Death

Tender sun gathered the remaining strands of its golden light. It smiled sullenly at the skies, leaving with a promise to return at dawn. Warmth followed, making way for a cold evening of 20th April 1889.

Beyond the hills, not far away, a pair of dark eyes glared from beneath a cloak. The glare was fiery, carrying a deep sense of resolve. But those eyes lacked feeling. As if their possessor was devoid of a soul. The cloak fluttered lightly as the breeze slyly tried to uncover the wearer. But in vain. With a grunt of exasperation the wearer began to walk. Kicking a cloud of dust into twilight sky the figure disappeared behind it.

A sterile odour filled the dim, noiseless hospital corridor. There was hardly anyone to be seen apart from an occasional appearance of a nurse or a ward boy. An air of gloom seemed to have permanently occupied every inch of the structure. But tonight, an unusual sense of melancholy drifted through one of the rooms. Within the room a mother lay in bed staring at the departing Sun while her husband stood by the window gazing at he orange skies. After having lost three of her children she had finally birthed a son who was weak and almost fighting for a chance at life. It was less likely that the child would survive but a mother’s heart would not resign to such ill fate. So she closed her eyes and sent out a silent prayer. On the other hand her husband had made it clear that he was not going to fight their fate. He would let the child go, if it meant less suffering in the long run.

Night wrapped the world in its arms watching the person clad in black cloak approach the hospital. A strange chill filled the air and with every step the figure took it sent the birds into a state of frenzy. Unfazed by the frantic birds, those callous eyes observed the hospital, their focus unchanging.

A soft whimper emanated from the hospital observation room. A newborn lay in a glass cubicle, fighting for survival. The nurse on duty threw a concerned glance at it and then left the room. As she disappeared into the dark passageway, the cloak clad figure glided in. The unnerving sound of their low, yet deep breathing filled the space. Entering the observation room, the narrow eyes looked around for a moment, searching for something. But the search did not take too long, as the eyes rested on the glass cubicle. In that moment something changed in those eyes. They appeared less fearsome and more weary.

Parting their cloak, the figure revealed a pair of surprisingly beautiful hands that were almost translucent, glowing like the moon on a cloudless night. Sliding the cubicle lid open, they carefully lifted the fragile baby close to their shrouded face. Watching the little one squirm and whimper they let out a sigh of exasperation. Then holding the baby in a stiffer grip they spoke in a voice that could stop the bravest of hearts. The voice came like an echo from the depths of netherworld intertwining a low growl with concurrent tones of masculine and feminine, “Aah. I am tired. I am tired of this now. I have been asked to take you away tonight. But look at how insignificant you are. I had to come all the way…All the way for You?” A laugh escaped the cloak-clad figure, “What a dreary day it has been and just when I thought I was done, I had to come for you. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not a difficult task for me. But tonight, I don’t feel the usual fervor. Do you know that I have given so many years and so much of my time to this job? But there are days when I don’t feel zealous enough. And then when I see an irrelevant thing like you, I just lose the thrill. Oh it’s not about the strength. I have the strength to carry you. It’s just one of those days when motivation fails you.”

The newborn boy whimpered again, as if he were responding. The cloaked figure stared at the baby, still void of emotion whispering again, “But I must do my job of taking you away, for you do not belong here.”

The hands held the boy close, readying to wrap him in the cloak. Just then all of a sudden the boy smiled. The merciless eyes looked at him from beneath the cloak taken aback as the baby’s frail lips stretched further, almost into a laugh. The fierce eyes stared for an instant and then unexpectedly placed the baby back in the glass box. The figure stepped back, whispering to the boy, “Maybe I won’t take you tonight. You seem pretty inconsequential to exhaust myself over.” The figure turned to leave but halted for a short moment and turning over the shoulder hissed, “Something about your smile…Why did it feel like I saw myself there for a second?” So saying, the figure walked away, carrying with it gloom laden air.

When the nurse returned, she saw the colour return on the boy’s face. She studied him carefully and then rushed out to ask his parents to hold onto their hopes. In all likelihood the boy was going to survive.

On a cold winter’s evening of 1941, a pair of dark eyes glared from beneath a cloak. The eyes reviewed a sea of dead bodies covering the Auschwitz grounds. Helplessly disrobed dead bodies lay, imploring to return them their modesty. As the figure tried to decipher a convenient way to carry the endless number of corpses, it whispered, “Oh what a fool I was. Had I carried the little one that night, I would have saved myself the trouble of taking with me thousands more. The lethargy of one night and one little soul has cost me years of work and thousands of them. I do not know how much longer this will go on, but for now I shall not make the mistake of leaving behind anyone on account of my laziness. As for him, the ADOLF boy, I shall have to wait for the right time now before I receive orders to carry him away.”

Exhausted, a cloak clad DEATH stirred its black stallion forward.