Talking to Death

by Kristina Cossa

“Can I ask you something?” Ashyla asked. This was probably her worst idea ever, but Ashyla didn’t care; she had already walked right up to Death, who was sitting in a chair with his black robe and skeleton-like features. His demeanor changed, and he gripped tightly onto his scythe. Ashyla gulped but asked her question.

“What do you remember?” Silence followed after that, dead silence, ironically, as Death was shocked.

His red eyes faded away, leaving a look more human-like, and Ashyla asked her question again. “You should never ask me that,” he said. “I’m old, Ashyla, very old, so my memories are endless.”

“You know me?” she asked, blinking, but quickly laughed to hide her surprise. “Right, you know everything. You’re Death,” she continued. “Well, how old are you?” she asked.

“As old as the universe. Most likely older, for in order for there to be light there must be shadow,” he answered. Ashyla watched him slick his ‘hair’ back, despite not having any hair on his head, and she tilted her head. “You asked what I remembered for a reason. You are in grief?” Ashyla sank deeper into her skin. His tone was so cold it was like being stuck in a freezer. She was here because of grief, mostly, but there was another reason she had sought out Death.

“My grandfather lived a long life, but I’m not here to ask for him back. I know I can’t do that,” Ashyla responded. “I’ve seen how that can have consequences, so I came to ask you what you remembered.”

“Why?” Death asked.

“I’m interested in learning about the oldest horseman and what he knows,” Ashyla responded.

“Maybe I want some of that knowledge for myself,” Death’s red eyes returned, but Ashyla didn't flinch. She decided to spill her own little secret. Her eyes flashed a bright blue, and Death recognized her as a fallen angel.

“You shouldn't have come back, Azrael,” Death responded. She smiled and gently stroked the scythe Death had nearby before whispering in his ear.

“I get bored, brother.”

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