WHEN DEATH COMES

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

WHEN DEATH COMES

By R. Peterson

A silent wind moved through the rooms when Death came, a bitter cold heralding the approach of doom. The book I was reading tumbled to the floor. A long-dead poets words whispering to my thoughts … in my voice … silenced. I reached for the volume and knew better … best to leave broken dreams where they lay. Perhaps in this approaching gloom, I would hear the author speak and the words would once again flow as they should. There must be some light beyond the coming darkness! But then … perhaps we always had it wrong. I moved slowly to a window … lingering over my lack of fear.

I’ve read that the vehicle that transports you to your final destination is started and kept running moments after you were born. One ever knows for sure when you will leave this world … unless it’s by your own hand. The black 1952 Cadillac Hearse that stopped in front of my house looked freshly washed and polished. Death was expecting me. I saw the driver’s door open. Moments later, a rotting figure under a dark hood began to lurch toward my doorstep … fleshless bones moving black robes like curtains. Fear, like a barrel filled with ice-water poured over one’s head, began to drown me.

-------2-------

I was a child looking for a place to hide. The closet would have to be cleaned before I could slip inside. There was no place. I heard a loud knock on the front door. The heating vents were insanely too small … and still I was tempted. The knock became a pounding. Inside the oven? Too many stories of witches! I’d die of fright … before the flame was lit.

I finally did what all children do when faced with an uncertain punishment. I hid under the bed.

The pounding was much louder. I heard the wood begin to splinter then a horrible crash … and Death was inside my home.

-------3-------

It was so quiet, my breath was as a roaring wind. Each time I stilled my lungs … the thumping of my heart made the floor tremble. I could hear the long hands of the hallway clock clicking off the seconds as Death started up the stairs. I could hear every boney toe on every wooden riser. The scraping of untrimmed nails on polished wood … and a tearing sound as they snagged carpet. My heart was now a frantic drum … ever louder … ever faster. Death was ever closer.

Like a roaring engine without oil, my heart began to shake and knock violently just as my bedroom door opened. The pounding was intolerable and my heart seized up completely as the creature crossed my room, crouched … and then peered under the bed. The eyes that looked upon me were volcanic stones from the unbroken plains of Damascus … far past the beginning of time. And I was taken.

-------4-------

I rode in the back seat. There was no coffin; none was needed. Those are earthly things … and we were beyond. The windows were tinted black but I could see the small house where I lived as a child when we rolled past. A small mound of gravel perhaps to cover a septic entrance was a place in memory without worries … standing atop the stones and shouting my joy to the world.

My first school rolled past the darkened window. Visions of being the last child picked for baseball teams and a debilitating shyness that kept me on the swings … always alone.

-------5-------

My unwelcome driver sped past my high school where I first discovered so many things … fleeting moments of pleasure … and the ever present agony … of first love lost. The hearse darted down an alley and I saw the rickety stairs leading to an upstairs apartment where my wife fell with my first born still inside her. And on we went, my life rolling past in fine detail as the darkness continued to grow.

My ride sped up as we traveled the more than sixty miles I drove daily for work in my happiest time. Every stone, post and blade of grass … a memory.

“There is music,” the driver said. “If you desire.”

The tabletop jukebox was hidden behind a door in the seat-back. I wasn’t really surprised when there were only two choices: Stairway to Heaven by Led Zepplin and Highway to Hell by ACDC. I didn’t have a dime and asked the driver for one. He laughed. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “You made your choice … a long time ago.”

-------6-------

            We were cresting a high hill and even in the dim light I could see the highway dividing below us. One road twisted and turned as it descended into a fiery chasm. The other stopped before a staircase slowly turning … as it disappeared into the clouds.

I begged Death to stop.

            “Are you sure?” he said. “Why not sit back … and enjoy the ride?”

            “Please … forgive me,” I prayed.

-------7-------

            I don’t remember stopping … only the endless stairs … and the growing light that slowly pushed back the dark. With each step I felt lighter as I stopped, grasped another memory, and then gave it to the mist. The dark was far below and the brightness into which I ascended was slowly becoming like the sun … and then beyond. There was an eternity for reflection and I used it … to forget.

I was finally free of all memories dim, dear and distant and I wanted to shout! But I didn’t know how! Everything was once again new. I had been holding my breath … submerged in my mother’s love … and I gasped when the light broke. There was cold and pain … but also hope.

Three smiling faces looked down upon me …and I began to cry.

THE END ???