Death's Wish

Death has a wish too. The great lord wishes to end his loneliness by taking a bride, but not just any bride, Marla. The one to whom his heart belongs.

    A chilled wind blows over the dark forest. Within the folds of the thick trees a small cottage is set, it‘s windows flicker with the glow of candles as the light fades. An old woman walks within the house. Her back is hunched over in her years, her hair as white as freshly fallen snow, and her face is filled with a wrinkled charm. Her presence is warm and grandmotherly, giving one memories of a great life and wisdom.

 

    She moves slowly within her cottage cleaning what she can, she pauses and stands before the window. She stares up through the break in the tree’s mighty limbs. The night sky is empty of the moon and even the stars shine dimly in their black canvas. A prophetic quiet settles over the forest, the wind dies and the creatures hurry off, hiding in their holes for they know what is to come. She sighs deeply and stands at the window a moment longer. A slight rustling issues from behind her, she smiles mournfully and speaks;

 

    “My good friend Death, what brings you into my company so soon?” She turns to meet her companion.

 

    He stands leaning against the wall of the cottage, his arms crossed over his broad, well-defined chest, his face holds a look of one who has grown impatient of an unruly child. He sighs heavily and pushes away from the wall; he unfolds his arms and allows them to fall to his sides. He is a handsome man with a strong build. He has a tanned complexion with dark hair framed around his face, his eyes, black as night, hold a depth unfathomable to the human mind. He is tall with a heartbreaking beauty.

 

    “You know why I have come, Dear Lady, and you also have knowledge that is well past the time for me to take you from this retched life.”

 

    “Aye and by many years, if my memory is to be correct,” She adds letting him know that she knew full well her time had come and gone.

 

    “Aye, your memory is long and withstanding.” He states in an all knowing tone. She crosses the room and sits in a small wicker rocker. She sits for a while, and says nothing. She closes her eyes, oh she is so tired but she knows that to rest is to die. She opens her eyes once again.

 

    “Tell me of when we first met,” She pleads without looking at him.

 

    “You ask me that each time I come for you, and each time I am tricked into giving you more time. I have no more time to give,” His voice is calm but there is an undercurrent of anger.

 

    “Good friend you should not grudge me my will to live-.”

 

    “To what point, woman! You have watched me carry off those you love, your friends your family, and still you wish to see the dawn of another day. Come with me, Dear Woman, be apart of my court. Be by my side and comfort those who fall into my bosom. What reason do you have to stay in life, especially when you ache from the weight of it? In death there is no pain only rest for weary souls. Please come with me, let me show you the love I feel.”

 

    “Why do you ask me to? I cannot love you in return and beyond that, I am old. You see me now, do I not repulse you as you look upon me?” He shook his head slowly and softly said;

 

    “The soul has no age, Dear Lady, and it is the soul I take, not the body. Your soul is forever young and pure, ‘tis your soul I have mated and none other will I have. I have proven my patience with these long years in want of you and still you ask more of me. I cannot this time, for my patience is spent. I will wait no longer for you.” His face grows dark and the air around him seems to thrum with his anger. He looks upon her and his anger retracts.

 

    “But you shall wait, if only a few minutes more,” She looks up into his face and quickly looks down again as his anger grows out once more. “I only ask for a story,” She mumbles,” Please tell me of how we first met.”

 

    He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, and in that gesture he looks vulnerable, but at the same time all the more beautiful, like a weeping angel. He walks up to her and catches her chin with his thumb and forefinger, he tilts her head back until their eyes meet, and pulls her up to stand. She gazes deep within the dark eyes before her. Eyes that have suffered the images of death, eyes whose torment are equal to none other, and eyes that wish only comfort from the pain they have seen. Her heart began to melt as she gazed upon him, his request was simple, and he deserved a little peace, but as she thinks it fear unfurls within her lashing her heart like a whip.

 

    “You know me too well, for you know I will deny you nothing.” He leans forward and gently kisses her wrinkled lips. She shivers under his lips, as though she were cold, as shock waves tear down her spine, something follows the shock, a warm sensation that seems to seep right into her bones, but before she has the chance to really figure it out he pulls away. For a moment she holds tightly to him then she remembers her place and lets go. She steps back and feels her lips as they tingle slightly.

 

    “That is the first time you have dared kiss me.” She says still feeling her lips. Her legs feel weak, and she wonders if it’s from the after affects of the kiss or from her old age. She sits in her rocker again, unsure of her stability.

 

    “As I have said, my patience is spent.”

 

    “Then tell me my tale and I will go with thee, willingly, no struggle will come.”

 

    “And you will be my bride?”

 

    Silence stretches between the two. Death stands straight and erect, waiting for her to answer. She sits quietly and ponders the consequences of being Death’s wife, the anger and hatred of those who are not meant to go, watching as the struggle leaves their eyes, knowing that, in all truth, no one wishes for Death and comes willingly unless they have lived for too long or are too sick to live any longer, she would have to help drag spirits away from their loved ones. No she wouldn’t be Death’s wife, she couldn’t, but with him standing before her she couldn’t think straight, he was too beautiful, too perfect, what sort of God would make such an innocent man do such unimaginable work? It was cruel.

 

    “I wish only a story and I will come.”

 

    Damn it, Marel that does not answer my question. But never-the-less I shall tell you, your story, maybe then your opinion of me will change.

 

    "It was many a year ago when I found you. You were just a little thing, wrapped in swaddle and daub. Your parents had been hunted and killed by a great many men who had come to destroy your village. Your father stayed behind whilest your mother took flight with you in her arms. She was weary for you had only been birthed from her the night before..."

 

    The night sky blocked her vision as Astel ran through the forest. She smelled the smoke and heard the screams as they blew in the wind. Her breath came laboriously and her legs burned from the effort of her run. The bundle in her arms carrying her further and further into the woods. A root sprawled out on the forest floor and tripped her. She twisted so that she landed on her shoulder instead of the squirming babe she held. A sickening crack sounded in her shoulder and she sent a cry of agony into the air. Her right arm lay useless and unmoving beneath her. She realized that she could no longer carry her precious child. She bit her lip and rolled to her knees, each movement brought another wave of nauseating pain. She stood carefully, still cradling the bundle to her chest. She wondered over to a row of bushes, laid the babe down beside them and pulled some of the bracken away from the base of a bush. She placed her baby in this cleared spot and before replacing the bracken whispered, "May love find you." She ran then, away from the child so that Death may not find it. But Death did come, in the form of a man.

 

    He was tall and lordly. No sound rang around him, no twitter of bird, nor hum insects. Not even the trees dared to creak in the presence of such power. He knelt by the bushes, his face indifferent, and brushed off the bracken from the bundled child. He found her awake with wide observing eyes the color of a clear summer's sky. She looked at him and did not scream or cry; she only cooed and waved her arms as though he was her father. He looked in her eyes and in that moment his soul was lost, forever held in her tiny hands. He lifted the tiny thing and held her in his arms, in awe that such an insignificant little bundle could have such a grip on his heart. He just stared at the child; he couldn't take her, not now. He cradled her to his chest where she snuggled and fell swiftly to sleep. He smiled with a small grunt of laughter at her courage. He let out a low whistle and in a moment a great stallion stood beside him. The horse was pure black and seemed to prance on a fog of black clouds.

 

    Death mounted the dark horse and pointed it towards the East, he dug in his spurs and the stallion began to race through the fields that soon grew into large forests and changed again into swamp land. The night that had so steadily began to take over the earth, now rushed by and transformed to the grey of dawn. Death sharply pulled the reins of the beast and they came to a quiet stop within a forested meadow, a cottage sat on the far end. It was a small little thing with a garden and small hovel huddling close to it’s side as though for protection. The meadow itself was filled with long grasses, still dewy with the morning, and tiny buds just beginning to stretch for the spring sun. Death stepped down from the horse and walked up to the door of the cottage, the child still wrapped snuggly and in his arms, she still slept deeply. He knocked on the door and had only to wait for but a moment before a woman of middle age answered. However when the woman had seen who had come, she huddled behind the door, trying to hide as much of herself as possible without trying to appear rude.

 

    "I am not here for you, Mary,” Death stated, the woman squeaked and tears came to her eyes, “Neither am I here for your husband. Today was to be his day however, I will not take his soul if you would do something for me.”

 

    The woman stepped from behind the door gaining only the slightest courage from Death’s reprieve.

 

    “What is the favor that the great Lord Death would ask of a mortal?” Her question was not derogatory just curiosity. Death lowered his arm and unwrapped the face of the child. The woman melted inside and walked closer to coo over the babe. The woman herself had been incapable of bearing children and she was close to the age where she would be too old. The tiny bundle was a gift from God to her and he knew that she would not deny herself the chance to raise one even if it was not hers. She took the child in her arms and gently rocked it back and forth. The babe awoke and looked to its new mother, she smiled once more but then looked over to Death and began to reach for him. Mary sidestepped closer and allowed the babe to grasp his cloak. He smiled and reached down to take one of her little hands. She grabbed his finger and held tightly as though fearful to let go. His heart melted more to her and he softly kissed her tiny fingers knowing that he must take his leave. The Lord turned to the new mother.

 

    “I shall come but once a year to look over her until she is grown enough. I shall not approach, but shall merely watch. You will have her for several years yet, tell her not of me until she must know, and raise her well. She is yours now.”

 

    ... Death and Marel walk through the forest. Marel wonders at her knew found strength she had not been able to walk these pathes in many a year. It is marvelous to see how the sun brightens that land in the mornings.

 

    They come to a small stream and Marel stops to take a drink, the water is cool and refreshing as she sips it from her hands. She only stops when she sees her face in the clear water. she is young again. Not within her prime but younger then before. Her hair has color once more and there are fewwer lines etched within her face. She turns to smile up at death, until she realizes that he has stopped talking. Her heart sinks into the pit of her stomach and her mind casts wildly for something to cling to this life if only for a few more seconds.

 

    "Tell me when we meet next." She begs. Death sighs but says nothing. He turns from her but before his back is to her she catches a glimpse of sadness in his eyes that pulls at her heart. She stands and walks closer to him. She opens her mouth to speak but before she can utter a single word Death continues his story.

 

    "It was spring the usual time for me to come and check on your progress. You were eight and the most precious thing I had ever seen...

 

    It was midday in spring and the meadow outside of Marel's home had begun to bloom with the most beautiful wildflowers she had ever seen. She wanted to go outside so badly but Mama had told Papa to not let her take one step out the door. Mama did this every year around this time as though she were afraid that fairies might come and spirit her away. Marel couldn't see anyhting wrong with that and she desprately wanted to go outside.

 

    She crossed the house until she reached the hovel which was her father's woodworking shop. He was focused on a piece of wood he was carving into a table leg. She crept slowly up behind him and cupped her tiny hands over his eyes (or at least as close to his eyes as she could reach) and whispered; "Guess who Papa."

 

    The old man chuckled, "I don't know it couldn't be Marel could it?" He set the peice of wood on the table and spun to catch Marel around the middle, tickling her as he pulled her onto his lap.

 

    "What is it Marel-Angel?" He asked. Marel made a point of jutting out her lower lip as she poutted.

 

    It's such a pretty day outside and there are flowers in the feild, can't I please go outside to pick a few Papa?" She pleaded batting her eyes up at her father.

 

    He smiled but then got serious, "You know what your mother said before she went to market."

 

    "I know, but I'll only be outside for a little bit, and you can say you pick the flowers for Mama."

 

    "Oh, I suppose it'll be alright as long as your back inside before Mama gets home."

 

    "Yeah! Thank you Papa," She squealed. She gave him a big hug and a swift kiss on the cheek before running out of the house and into the meadow.

Author's Note

Something I was inspired to write after reading a pretty good book in my high school library. I would like to know if it is worth continueing please comment your thoughts.

Reviews

[James Johnson]

this is so deep... a great piece of work if i must say so myself :)