Death

I am Death.

I’ve adopted many names over the years. Thanatos, Anubis, Shinigami. Religions all over the globe have used my existence in their holy tales.

Many, as well as give me a name, have theorised my appearance. Most conjure an image in their mind of a skeleton dressed in a black robe, with a scythe in hand. The Greeks gave me a pair of black wings to fly around in. The Egyptians said I had the head of a jackal.

None of them are correct or incorrect. I’m as fluid as the waters of the great oceans encasing the land. I adopt whatever form I choose, or whatever form makes others most comfortable. I don’t think humans quite understand that they elect for me to appear as a skeleton, as they always seem to look at me with fear in their eyes.

Some have concluded me as nothing more than an event. Others find themselves terrified of me, anxiously awaiting the day I meet them. For some, I’m extremely symbolic. For a few, I’m evil and cruel.

I don’t think that’s true. I have a job, and I do it as best I can. I can’t exactly let people wander the earth freely, enjoying immortality.

I’m neither good nor bad. I’m not anything. I merely deliver people to a place where they can rest their soul. Some people only relax for a short period of time before inhabiting another form on Earth. That’s reincarnation.

Others decide to roam the world, in search of a hit of serotonin from nostalgia. Humans can be so sentimental. I’ve never understood it very well, but humans do, so I let them.

You have some souls who wish to guide and support the ones they left behind; helping them to make more informed and better decisions. People can make some very stupid decisions.

And then some take up their spot in the afterlife, resting their weary souls and finally hitting the hay. Once they do that, there’s no way to come back from it.

I wish to tell you a story. It’s not a terribly long one, but I wish for you to hear it. I want to tell you the story of a remarkable individual, named Rose. I’ve met every person to have roamed this earth, but very few people manage to surprise me. Rose was one of those strange people who gave me a window into humanity.

Death is an end. Death is a new chapter. Death is me. I am Death.

⤜☽⊖☾⤛

The English countryside was running rampant with sickness. It had already claimed thousands of lives in Asia, but through trade the plague had reached the coast of Italy, which sent millions to the grave. People dropped dead like flies; black swells forming all over their body, blood spewing from their mouths, and then finally the three days of agonising pain was over.

The people made it easy. Red crosses marked the doors, stones boarded windows and openings to stop the illness from reaching anyone else. Whole towns were abandoned, which left the smell of neglect in the air.

The crows called my name. They were loud and screeching, but the nature of the announcement is melodic to me. They announce departing souls to I, the collector, who wanders in search of these lost and confused souls. They flapped their black wings and stared at me with their beady, ebony coloured eyes. The murder of crows grew by the minute, all drawn to the chilly feeling of death. I gave them a solemn nod; a gesture of my gratitude. While they can be slightly loud and annoying, they do a great service to me. I found myself in a great forest in Dorset, being pulled toward the scene.

I could smell it the closer I walked towards it. Scenes where people have passed smell different. Where people have died gruesome deaths and have sat a few hours it smells revolting. Where people have died in a fire it smells like smoke, but the smell of tragedy is the same at each.

I was called toward a wide stream, where I could see a child’s corpse wedged between the rocks, its hair bobbing up and down in the water. The current was quick, and the rocks looked sharp. And it smelled… off. The death of a child is always tragic, I could smell it. You can smell the sorrow in the air. Generally, children do nothing to deserve such a fate.

The corpse was of a young human girl, with fair, blonde curls stained in a sticky blood. Her head was bloody and bruised, and her skin looked green and sickly. She had been dead for a few hours, at least. The crows had come late, and not for the first time. Looking at the lifeless body, I concluded her head injuries would have killed her before the drowning had. Diluted blood lingered on the rocks, from when the tide became low after she had died.

The crows swarmed overhead, seating themselves on the thick branches shading the stream. They titled their heads to and fro, watching me eagerly. A lot of the birds hung around, even after I had come to the sight. I pulled my black hood over my eyes, and draped my sleeves over my bare bones. I don’t know why, but I am considered scary to some. Especially young children, which this girl obviously was.

I rested my long, narrow staff against the thick trunk of a tree, and squatted down on the muddy banks of the river. Like a butterfly escaping a cocoon, the spirit of the child emerged from the corpse. The fair haired girl, who was no older than eight, turned into a dark blue glow. Her form mimicked her human one, just with a different colour and transparency.

“W-Where am I?” the girl asked worriedly. Anxiety bubbled in her voice as she looked down at her blue, transparent hands, turning them over.

“The plane between life and the afterlife” I answered in return.

“Am I dead?”

I nodded. There’s little point in sugarcoating the truth, especially when you’re dead. It saves pointless confusion later.

Glass-like tears formed on the rims of the girl’s eyes, cascading down her cheeks like the river in which she was trapped in. The confusion and pain must have overwhelmed her.

“What’s your name, little one?” I asked.

Through the sobs and hysteria, she finally managed to give an answer that was somewhat intelligible.

“My n-n-name is Rose. My mummy’s going to be so mad at me!” she hung her head in the tiny palms of her hands, sobbing.

“How did you come to pass, Rose?” I doubted it was a successful suicide attempt given her age. It was probably an accident, or perhaps even homicide.

“My parents were busy, so I ran to the river to play with the fish, and I slipped! Now everyone’s going to be so upset at me!” she cried.

I looked at the young girl who was shaking uncontrollably, rubbing her arms vigorously, trying to work out the best way to deal with the decision. I’m not great with human emotions, as I am obviously not a human myself.

“I promise that I won’t hurt you” I stretched my hand, waiting for the cautious and scared girl to accept it.

“I don’t want to be dead,” she pleaded. She shaked her wispy curls from side to side, tears still flowing violently down her face.

’Can’t I stay here? Why do I have to go? I can’t go! Please, I have jobs, and siblings I need to look after. My parents will be mad if I don’t look after them” she tried to reason with me, but her fate had already been sealed. There was nothing I could possibly do to bargain with her fate, even if I wanted.

I could be patient. I could wait. And I did, as this girl was is in denial of her passing. I didn’t mind waiting for her to come to some form of acceptance with her fate. It took most people a while.

“Are you dead?” she asked me.

I shrugged. I am Death, but what exactly does that mean? Am I dead myself? The rules of my existence are far too complex for the mind of the young girl. No, I am Death, who cares for the dead. I’m not dead myself.

“I’m more of a guardian, for dead people. I’ll walk you to wherever you must rest. I can be your friend until you reach your final resting place. Would you like a friend?” I offered.

Rose gave me a sceptical look, full of distrust and uncertainty. Despite being so young, she was certainly not naive. Obviously she had reason to be distrusting, as most children follow me willingly. She was quite intelligent for her age.

My bony, spidery fingers were still outstretched toward the spirit squatting in amongst the river rocks. She could still feel the coldness of the water washing over her newly deceased body. It would take a few minutes for her body to fully separate from her soul.

“You’ll keep sitting in the cold if you don’t come with me. I promise I’ll look after you” I told her. And I meant it, genuinely. I have no gain from lying to her.

That seemed to be the reassurance the small girl needed.

“Okay then, don’t let me slip, please” Rose answered in a series of quick nods.

“Promise I won’t” I smiled at her. She couldn’t technically slip, but I wasn’t going to bother explaining how that worked. If my promises were what was going to earn her trust, I was willing to continue making them.

She nodded vigorously and wobbled her way to the top of the rocks, standing on the tips of her toes. Rose obviously didn’t understand she can’t be hurt if she’s dead, but again, there’s little point in explaining such things to such a young girl.

I quickly grasped my long, wooden staff, so that she had something strong to grip onto to help her out of the water. Her royal blue hue illuminated the water as she anxiously trembled on the tips of the rock.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you” I assured her. I could feel how tightly she was gripping onto the wooden staff, considering how pale her knuckles appeared.

Rose awkwardly made her way onto the muddy banks of the river, trying to regain her balance.

“You had me. You didn’t let me go” Rose looked up at me with her doe eyes, looking pleasantly surprised with my ability to hold up my end of a deal.

“I made a promise, didn’t I? Good friends keep their ends of the promise”

“I don’t have any friends. They’re all dead”

“You have me for now” I told her. Rose obviously hadn’t lived a terribly pleasant life.

“How old are you, Rose?” I quizzed her.

“Seven” she replied. It’s a miracle she had lived as long as she had. Most children die within the first three years of life. She hadn’t seen much of life, but she lived longer than most. Especially given the state of things.

“Most people tell me about their lives when they pass. Would you like to tell me about yours?” I suggested.

I’ve heard many stories over the years from people reliving their best, and sometimes worst, memories from life. It’s helped me develop a degree of sympathy and understanding of the horribly complex yet stupid human nature. I can’t experience human emotion, but with millions of years of harvesting the souls of the living and escorting them to the beyond, I’ve learnt what makes people most comfortable.

“I don’t have much to tell,” Rose sniffled, wiping her nose.

“That’s alright, tell me what you do have to remember”

“I had a cow,” Rose said.

“What was your cow’s name?” I asked.

“Betsie. She was big, brown, and hairy. My mum had to make me cut the hair out of her eyes because she would run into things. She smelt really bad, but she was fun to play with” Rose explained.

I hummed in reply. I’ve helped cows across the plane between life and death. They’re very loud, but can’t articulate anything intelligent.

“My mummy was thinking of selling Betsie. We don’t have much money. I said I wanted to keep Betsie, but my parents got really angry with me when I said that. My parents don’t like me very much, I don’t think” Rose continued.

“Why wouldn’t your parents like you? I think you’re very nice”

“I’m a girl. We have one boy, who is the youngest of my siblings, but he can’t do much yet until he’s grown up a bit. My parents said they wished he was the eldest so that they got more help. I try and help, but no one really cares about what I do”

Most adult humans fail to understand they’re all viewed the same by things like myself. There’s little difference between girls and boys to me, little that I can see at least. Most humans are obsessed with superiority, and being seen as above others. It makes no difference to me.

This is where I still fail to understand human concepts. They treat such a system with great importance. While they’re obsessed with progression, and yet they still manage to walk backwards regardless.

“They used to hit me with a big stick when I did something wrong, it used to hurt really bad. I eventually got used to it, but I didn’t enjoy it very much. They used to hit me and leave me out in the fields for hours, and wouldn’t let me back inside. I got so hungry” Rose said.

“If you want to, you can come back to Earth and live with people who appreciate you more. You shouldn’t have been treated like that, and I’m deeply sorry you were treated in that way”

Rose vigorously shook her head from side to side, indicating a clear no.

“It was scary, being near the river. It hurt so much. I don’t want to do that again. And I don’t want to have my parents hurt me again.”

“Not everyone’s parents are like that. I’ve met some very lovely people who care about their children very much. Maybe you can come back as a crow, and help me. Crows only have parents until they’re a year old”

Rose’s face insinuated that even that idea frightened her.

“Please don’t make me do that”

⤜☽⊖☾⤛

We walked from the riverbank into the forest. The crows disappeared, flying away above the thick trees. Rose told me her fondest memories of her childhood, mainly memories of her sisters and brother getting up to mischief in the farm.

The trees overhead shielded the awkward direction that the sun shone in. The forest was blanketed in green ferns and brown leaves, and placid animals grazing the forest floor. The way Rose could so easily navigate her way through the twisting roots of the trees suggested that she had been through that part of the forest countless times before.

“Do you like playing in the forest?” I asked Rose.

She screwed up her nose and looked up toward the sky, in thought to compose an answer.

“It’s nice in the summer, but it’s a little scary when it gets dark. My sisters and brother used to play ‘Kings and Queens’ in the forest. There was a big tree near the stream that we used to call the castle” Rose responded.

Humans and their imaginations never fail to astound me.

“Did you play a queen?” I asked.

“Since I’m the oldest, yes. You can’t have the youngest on the throne, everyone knows that. That’s how the royal family works, silly”

“I’m not very well versed in how monarchy works. I know that Edward the Third is sitting on the throne, and that’s about all. I don’t have much care for politics.” I replied.

“Is there a castle where we’re going?” Rose asked.

“That all depends on where your soul decides we go. I’ll walk whatever length it takes for your soul to finally rest” I said.

“I want there to be a real castle. A big, stone one. With large, wide windows and a huge balcony so I can overlook a garden” Rose theatrically flourished her hands to emphasise how big she wanted her castle to be.

“What would you like in your garden?”

“I want a rose for every colour of the rainbow, so it can be the Rose garden. I want red ones, orange ones, yellow ones, green ones, blue ones and pink ones!” she explained.

“What about purple?”

“No one has purple roses silly!”

“No one has blue or green ones either”

Rose pouted.

“Well, I’ll have them. I’ll have the nicest garden ever, and it won’t smell like cows or pigs. It’ll be clean and will smell like flowers, and it will have a nice fountain in the middle of a green hedge that the birds can drink from. And then each day I can take a walk in the gardens and prune, weed and water all my lovely plants”

“I would very much like to see that garden. It sounds delightful” I said.

“You’d be welcome anytime. And so would any friends of yours. Everyone who is nice to me would be welcomed in the garden, and could stay as long as they like in the castle”

What a generous and unfortunate child. I felt sorry for her, and sad that she had to be raised by such cruel parents. Her intentions were so pure and kind, it’s hard to believe that her parents gave such little positive attention to her.

We continued walking. The thing about being deceased is that there are no longer any mortal restraints stopping you from anything, really. While a child may start complaining and inquiring when the journey meets its end when they’re alive, they no longer experience fatigue once they’re dead. It’s much more pleasant when you haven’t a youngling complaining of their aching feet.

The sun began to set overhead, draping the sky in a beautiful pink. While I don’t find pleasure in the materialistic desires of humans, I do find the world’s natural bounty and beauty to be breathtaking as the humans do. The sky exploded in an array of orange, pink and the remains of the light blue sky from the daytime.

“So, what happens now? We’ve been walking for quite a while. Where do I go? Where do you go?” Rose asked thoughtfully. As we walked through a corn field, her small figure easily weaved through the plants, but I found it difficult to see her. Her glow is the only thing making her visible to me.

“Well, I’ll walk you to wherever your resting place is. Only you will discover that, for I can’t walk with you there. I stay behind, on Earth, collecting the souls of the dead and escorting them. I’ll listen to the crows call my name, with news of a dead person, and I’ll respond to them” I answered.

“Wouldn’t there be lots of people dying at once? How do you have time to help them all?” Rose asked.

“I’m not a mortal, like you were. I don’t need to comply with the laws of your existence. I can be in multiple places at once, collecting multiple souls at once. I go by many names, and assume many forms. As of now, I’m very busy”

“Because of the plague? My mummy’s been very scared of it. She says that God is punishing all those who disobeyed him with a horrible sickness. Mummy says I have to be good or we will all be killed. My aunty, uncle and all my cousins died of it. They lived in London. You might have collected them then” Rose explained.

“I would have then. The plague has made my job a lot harder”

“I’m glad I died drowning. It’s quicker than the plague. My aunty wrote to us saying that our uncle had died in three days! That’s a very long time to be sick like that for”

“Dying is never a pleasant experience. There’s so much of the world you humans haven’t managed to discover and appreciate. Mountain ranges, beautiful lush rainforests, desert land. All sorts of different cultures dotted across the world, that a regular person would never be able to learn to love. Death is very restricting, and very unpleasant. Did you know, there is a country so big, you could fit England into it 59 times? With the plague running wild, you would never be able to appreciate it before your death” I retorted.

“I didn’t like living very much” Rose said.

Mortals are rather peculiar creatures. Remarkable and interesting, but peculiar. Rose would join that selective group of people who I found extremely peculiar. All humans are weird and strange in their own ways, but the way Rose shrugged off her original hysteria and was talking and trusting a hooded skeleton figure makes her part of that extraordinary group of individuals I come across occasionally.

The way she was skipping and weaving between the corn stalks so casually led me to believe she truly did have little care for her life. Most people shed tears the entire walk. She seemed entirely unbothered. I agreed with her, death was much easier than life, but from years of listening to the regrets of humans who had not lived long, perhaps soon Rose would understand it too.

“Wouldn’t it be nicer coming back though? You could come back as royalty and live in your own castle, and make your own garden while you’re alive. You might regret not coming back in a few years. When you finally move on, you can’t come back. If you have anything you couldn’t do while you were alive, you should come back and do them” I tried to persuade her.

“Wake up, farm for hours, come back inside, eat, sleep and do it all over again? I don’t want to live like that again” Rose said.

“It doesn’t always have to be like that”

Rose looked at me up and down, trying to detect a lie in my voice. She was one of the most observant children I had ever met.

“Okay, I might consider it then… I just don’t want to live a horrible life again, and have to deal with the pain and suffering. I want a mummy and daddy who love and care about me. I don’t want parents who yell and scream at me, and hurt me, like mine did”

I sighed. If only meeting such preferences were that easy.

“Pain and suffering is a part of life, but you can’t let those sorts of things override the good in this world. You’ll meet people who love and adore you, and you’ll meet people you’ll absolutely despise. What’s important is what sort of person you are, and how you make other people feel” I explained.

⤜☽⊖☾⤛

Rose and I walked through the corn fields, and through some villages of much familiarity to the both of us. The working peasants of countryside England dropped dead quite regularly without the assistance of the plague. With such a disease running rampant through Europe, there were even more people falling prey to me. I had walked these streets many times before, and entered numerous of the boarded up houses.

Rose pointed out all the familiar shops and houses she had seen during her time alive. Most places had been boarded up and marked with red paint in the shape of a cross. The town looked ghostly; silent and sickly. It was quite a disturbing sight.

“If I came back, would I have to live through this again?” Rose asked. She didn’t sound keen on returning anytime soon. I couldn’t blame her. It was an awful time to be alive.

“It’s hard to say. Time flows differently when you’re dead. You might be gone for one day, one week, one month, one year. Maybe even one hundred years. I can’t promise you won’t see the plague when you return, but I’m not saying you will either. Time is a funny concept. I don’t know how long this illness will last, nor do I know when you’ll presume a new form. It’s all too hard to say” I explained.

I could see how content Rose was with my honesty. She must have met many liars within her lifetime. I see no point in lying. I think it’s counterproductive.

The town faded away, and houses grew sparse as we continued our pilgrimage. Houses and shopfronts turned into large fields dotted with cattle and vegetation. Rose skipped along the path, sometimes stopping to point out plant specimens she was familiar with, or to show me the home of a friend who passed away due to the plague.

As the terrain got rougher, there was a familiar tingling in my fingertips every step I walked. I knew the feeling well; an indication of the conclusion of a spirit’s life. Whether Rose knew it or not, we were nearing our destination, where our journey would meet its end.

“How much longer will we need to walk? It’s getting quite dark” Rose asked. Indeed, the sun had descended, leaving the sky painted an indigo colour. Stars danced in the sky as if they had feet, and the moon was gradually glowing.

“Just up ahead” I responded.

And just then, the road groaned and moaned; opening up from underneath our feet. A dark cavern formed just ahead of young Rose. Some might expect the sounds of wailing, crying and flames flickering, but the cavern was still and quiet. While in the ground, it doesn’t lead to Hell, despite the ideas humans have formed of it. Religion is a funny thing.

“So I have to go down there now?” Rose asked, cautiously nearing the entranceway. She obviously was raised in a Catholic household, and could assume the hole led to Hell.

“It’s not Hell, believe me. It’s your ticket to a better life. Better make up your decision now little one. It’s your call” I warned her.

Rose inhaled deeply, staring down into the dark hole. Her decision would be sealed as soon as she jumped down into the cavern.

“Fine. I’ll do it” she sighed. Rose nervously circled the cavern, trying to study the fall.

“You can’t die again, just jump and have faith in it. It won’t hurt” I assured her.

“Promise?”

“Promise. And I won’t break it. You’ll fall for a while, but when you open your eyes, you’ll be alive again”

Rose inhaled sharply and closed her eyes.

“I think I’m ready,” she croaked nervously.

“I have all the time in the world”

She jumped.