Death's Life

by B Latif

  The sparkle in her eyes vanished, replaced by a flicker, and a flicker doesn’t come unless there is something burning inside. That was the flicker of unshed tears she always had.

  Henry’s love had brought tears to her eyes and I hated Henry. He forgot his vows. It was becoming complicated. Sometimes, I felt it wasn’t his fault either, after all, he had tried his best.

  One thing that happened, after my last visit was that Rose started hating roses.

  And worse, she never wore red again.

  Chapter 16

  OBSERVATION No 34:

  Man finds sin in freedom and the Lord in loneliness.

  Humans want to be liberal, but they forget too much of a good thing becomes a bad thing. Rose had found the Lord in loneliness, and now she was finding sin in the freedom of the human world.

  Lying was just the beginning. Backbiting came next, envy entered her heart and many other sins. It was like the contamination of pure water.

  And what was more, she didn’t realize. One day in the bedroom, Henry was looking for his shoes, while Rose was in the kitchen. He searched the closet, then the drawers and under the bed.

  When he stood, there was a magnificently carved wooden box in his hand. Neither large nor small, but he was certain he had never seen it before. Sitting on the bed, he began to open it. But before he could, Rose came in. When she saw the box in his hands, she rushed over to him and took it from him.

  “Rose, what is this?”

  “Err… my box,” she said evasively.

  “What’s inside?” he sounded curious.

  “Well… some old stuff.”

  “Useless things? Throw it away then.”

  “No, no,” she put the box under the bed again, “forget it, Henry.”

  She was about to leave but then she turned back hesitantly, “Henry?”

  “Yeah?” he was only wearing his socks.

  “I was… thinking… where is your bow?”

  He halted, then pulled up his sock and eyed her suspiciously.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You… err… I thought… umm. I thought we should g-go sometime to the forest and camp… or something.”

  He smiled then went to her and held her shoulders.

  “You miss Henry, the old Henry, right?”

  “What do you mean?” she looked alarmed.

  “You know, the one with the quiver on his back, a bow in hand, knee-high boots, dirty clothes, messed-up hair. That Henry. You miss him, I can see it in your eyes and they tell the truth.”

  “Oh,” she licked her lips, relieved, “yes, I do. I do miss that Henry.”

  He embraced her in his arms and rubbed her back, “I miss him too, Rose. But he can’t come back now. Not here. The time has changed.”

  Breaking apart, he held her upper arms, “Look at you. You have also changed. We should move on and never look back.”

  Kissing her forehead, he left.

  I could clearly see by the expression on her face the reason for her going back into the forest. It wasn’t him.

  It was me.

  ***

  After decades and decades and decades, I felt useless. No purpose, no goal.

  Wrong.

  Many purposes, many goals.

  But just failure.

  And I screamed in the darkness. Wasn’t it eating me up? Was the darkness outside or was it inside?

  Why didn’t the Lord listen to me? What had I done to deserve this? Why didn’t he answer my prayer?

  I can get it that humans ask the Lord for many things. That’s why He listens to some and grants them what they ask for. But I had asked Him for only one thing, and he hadn’t granted it to me.

  I could doubt Him. All his creations.

  Everything from the beginning to the end, but I didn’t. I believe in miracles and they aren’t explained by the laws of nature.

  A miracle is defined as a happening of a remarkable event. Miracles are not explicable by natural or scientific laws and therefore attributed to a divine agency

  Beginning from the bitch… hope.

  ***

  I was following Henry on the road.

  He seemed unwell, the way he was walking listlessly. He was going to work, early one winter morning, wearing a long overcoat because of the chilling effect from the wind and low temperature.

  I didn’t know why I was following him, but I was. I was surprised.

  He coughed as a gust of cold wind slapped his cheeks, making his scarf loosen from his around his neck. Following his footsteps on snow, I looked back; I had no footsteps. I smiled, sometimes it pleases me to see such things. Marks of nonexistence.

  For a moment, he stopped, and drew in heavy breaths. Then he put on his mittens quickly, as the snow began to fall again, puffy and soft.

  I wore the hood of my white velvet robe, focusing my glacial blue eyes on him. He was walking again but fast this time.

  This part of the road was lonely, and I wondered where all the humans were. Sleeping early morning or off to work.

  After some wailing, Henry stopped again. He didn’t move this time. I didn’t know why because his back was toward me.

  A sudden fear crawled in my mind, was he feeling my presence?

  I halted, expecting him to turn around at any moment. But instead, I heard a moan, and he dropped his bag, clutching his abdomen.

  I stared at him with a frown. Then he started coughing, harder with every second.

  Must be the cold, I thought. Many humans caught cold in the winter. He would be okay in a minute. But he never became okay, he kept coughing, and was crouched now.

  Slowly, I stepped toward him with a crease between eyebrows. Walking carefully, as if he would hear my footsteps.

  The sound of him coughing echoed in my ears. A part of me didn’t want to walk towards him or look him in his face, but curiosity destroys everything.

  He was so close, I wanted to put my hand on his shoulder and turn him around. I stepped in front of him.

  He had closed his eyes and was coughing without… without knowing… that… the snow…

  The snow… had turned red.

  ***

  No, no, no… it couldn’t be possible.

  I continued to deny the state Henry was in. If there was one thing in the world I didn’t want to believe, it was that Henry Cavills was dying.

  I followed him again, this time, he was staggering toward the hospital. His eyes stern and panic on his face.

  I watched as he stopped and coughed on his palm. Drops of blood again. he wiped them on the tissue paper quickly and continued his gait.

  The hospital wasn’t crowded. I had been to the hospital countless times, to take lives. I just hoped it wouldn’t be Henry’s here. I remember how he had rushed to the hospital and explained his suffering to the doctor.

  I won’t mention the details, but the doctor prescribed medicine for him and said they needed to run some tests. He had to wait several days for the test results.

  He went home.

  I went home too.

  I don’t know if he told Rose about it or not, but I didn’t want to see him anymore. A part of me wanted him to die, but the other part wanted him to stay alive. I guess the first part had to do with motherhood. Maybe if he died, Rose would come back.

  Of course! If he died, Rose would come back to me. I was so convinced about my theory that I almost began to feel happy and prayed for his death.

  In fact, I wanted to go and take his soul, but that would make me a killer and it was also against my rules.

  I wasn’t depressed for him anymore. But it was possible if his test results were positive. I could hardly wait for the sun to sleep and rise again.

  The next day, I followed Henry again. He collected his reports from the laboratory and without opening the envelope, he went to the doctor.

  My joy was enormous as the doctor gave him a terrible news.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Cavills,” he told Henry, scratching his bald head. Th
en he put on his glasses, “You are sick, you have cancer.”

  Henry sat still like a statue, hardly breathing.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll give you medications….”

  I went home, but I didn’t follow him this time. I didn’t want to see him giving this news to Rose or see her mourning. I just thought about the soon coming family reunion.

  ***

  I spent my days staying busy with my job or fantasizing about Rose in the castle again. The roses will bloom. My Rose would also blossom once again. It would be like before and everything would be normal between us. It would be as if Henry had never come into her life and she had never married him.

  I knew he would die, but I didn’t know when. It could take years, or maybe just days, but I needed to be prepared for it.

  No, better not to be prepared.

  I smiled, whenever I got ready to say something, as it had always turned against me. But this time, I would be shrewd.

  I just needed patience.

  ***

  Eighteen days.

  After eighteen days, I was standing in the street that led to Henry’s home. I was happy, but not now, as nervousness had overwhelmed my happiness. I couldn’t feel the aloofness of the winter as a gale made the leaves dance at my arrival.

  On 30th December 1963, I marched toward the dark brown door, my shoes crushing the snow, my robes floating on it, making it smooth.

  My eyes were fixed on the door, I strutted toward it, trying to stay calm. Facing the door, I blinked without knocking. I knew my face wasn’t revealed as it was in the shadow of the hood, but this was the moment Henry would see me.

  I came before his time, just for a talk. It was rather a royal way, and quite mannered as well, in which I was coming to take his life.

  I had never knocked on a door to take someone’s life before, so I was nervous.

  Bad news… Henry was going to die.

  Good news… Rose would come back to me. I couldn’t stand outside forever, my white knuckles knocked on the door three times.

  No answer.

  They were preparing for the New Year celebration. I couldn’t even knock again. I lost my courage, but before I could hide, the door opened, and I was face to face with my daughter.

  She recognized me.

  I didn’t.

  The dress she wore was revealing her arms and legs, but it appeared that she didn’t care. Not anymore. Her hair was plaited, and her eyes had lost what little gleam they had.

  For a moment, we looked at each other. It seemed as if even the wind had gone silent. Not even a breeze was there to disturb us. It seemed as if all the sounds had disappeared from the world, even from my throat.

  Before she could slam the door in my face, I heard a voice, one that was soon going to vanish from the world.

  Henry’s voice.

  “Rose, who is at the door?”

  Without unlocking her eyes from mine, I heard a cold tone coming from her mouth, “No one. Some child probably rang the bell and ran away.”

  Lies.

  OBSERVATION No. 35

  The best weapon a human uses to protect himself is a lie.

  Even though she told him a lie, she just couldn’t slam the door in her mother’s face. The most surprising thing was, there was no fear in her eyes, and that encouraged me to stand there and face her.

  “Rose? Rose?”

  She didn’t respond. It seemed as if only two people were on this small planet, Rose and me. One alive, one dead.

  “Rose!”

  Perhaps she was keeping the door open because she knew Henry couldn’t see me and assumed he wouldn’t be able to see me now either. How unfortunate.

  “Rose! Rose… who is it?”

  Finally, I turned my gaze toward Henry. I presumed Rose still believed he couldn’t see me because she didn’t reply.

  I asked humbly, “May I come in?”

  The question was directed at Henry. Rose didn’t move aside from the door.

  “Rose, who is it?” He walked towards her and looked at her expression, “Do you know her?”

  Henry looked tired and fatigued. His complexion had changed, and he wasn’t handsome anymore. Dying makes a human look pathetic.

  The snow was falling heavily now, and I knew it would be deep on the road after a while. But I didn’t force my way inside. Sooner or later, I would be in the house.

  “Do you know her, Rose?” Henry repeated.

  Finally, when he shook her, she awoke from her thoughts and blinked.

  “You can… see her?”

  Henry frowned, probably doubting his wife’s state of mind.

  “Of course, why shouldn’t I be able to see her?”

  Still staring at the uninvited guest, Rose said in a haunted whisper, “She is my mother.”

  Silence reigned the world.

  “She is your… mother?” Henry looked at me.

  What an awkward moment it was to be introduced like this to a person when I was the Grim Reaper.

  I guessed Rose would let me in, and Henry was so stunned, I suppose he didn’t know what to do.

  I drew my hood back. I was looking young and beautiful. He hadn’t expected me to be that young. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Rose was still staring at me, and I looked the same to her.

  There was a gust of wind and I spoke, “It’s cold.”

  “Oh,” Henry raised his eyebrows and moved away from the door, “please… uh… come in.”

  I knew Rose wouldn’t take her gaze off me, it was better to converse with Henry,

  I stepped inside, smiling kindly, “Thank you, Mr. Cavills.”

  I suppose it astonished him more that I knew his name too. I heard the click of the door. I knew Rose had many questions, but I needed her to compose herself.

  “Have a seat, Miss...”

  No name. I took a chair at the table and sat down without taking off my robe.

  “Lovely house,” I said without even giving it a look.

  “Thank you,” he replied, still standing, “Umm… it’s just for the New Year celebrations.”

  Hesitation and confusion, I could almost feel the two things inside me. I waited for questions, but nothing came. Just uncomfortable staring and then silence.

  I smiled at Rose, “What a beautiful young woman you have become.”

  “I didn’t expect Rose’s mother to be so… young.”

  I smiled, turning my gaze to Henry. I knew my reply had a tinge of sarcasm in it, but I said it anyway, “I suppose you didn’t even expect that Rose had a mother.”

  “Well…”

  Nothing.

  “Well…”

  Nothing still.

  “Well… I err…” a pause, “you never visited us before.”

  I had the confidence to answer every question. I didn’t know where it came from, but I could feel it.

  “Oh, no, Mr. Cavills,” I said boldly, “I’m afraid you’re wrong.”

  He looked puzzled. I tapped my fingertips on the table rhythmically.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, this isn’t my first visit here,” I was enjoying the look on his face, “I was even generous enough to bring flowers.”

  I could have laughed as his eyes widened. He must be remembering the roses I had left by the doorstep.

  “I’m sure Rose knows I came here often, don’t you, Rose?”

  I cast my eyes at her. she was still standing by the door, looking at me with fury in her eyes. Resistance.

  I didn’t say anything. I wanted her to speak now.

  “She did tell…”

  “Shush,” I silenced Henry with a gesture of my finger. He was already intimidated by me. I looked at Rose. He didn’t speak, knowing how intense the moment was.

  “Yes, Mama,” I didn’t like the way she called me Mama now. It was so empty of everything, “and I remember your last letter very well. You are going to die.”

  “Ah… but you don’t remember it very
well dear,” I told her and paused, “It was only a piece of advice.”

  “Does that even matter?” she snapped.

  I leaned back in the chair, remembering how Aisha was and how different her daughter was.

  “Of course, it does. It’s just about the way you perceive words.”

  She folded her arms across her chest, “Well, I perceived them as a threat.”

  “Good Lord!” I laughed slightly, “Why would a mother threaten her child?”

  She didn’t move, “Exactly. Why would you, Mama?”

  I sighed. There was no time to convince her. I would tell her everything when she came back and that would be when Henry died.

  “Would you mind making dinner?” I asked her, changing the topic.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “I’m staying here for a while. You can ask me afterwards.”

  “But…”

  “Rose,” Henry interrupted, “I think you should go and make dinner. Your mother will be staying for the night, I assume.”

  I don’t know why he was so desperate for her to leave and happy to see me. I hadn’t even expected him to allow me inside the house.

  Without saying anything, Rose left us. It was good for her to go. I had to take Henry’s life and it wouldn’t be appropriate to take it in front of her.

  ‘Have a seat, Mr. Cavills.”

  Henry sat on the chair in front of me. I knew he would start asking me questions, and I was ready to answer all of them now. But what he said confused me.

  “I’m so glad you are here.”

  Whoa! I was so surprised that I couldn’t answer, and my jaw dropped for a second. My eyes focused on him. Regaining my confidence, I crossed my legs, “Well, I know you have many questions. I want you to ask me as many as you wish. And I’ll answer because you won’t see me again.”

  “Oh, no, no, no!” he leaned forward in his chair, “But you have to stay!”

  Poor man. How could I tell him it wasn’t me who was leaving, it was him?

  “Why should I?” I put my forefinger on my lips, thumb under my chin, attempting to control my smile.