ConstantA Story by Chara
Death is a lonely friend. He knocks on my cherry red door during the middle of the night, hindering the good night’s embrace. His intentions remain a mystery to me even unto this day.
A mixture of thoughts and different emotions linger around me like a dust in the corner of the room patiently waiting to be swept. The smell of nostalgia barged into my mind as I thought of the first time Death and I met. As I was striding along the 32nd Street, I saw Death. I was fixated on how helpless he looked, with his broken wings and feathers scattered all over the pavement. Slanted onyx eyes devoid of any emotions looked back at me. It has been years since then, and Death still clings lovingly to me. He became so dear that his entirety slips into my thoughts every now and then. Death is an ambrosia. As I dive into his entirety, I momentarily forget the emptiness that looms over me. The taste of euphoria masks the impending doom of addiction so narcotic that I fail to notice my sinking cheeks and willowy arms. “Death, do you still love me?” I muttered. “Yes.” That three-lettered word put me in a daze. How can someone love me so much despite the state that I’m in? “Be with me.” Death whispered softly with deep affection. “Of course.” I uttered without reluctance as he engulfed me in the warmth of his embrace. © 2019 CharaAuthor's Note
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5 Reviews Added on July 28, 2019 Last Updated on July 31, 2019 Tags: Death, short story, analogy, love Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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