Megan the Insane (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} terioncalling) wrote,@ 2007-12-22 21:38:00 |
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| Current mood: |  calm |
| Current music: | Holes |
“Hmm…so it is time.”
“What?” exclaimed William Guthrie, lifting his head to stare at the figure that had appeared on the other side of his father’s bed. Rising, he clenched his fists to snarl, “Who the hell are you?”
The cloaked figure lifted its head and pale eyes glowed out from underneath the hood at him and William was startled by the sheer weight in that gaze. He took a nervous step back then swallowed hard, regaining his courage, and moved back forward.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“A friend, I suppose, is the best explanation,” replied the figure in a strangely youthful voice. It then swept back its hood to reveal the face of a youth and William stared in surprise.
“You…you’re a child.”
The youth laughed and fixed him with a steady gaze from those knowing eyes, which William noticed were just like the eyes of a blind man. “I,” he said, “am not a child. Appearances, William August Guthrie, can always be deceiving.”
“How do you know my name? Why are you here?”
“I am here for your father. Though I appear to be a little early and for that I apologize.”
William scowled then spat, “My father has been sick for twenty years so there’s no way he could know you. So, please, leave however you came and let him die in peace.”
The youth cocked his head to the side and said softly, “As I said, I am here for your father. We are old acquaintances.”
“Look, you crazy kid…”
“William,” croaked the figure on the bed between them as he lifted a frail hand. “Please…”
“Father, you’re too ill for visitors,” intoned William as if to a child as he crouched down next to the bed. “He should leave.”
Terrence, weak with old age and a sickness, smiled at his son then turned his head to look at the cloaked youth on the other side of the bed. He coughed briefly then murmured, “I’ve been expecting you for a long time.”
The youth smiled and replied, “I come only when I am needed, Terrence. You should remember that.”
“I remember. But I’ve suffered for so long…so long a lingering…”
“I am here now, Terrence. All will end soon enough.”
“ ‘All will end,’ ” repeated William slowly. He then rose angrily and demanded, “What the hell is going on here?! Father, who is this child?”
“Child?” asked Terrence, truly surprised. He then managed a chuckle and smiled at the youth, as if they shared an old and personal joke. “He is no child, William.”
“He’s fifteen!”
The youth smiled and Terrence leaned towards his son slightly.
“He is Death, William, not a child.”
William blinked then stood, looking from his weakened father in his bed to the blind youth standing solemnly nearby. He then reached across the bed and grabbed him by the front of his cloak, jerking him slightly onto the bed, snarling, “You little shit! How dare you fill my father’s heads with such madness!?”
“William,” protested Terrence but was ignored.
The youth smiled calmly, lifting a pale hand to grip William’s where it was clenched in his cloak. He then leaned back slightly, almost dragging the man with him across the bed but he let go of the cloak, and the youth straightened it to neatness again with a wave of his hand that didn’t quite touch his clothes. Then he smiled and held that hand out away from his body and grasped a scythe that appeared very clearly out of nowhere – just as he had before.
Death smiled at William’s look of shock and asked, “Do you believe now, dear William?”
“I…I…”
Death chuckled merrily and said, “That is a ‘yes’, I believe. Now, Terrence, my old acquaintance, are you ready?”
The aged man uttered a laugh that turned into a bout of loud coughing but struggled through it with a smile. “Ready?” he asked. “I have been ready for a long time.”
“Then come,” uttered the seeming youth, stretching out the hand not holding the scythe.
“Father!” exclaimed William in fear as Terrence stretched out his hand. But Death grasped it before it could fall away and gripped it tight, catching the son with a stare that froze him in mid-rise from his chair.
“It is time to let him go, William,” said Death. “As he let your sister Julia go and your mother Kallie. He has long been in the waiting line.”
William blinked then looked at his father, shocked into sinking back down into his seat by the look of…peace…on the weary features. He felt tears stinging his eyes then and nodded, breathing, “Alright. If this is what’s to be…”
“It is, son,” murmured Terrence, reaching out with his other hand. He touched his son’s bowed head and smiled when he looked up at him. “Remember I love you. And I’ll see you again.”
“Yes,” said Death. He then pulled his hand away from Terrence’s but it still appeared he was holding a hand in his. William let out a sob as he watched the life fade from his father’s eyes then looked up at the seemingly blind youth, who was frowning apologetically as he held one hand in the air…as if resting on someone’s shoulder. “This was his time.”
“I know,” managed William. “It just…hurts.”
“As it always does. But the pain will fade and life will continue on for you just as it did for you and your father after your mother and sister’s deaths.”
“Can you…can you tell me how long I have?”
Death smiled sadly at that, saying, “No mortal wishes to truly no how much longer they have to live. You are young, William. Live your life – I assure you that it will be some time before I have need to come for you.”
He cocked his head then, as if listening to someone, and chuckled.
“Or if, as your father reminds me, you have a misstep before you are meant to die.”
William just stared then rose to his feet as the cloaked youth turned to leave. “That’s it?”
“That,” said Death over his shoulder, “is it. I am not something to be welcomed, William. Now remember…live.”
He was gone then, leaving the man with his father’s body in an empty room. William stood there for a moment then turned and went to open the window, calling out to the gravedigger that had been standing at the door for the past few days that his father had passed.
Then he turned back and stared at the body for a moment, thinking over what had been said. With a sad smile, he nodded to it, and murmured, “I’ll live, Father. I promise you that.”
“What?” exclaimed William Guthrie, lifting his head to stare at the figure that had appeared on the other side of his father’s bed. Rising, he clenched his fists to snarl, “Who the hell are you?”
The cloaked figure lifted its head and pale eyes glowed out from underneath the hood at him and William was startled by the sheer weight in that gaze. He took a nervous step back then swallowed hard, regaining his courage, and moved back forward.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“A friend, I suppose, is the best explanation,” replied the figure in a strangely youthful voice. It then swept back its hood to reveal the face of a youth and William stared in surprise.
“You…you’re a child.”
The youth laughed and fixed him with a steady gaze from those knowing eyes, which William noticed were just like the eyes of a blind man. “I,” he said, “am not a child. Appearances, William August Guthrie, can always be deceiving.”
“How do you know my name? Why are you here?”
“I am here for your father. Though I appear to be a little early and for that I apologize.”
William scowled then spat, “My father has been sick for twenty years so there’s no way he could know you. So, please, leave however you came and let him die in peace.”
The youth cocked his head to the side and said softly, “As I said, I am here for your father. We are old acquaintances.”
“Look, you crazy kid…”
“William,” croaked the figure on the bed between them as he lifted a frail hand. “Please…”
“Father, you’re too ill for visitors,” intoned William as if to a child as he crouched down next to the bed. “He should leave.”
Terrence, weak with old age and a sickness, smiled at his son then turned his head to look at the cloaked youth on the other side of the bed. He coughed briefly then murmured, “I’ve been expecting you for a long time.”
The youth smiled and replied, “I come only when I am needed, Terrence. You should remember that.”
“I remember. But I’ve suffered for so long…so long a lingering…”
“I am here now, Terrence. All will end soon enough.”
“ ‘All will end,’ ” repeated William slowly. He then rose angrily and demanded, “What the hell is going on here?! Father, who is this child?”
“Child?” asked Terrence, truly surprised. He then managed a chuckle and smiled at the youth, as if they shared an old and personal joke. “He is no child, William.”
“He’s fifteen!”
The youth smiled and Terrence leaned towards his son slightly.
“He is Death, William, not a child.”
William blinked then stood, looking from his weakened father in his bed to the blind youth standing solemnly nearby. He then reached across the bed and grabbed him by the front of his cloak, jerking him slightly onto the bed, snarling, “You little shit! How dare you fill my father’s heads with such madness!?”
“William,” protested Terrence but was ignored.
The youth smiled calmly, lifting a pale hand to grip William’s where it was clenched in his cloak. He then leaned back slightly, almost dragging the man with him across the bed but he let go of the cloak, and the youth straightened it to neatness again with a wave of his hand that didn’t quite touch his clothes. Then he smiled and held that hand out away from his body and grasped a scythe that appeared very clearly out of nowhere – just as he had before.
Death smiled at William’s look of shock and asked, “Do you believe now, dear William?”
“I…I…”
Death chuckled merrily and said, “That is a ‘yes’, I believe. Now, Terrence, my old acquaintance, are you ready?”
The aged man uttered a laugh that turned into a bout of loud coughing but struggled through it with a smile. “Ready?” he asked. “I have been ready for a long time.”
“Then come,” uttered the seeming youth, stretching out the hand not holding the scythe.
“Father!” exclaimed William in fear as Terrence stretched out his hand. But Death grasped it before it could fall away and gripped it tight, catching the son with a stare that froze him in mid-rise from his chair.
“It is time to let him go, William,” said Death. “As he let your sister Julia go and your mother Kallie. He has long been in the waiting line.”
William blinked then looked at his father, shocked into sinking back down into his seat by the look of…peace…on the weary features. He felt tears stinging his eyes then and nodded, breathing, “Alright. If this is what’s to be…”
“It is, son,” murmured Terrence, reaching out with his other hand. He touched his son’s bowed head and smiled when he looked up at him. “Remember I love you. And I’ll see you again.”
“Yes,” said Death. He then pulled his hand away from Terrence’s but it still appeared he was holding a hand in his. William let out a sob as he watched the life fade from his father’s eyes then looked up at the seemingly blind youth, who was frowning apologetically as he held one hand in the air…as if resting on someone’s shoulder. “This was his time.”
“I know,” managed William. “It just…hurts.”
“As it always does. But the pain will fade and life will continue on for you just as it did for you and your father after your mother and sister’s deaths.”
“Can you…can you tell me how long I have?”
Death smiled sadly at that, saying, “No mortal wishes to truly no how much longer they have to live. You are young, William. Live your life – I assure you that it will be some time before I have need to come for you.”
He cocked his head then, as if listening to someone, and chuckled.
“Or if, as your father reminds me, you have a misstep before you are meant to die.”
William just stared then rose to his feet as the cloaked youth turned to leave. “That’s it?”
“That,” said Death over his shoulder, “is it. I am not something to be welcomed, William. Now remember…live.”
He was gone then, leaving the man with his father’s body in an empty room. William stood there for a moment then turned and went to open the window, calling out to the gravedigger that had been standing at the door for the past few days that his father had passed.
Then he turned back and stared at the body for a moment, thinking over what had been said. With a sad smile, he nodded to it, and murmured, “I’ll live, Father. I promise you that.”