takes his scythe and grips it tightly with both hands
'Are you ready?' He asks me
'It's not like I have a choice' I reply coldly
I shut my eyes tightly going over the past 24years of my life
It really is true, what they say...about your life flashing past your eyes as you breathe in your last breath
I feel the scythe cut through me...it doesn't hurt...I just feel extremely cold all over
'It is done' He says grimly
He lends me a hand, helping me off the bed
'Whatever you do...do not look back' he growls
I can't resist the temptation to look back and end up turning around