The great God has appointed Death to task, upon His Exercise a mask equipped for spoils that only fear himself. Slowly approaches the depths of the world, Nature cowers, Her chest tightens. All light perished, soon His command given. Treads lightly as all roses with every stem soon buckle and the strength sapped to serve Death’s alack. Brings resole further as he travels round the world where that lady in waiting lay in wait with the last few moments in the longest breaths she can inject into herself. Looks round her, as buried her youngest on her bosom; a cry that descends into weeping, frantic for a man to hear as her husband adjourned all feelings bottled and only blames his God for all. But too does Death know all this and cried for so long in eternity that God had ripped his glands from his eyes lest his tears extinguish those fires of hell and seal the injury that God hath made.

Pale was she whose face slowly as white did in turn boil the ice. Bloodied was she who stirred and finally succumbs to a bed of roses burnt in the ashes to turn brown then reciprocate her embrace with water that feeds the remains. How much for suffering to wait if not for end; shall emboss the skin what pain felt not the slightest rub once be paler as pressed his hand did husband he never shook the foundations of her water broken, creases her skin and soon fares to the sanctum. Darkness saw them both; no water to cleanse the blood; no light nor heat; no way to see but a candle for her eyes so delicate be feign fair and so only true source of heat be thine.

As He approaches, all suddenly remain. Darkness becomes darker; paler becomes paler; white becomes a blinding light that shocks all colours from Nature’s reserve; and with what dialogue unearthed dug the tender words between Death and the Maiden now laying in the steep in sorrow for her suffering to cease. Her children clinging still to her hands, but no more. Only Death requests for death, not for Life, for that is the duty of Happiness. Where no Happiness is left, surely we are already dead. Releases herself as with every paining step did more screams that crawl through her skin did conjure the tears behind. With only a passing torch held by Death’s bony hands guided his mistress into the foray of the next. Joins her peers at the hands where she longs to have sought herself. To watch over her family and guide them in the light where there was none.

Her final farewell, and soon she beckons the silence in the darkness that surrounds herself alone; once she looks back there was already no one there but shadows once known.

Category:
Love, Prose, Realism, Works
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