All Longing for Death


IN AN empty room, there laid a girl whose heart beat slowly. She was all skin and bone, and her face was a painting of emaciation. She waited for Death to come, and excitement flooded her when the air inside the room turned ice-cold. This was the fifth time he had visited her, and he did not look pleased.

Death stared at her and immediately knew what she was up to. Despite the girl’s devastating condition, she still managed to smile. “Are you finally going to take me out on that date?” she asked.

“Please stop. We cannot be together in this way,” Death replied. He slowly walked toward the bed and sat beside her, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Her hands shook as she recalled everything she had to go through in order to meet him. She knew the rules: she cannot die unless it was her time, but she was going insane. Death was her only hope to finally be free.

“Take me with you,” the girl said, her voice suddenly serious. With a crazed look in her eyes, she grabbed Death’s face and pulled him closer. Death panicked, knowing what she was about to do, but it was too late. Against his will, Death swallowed her soul as her lips brushed against his.

Like a wilting flower, her body fell lifeless in his arms. F ISABELL ANDREA M. PINE

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