Angel of Death

I do not fear Death.

“I have come for your soul.”

I smile at the thought. A soul, my soul, as if something that sounded so simple could be any less complex.

“And what would I get in exchange for said soul?” The room is cold and I shiver unwillingly, unable to stop the goose bumps from rising on my skin.

“Eternal peace.”

I turn from the window to stare back at the shadowy figure in the room with me.

“That’s an awfully long time,” I smile again. The figure moves closer until I can see his face. I’m taken aback by his beauty. For something, someone, who is seemingly so terrible, Death looks nothing like you would expect.

“You have no fear.” It’s a statement, not a question, but I nod anyway.

Have you ever stared Death in the eye? Have you ever been so close to Death that if you were to reach out your hand you could touch him and know that it’s the end?

I know that the average person would be frightened, shaking in Death’s presence, uncertain of what was ahead of them. But for me, uncertainty made my heart pound in excitement. I couldn’t help but wonder what Death had to offer.

As if it had a mind of its own, my hand shot up toward Death’s face, hovering nearby with an urge to stroke the smooth skin. How could Death look so inviting?

A gloved hand clasped my wrist.

“Don’t.” A whisper.

“Why not?” I chuckle. “Isn’t it my time?”

Dark eyes roam over my face.

“Can I stay with you?”

“What?”

“When I die, when you take my soul, can I stay with you?”

Gloved fingers graze my cheek. I grab them, gripping the fingers with my own.

“Why do you welcome me so easily?”

“Curiosity, I suppose.” I meet his steady gaze, knowing that my eyes are showing off their usual playful glint. “So are you going to take my soul?”

And in the blink of an eye Death is gone, no trace of the mysterious man to be found.

---

Death has had a serious impact on my life. Not the typical impact, where you realize you need to enjoy life while you still have it. No, this impact had me begging for Death to return to me. This life had nothing left to offer me; no excitement.

I found myself in a situation I didn’t think I would ever find myself in: I was willingly seeking Death.

It started small. I was trying, but not really trying. I would cross the street without looking; I wouldn’t pay attention to others around me while driving. Simple, careless acts that continued to fail me.

When I realized that I would need to be more purposeful in my attempts, I started to look at my life to see if it was something that I really wanted to leave.

I thought of my parents, my father had already met Death… I only talked to my Mom a few times a year, our relationship strained since the death of her husband. She said I looked too much like him.

I didn’t have any siblings, no close friends, no boyfriend or husband of my own. I had a job I enjoyed and a cat I liked to pet while it purred from my lap in the evening. There was nothing tying me to this life. Maybe the cat, but if I found it a good home…

---

I had found a new home for my cat, and I had packed up my belongings in my apartment. It would be my last good deed before I was gone, saving whoever found me the trouble of having to deal with cleaning my apartment. It would be as simple as piling boxes into a truck and driving it off into the sunset, or whatever they did with the belongings of someone deceased. I suppose it’d go to my mother who would probably just want it thrown out.

All I had now, that I cared about, were the mixture of pills I had lined up on the counter in front of me. Tylenol bottles, half full prescription bottles, and a few bottles of water. I smiled, which I’m sure is unusual for someone about to end their life, but the circumstances of my ‘suicide’ were not normal. I wasn’t doing this to get away from the realities of my own life; I was doing this to meet Death, to go on to the next great adventure. I was ready for this.

---

I had often thought about what would happen when I died. Would I just fade into nothingness? Would I go up into Heaven or haunt the lives of people on Earth?

I always thought there had to be something after you died… it was hard to wrap your mind around just dying and no longer existing.

And soon I would find out. I couldn’t help myself and laughed softly. Soon. So soon and I could answer my questions; I would fulfill my curiosity.

I leaned against the counter, eyes closed, waiting ever so patiently to feel my death upon me. It didn’t take long, my brain going foggy and I could feel myself sliding down, down…

The empty pill bottles fell to the floor, their plastic noise muffled by my cotton filled head. Eyelids heavier than stones could not even attempt to open. On the floor of my kitchen, I felt as if I was floating, floating away… I felt light as air. And then suddenly, nothing.

---

He was there, standing over my body as he pulled his gloves on.

“Have you collected my soul?”

He turned to stare at me; or what was left of me. It was strange to look at yourself dead on the floor while you felt as if you still existed. I felt weightless and warm, and there was a strange clarity to things.

“Why?” he questioned, ignoring my own question as he indicated my lifeless form.

My eyes met his as I answered, “I wanted to see you.”

“You do not fear me,” he stated, causing me to recall the first time we met.

“You fascinate me,” I said. He moved towards me, almost gliding. He circled me, my ghost or whatever you wanted to call me. “What am I now?”

“Just a ghost of who you were,” he answered quietly. “This is your form until you choose to move on.”

“And if I choose not to?”

“It’s the only way to achieve peace.”

“I’ve never felt more at peace than I do now,” I said. “Why didn’t you take my soul at our first meeting?”

He shook his head and I laughed. He looked at me in surprise.

“Death at a loss for words,” I chuckled. “Never thought I’d live to see the day… Oh wait.”

Death watched me for a minute before a ghost of a smile crossed his lips.

“You fascinate me.” He repeats my words.

I reached out, grabbing his hand.

“Let me stay with you,” I said, pulling at the fingers of his gloves until his hand was free. “I want to know you.”

“I wish you could.”

Cold fingers traced the side of my face and things began to fade. Before I could react, I felt true peace washing over me, and my sight quickly started to darken. The last thing I saw were Death’s eyes, empty except for a faint hint of regr