Death

There once was a woman who led a plain life, dull some would say, never to be completely content. You see this woman once was a girl, and as everyone knows, girls have dreams.

But that time had passed and she’d accepted that. Now she lived a quiet life in a small cottage near a small town. She ate breakfast in her sparsely furnished kitchen every morning before heading to work. It was one such morning when a knock came to the door.

She answered the door to be greeted by Death. Gasping, she fell back and cowered on her knees. The woman knew her time had come. Death greeted and raised her up with care. Without a second thought the woman left her home and walked with Death, not even putting on her coat of closing up the windows. In fact the door was left ajar, welcoming in fallen leaves in absence of its previous inhabitant.

Fall. Crunch, crunch, crunch went the leaves under her feet. Death made no sounds. Silence faded over the trees as they walked along a path behind her house. The woman recognized it at first, but after a few minutes her home faded into new scenery. The trees looked fake for the tranquility they breathed could not be real.

“Woman,” Death spoke suddenly. “Are you happy with the way you have lived your life?”

The woman thought for a moment, then answered yes. “Life did not turn out how I expected, or wanted, but looking back now I feel satisfied.”

“Satisfied?” Death questioned. “Satisfied in what way?”

The woman thought for a moment longer, then answered again. “I did not have much but I had enough.”

“It seems to me,” Death reasoned. “You had nothing of what you wanted. You started out young and fresh, but did not end up where you desired to be. You had a house but not a home. You did not live in a big city surrounded by big lights and sounds. You were not even married, nor had any children to pass on your memories too. It seems to me your life, in fact, sums up as such.”

“It is true; I had some grand wishes.” The woman’s eyes glazed over in remembrance. “I was so eager for the future to come in those days.”

“And then all your dreams did not come true. The spark of youth faded and gave way to a different attitude. An attitude dominated by thoughts of trying to make a living rather than living to make. Where did your innocence go?”

“It went away when reality came.” She smiled at Death. “You can’t always live on dreams.”

“Then why do they exist?” Death questioned, truly curious in all his aged wisdom. “You were caught up in a world torn between love and hate, life and death. Dreams are only as obtainable as they are lucrative.”

“Yes, that seems to be true.” The woman tilted her head sadly. “Still, they are nice to have.”

Death thought for a moment. “Perhaps that is the case then.” When the woman looked to him, he explained. “Life itself is born out of hopes; hopes for another. An endless cycle, yes? How disappointing it would be then for life itself to die out? In order to live, life feeds off of what gave birth to it.”

“That seems like a very fine explanation.” The woman commented.

“But you brought forth no life in this world, instead letting the chain die out.”

The woman scoffed. “What does the world lack that I could have brought into it? I am but one person.”

“True. But hopes and dreams have to start somewhere.”

The woman smiled. “I suppose so.”

They reached the end of the path. Their walk together had ended. Bidding Death a warm goodbye the woman stepped through the gates and disappeared as did Death, already onto his next destination.

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