Madame Death

Madame Death wandered a war torn battle field. Granting death to those whose time had come.

A soldier lay dying in the field. A bullet had pierced him, close to his heart.

He was waiting for death to take him.

Madame Death came across the dying soldier.

She lifted a finger to claim him, but something stayed her hand. For some reason, she couldn’t end him.

Perplexed, she made his eyes see her. The soldier’s gaze went wide. He knew it was death.

Who are you?

A man.

Yes, but who are you?

Just a man.

Do you not fear me?

No.

Why not?

I have lived a good life.

How so?

Madame Death never knew a person’s life. Her job was to separate spirit from body. Nothing more.

I loved deeply, learned greatly, and fought bravely.

Do you have a family?

No.

Your parents?

Dead.

Siblings?

I am an only child.

Her questions and his answers only perplexed her more.

Madame Death was anxious to know who he was. For in all of time, nothing had stopped her.

Do you want to live?

I care not.

He coughed up blood and fought for every breath. Death could not remove his pain.

Madame Death watched as the soldier suffered. Her eyes had seen the horrors of life, but it hurt her to see him suffer.

If I let you live, what will you do?

I don’t know.

Return to your home?

It’s gone.

You can start your own family.

My family is here.

Don’t you want to create a legacy? Build up your family name?

My family is here.

Here, your family is dead.

Then let me join them.

No.

The word escaped her.

No?

No.

Why not let me die?

You say you have loved deeply, but you have not. You know nothing of love.

What do you know of love?

More than you.

You are death. You end love.

I end lies.

He had to lay back. The pain was overwhelming.

End me.

She stretched out her hand. Telling herself that taking him was a mercy. But still, she couldn’t.

I don’t want to.

What do you mean, “You don’t want to?”

I want you to live.

Live my life as a crippled, broken man?

But you’d be living.

I’d rather face death.

You are.

He didn’t know what to make of it. Death stood before him, her hand outstretched to take him, but she wouldn’t.

It is not your place to keep me here.

She didn’t know what to say. She wanted him to live.

I want death.

She turned her back on him as he spat out more blood.

Do not leave me here to rot!

She couldn’t face him.

Why must I live? Why not one of the others? They had families, friends, and homes to return to! Why keep me here?

She took a step away from him. Her heart swirling with emotion.

Emotion? Heart? She was a spirit. A chosen soul to end life. She didn’t have a heart or feel anything for mortals. Yet, here she was.

She glanced back to the soldier. And then it dawned on her.

You.

His frustrated and pain ridden eyes had not left her.

If I let you die, you must promise me something.

I promise.

You haven’t heard it yet.

What then?

You must remain with me.

What? What do you mean?

You must reap death with me.

I don’t understand.

I either leave you here to live, or you come and be with me.

He watched her. Blood slipping through his wound as he held it.

Why?

Because I feel something for you.

He couldn’t understand what that meant to her.

And I am curious to see what that something is.

At those words, he did his best to sit up. He met her gaze and held it.

Okay.

The soldier laid back and looked up at the clouds. Noticing how expressive they were.

Funny.