Objects In The Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear, chapter 8
I had walked nearly a mile (and felt like I could barely go on) when a voice said to me, "Hey, Robert Jones."
I started to turn around when the voice said, "It wouldn't be wise to look Death in the face. Would you not want to hold onto your sanity? If not, go ahead, stare at me all you want." Those words made me turn back around.
The Reaper, or Death if you prefer, had snuck up on me, and I hadn't even noticed. I thought that I was too shocked (and scared) to do anything, but I had fooled myself. "What do you want?" I asked it after what seemed like a lifetime of silence passed.
"Isn't it obvious?" Death asked back. I realized that Death's voice was that of a womans: Not what I would've expected. Death's voice sounded sensual and provocative, as if she was trying to turn me on. "Really, please answer, I would like to hear what you think I am here for."
"To kill me," I responded. "Right?"
"No." My heart seemed to leap in my chest. "I'm here to escort you to the hospital." My heart seemed to stop in my chest.
"What?" I asked, dumbfounded. "To escort me?"
"Now you get it."
"Why?" All of a sudden, my side started to hurt.
"I have my reasons."
I didn't know what to say, so I yelled the first five words that came to mind: "Go away. Leave me alone!"
"It is up to me to make that you live through the night!"
"WHY?!?" I demanded. My throat hurt.
"I have my reasons."
And Death and I actually talked to one another. Apparently, she's tired of being Death, but she can't stop killing people, even if it isn't their time to go. "It gives me a perverse sort of pleasure, almost," she said.
She refused to tell me what happens if we die (or if anything happens, at that), but did tell me that there are many other Deaths in the world. Funny, kind of: The Deaths meet each other every other Tuesday, and talk about how their weeks were.
"Are any of the Deaths that are around now the 'original Death'?" I asked her, waiting for Death to say yes.
"No," She finally said. "We Deaths only live for about three thousand years, then we dwindle away into nothing. We choose a person before we pass away, and that person becomse their . . . their . . . 'replacement Death', you could say," Death said.
"Can you answer one last question?' I asked, seeing the hospital in the distance.
"What is it, Mister Jones?" Death asked, as if we were best of friends. But, in a way, we were: She hadn't killed me. Instead, she had saved me. Sure, she killed my wife (metaphorically speaking), but Arlene had tried to kill me.
"What do you really look like?" I finally asked.
"How humans envision Death is completely different from what we really look like. We wear hoods not to cover skulls, but to cover our faces. You see, Deaths are devine beings, and they are the most magnificent looking creature in the world. How can I put it? Have you ever heard the phrase, 'drop-dead gorgeous'?"
"Yes."
"That's what we truly look like. In fact, if you layed eyes upon me, you would surely die of my beauty."
"You're that beautiful?" I asked Death.
"Yes. Only Deaths can look at other Deaths. In fact, you wouldn't make a bad Death yourself."
"You think so?" I asked, wondering how I should feel about what Death just said to me.
"Why, yes. For a business executive, you are quite handsome." I knew I was handsome, but having Death call me handsome somehow made me feel better. And was that strange? Yes, it was, in a way. It was also very frightening. I mean, it's not every day Death tells you that you're handsome.
"Thanks." I said.
"We have to stop."
It was then that I realized that we had come to the hospital. I looked at the seven-story buidling and sighed. Strangely enough, I wanted to hear more from Death. I longed for the body that owned the strangely seductive voice that I had been listening to for what seemed like the past half hour. "Will we meet again?" I asked Death, knowing she would say no.
"Yes," Death responded. My heart skipped a beat, knowing I wouldn't see Death again until I died. But I had to catch a glimpse of Death's body. Even a glimpse would do!
So I quickly turned around so I was facing the opposite direction.
But Death was gone.
"We'll meet again," I heard a voice say on the wind, and I smiled briefly.
My wife was dead, I would probably get my appendix removed, and my carreer would most likely go down the toilet, but, did I care?
Nope.
I was in love with Death.
I turned back around and entered the hospital, looking forward to the future.
I started to turn around when the voice said, "It wouldn't be wise to look Death in the face. Would you not want to hold onto your sanity? If not, go ahead, stare at me all you want." Those words made me turn back around.
The Reaper, or Death if you prefer, had snuck up on me, and I hadn't even noticed. I thought that I was too shocked (and scared) to do anything, but I had fooled myself. "What do you want?" I asked it after what seemed like a lifetime of silence passed.
"Isn't it obvious?" Death asked back. I realized that Death's voice was that of a womans: Not what I would've expected. Death's voice sounded sensual and provocative, as if she was trying to turn me on. "Really, please answer, I would like to hear what you think I am here for."
"To kill me," I responded. "Right?"
"No." My heart seemed to leap in my chest. "I'm here to escort you to the hospital." My heart seemed to stop in my chest.
"What?" I asked, dumbfounded. "To escort me?"
"Now you get it."
"Why?" All of a sudden, my side started to hurt.
"I have my reasons."
I didn't know what to say, so I yelled the first five words that came to mind: "Go away. Leave me alone!"
"It is up to me to make that you live through the night!"
"WHY?!?" I demanded. My throat hurt.
"I have my reasons."
And Death and I actually talked to one another. Apparently, she's tired of being Death, but she can't stop killing people, even if it isn't their time to go. "It gives me a perverse sort of pleasure, almost," she said.
She refused to tell me what happens if we die (or if anything happens, at that), but did tell me that there are many other Deaths in the world. Funny, kind of: The Deaths meet each other every other Tuesday, and talk about how their weeks were.
"Are any of the Deaths that are around now the 'original Death'?" I asked her, waiting for Death to say yes.
"No," She finally said. "We Deaths only live for about three thousand years, then we dwindle away into nothing. We choose a person before we pass away, and that person becomse their . . . their . . . 'replacement Death', you could say," Death said.
"Can you answer one last question?' I asked, seeing the hospital in the distance.
"What is it, Mister Jones?" Death asked, as if we were best of friends. But, in a way, we were: She hadn't killed me. Instead, she had saved me. Sure, she killed my wife (metaphorically speaking), but Arlene had tried to kill me.
"What do you really look like?" I finally asked.
"How humans envision Death is completely different from what we really look like. We wear hoods not to cover skulls, but to cover our faces. You see, Deaths are devine beings, and they are the most magnificent looking creature in the world. How can I put it? Have you ever heard the phrase, 'drop-dead gorgeous'?"
"Yes."
"That's what we truly look like. In fact, if you layed eyes upon me, you would surely die of my beauty."
"You're that beautiful?" I asked Death.
"Yes. Only Deaths can look at other Deaths. In fact, you wouldn't make a bad Death yourself."
"You think so?" I asked, wondering how I should feel about what Death just said to me.
"Why, yes. For a business executive, you are quite handsome." I knew I was handsome, but having Death call me handsome somehow made me feel better. And was that strange? Yes, it was, in a way. It was also very frightening. I mean, it's not every day Death tells you that you're handsome.
"Thanks." I said.
"We have to stop."
It was then that I realized that we had come to the hospital. I looked at the seven-story buidling and sighed. Strangely enough, I wanted to hear more from Death. I longed for the body that owned the strangely seductive voice that I had been listening to for what seemed like the past half hour. "Will we meet again?" I asked Death, knowing she would say no.
"Yes," Death responded. My heart skipped a beat, knowing I wouldn't see Death again until I died. But I had to catch a glimpse of Death's body. Even a glimpse would do!
So I quickly turned around so I was facing the opposite direction.
But Death was gone.
"We'll meet again," I heard a voice say on the wind, and I smiled briefly.
My wife was dead, I would probably get my appendix removed, and my carreer would most likely go down the toilet, but, did I care?
Nope.
I was in love with Death.
I turned back around and entered the hospital, looking forward to the future.
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