Waiting for Death

Written for Carry On Tuesday’s prompt: In my younger and more vulnerable years  .  .  .

In my younger and more vulnerable years I used to dream I would escape this place.  I would sit on my cot and stare and the ceiling and dream of the adventures I would have outside these walls.  I would dream of being discovered and rescued and released.  I used to keep track of the hours, the days, the years.  That was before they moved me to a room without a window.  Now time no longer exists and I only dream of my only hope for escape.  Death.

The first time I saw him was the first night they brought me to this room. I stared at him as my mind came out of the land of dreams into the land of the reality.  

Expecting him to fade away, I sat up and bed and blinked three times.  When I was awake enough to see him clearly, the sight of him sent a chill down my spine .  Once I was able to focus I recognized him immediately.  He wasn’t what I imagined him to be, nothing like the scythe carrying robed skeleton that I’d seen in great works of art.  But it was he nonetheless.

He stepped out of the shadow, for there was a light coming in from the door, and spoke in the peculiar way that he had.  “Hello, Catherine.”  I stared at him in disbelief.  My eyes stared at his black boots, black denim trousers, and black cotton t-shirt.  His eyes and hair were a shade darker than coal.

“Death?”  My voice faltered.

“Please, I prefer to be called Azriel.”

“Death – Azriel, I almost didn’t recognize you without your robe and scythe.”  I wasn’t trying to be funny but he laughed all the same.

“Death comes in many forms.” 

“Am I dead then?”

“No, Cathy, you are not.”

“What?  No, I’m not alive or no I’m not dead?”

“Ah, these things take time.  Be patient.  I just had to have a look at you to see if you were worth it. ”

“Worth what?”

“Worth his life.  Not that it matters.  The contract has been signed.”

“What contract?”

“You are a very lucky lady, not many would be willing to trade their life for another.”

“William Short?”  I knew without asking and he knew I knew.  His ebony eyes danced but otherwise his face remained expressionless. 

I felt something crawling on my leg.  I looked down but there was nothing there.  When I looked up again, Azriel was gone. 

Now I spend my days waiting for Death and wondering what is taking him so long.

Comments and critique welcome.  : )

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9 responses to “Waiting for Death

  1. Death will always take his time cos the guy is always very busy……..

  2. “I carry death in my left pocket. Sometimes I take it out and talk to it: “Hello, baby, how you doing? When you coming for me? I’ll be ready.”

    – Charles Bukowski

  3. Well-written.. Reminded me of a movie I fell in love with – Ghost Rider.. Not sure if you’ve watched it.. I write some stories, not great ones but of which that happened in my life and expanding it from there..
    Hope to see you around in my blog; not just in my poetry writing blog..
    Bookmarked your page cos I can’t find the follow button.. and yes, thanks for dropping by; sharing your thoughts…I was surprised by how you could relate to my poetry writing, yes, I wrote that to express how I or one need to grow from child..
    Anyway, If you are free, do drop by and share your thoughts on my stories too at tingtasy.com for either fiction or non-fiction story.. 🙂
    See you!! *HUG*

    • I know of that movie, but have never seen it. I don’t think WordPress allows the Google follow button. Thanks for the bookmark and for the visit! 😉

  4. yes, very good. If you fleshed this out (no pun intended), you’d have a short story.

  5. Hi, thanks for stopping by my blog. It’s nice to read a completely different take on the Carry on Tuesday prompt.

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