A Chat with Death

Foreward:
This was written almost a year ago, during the darkest year of my life. I used writing as a way to escape reality and express my emotions. My family came way to close to death before I wrote this. This story is very important to me. Support is welcomed. Please follow my account for more short stories. Thank you. I now present to you: A Chat with Death.

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A Chat with Death - Wretten by D.C. King
Sean was lying in a field of pale grass.

He sat up, confused of the suddenness of the scenery. How was he suddenly just... here? He looked down at his hands, which were lying at his side. His fingers seemed to flutter like the tall foliage that surrounded him, almost like vapor. ''I'm dreaming. ''He realized and calmed down. He must have fallen asleep in the car. He was in the passenger seat, his dad was in the driver seat, he could remember.

He stood up, studying what he saw. Rolling hills of rye had never been so ironically true, as what he saw was hills of pale-yellow grass up to his waist. All the way out to where the horizon met the clear blue sky, the warm sun hanging high. He turned around to examine the other side. Besides the prairie, he saw an old log cabin with a plume of smoke exiting a chimney, excitingly vibrant brown wood contrasting the harmonious, calm grass. Seeing nowhere else for him to go, Sean began walking in the general direction of the house.

The plants scrapped past him as he walked through it, occasionally snagging on his denim pants and dark olive shirt. As the cabin grew closer into view, Sean could spot a musty window and a door with a shiny brass handle. It was walnut wood, he guessed, maybe oak. When he got to the door of the cabin, he knocked on it.

Clk clk clk.

No answer.

He reached down and grabbed the brass handle, heated by the sunlight, and twisted it open, letting the door open loosely. He peered inside.

A neat table was stationed in the center of the room, a cup of what looked like coffee or hot cocoa in front of one chair. Another chair was across from it. Both plain wood, along with the table; wood. A rug covered the bottom of the room, a deep maroon. On the other end of the room was a fireplace, a fire cracking atop wood, somehow undamaged by the flame. At this point, Sean was beginning to notice that wood was a reoccurring thing in this dream.

He walked into the room and sat in the seat with the drink, closing the door behind him. A beam of sunlight reached from the window and landed promptly on the wooden table, illuminating it. He picked up the cup and took a sip of it. The taste of warm chocolate flooded over his tongue and soothed his body. Hot chocolate; it was definitely hot chocolate.

It was a fairly relaxing dream so far; cozy little cabin, hot chocolate, warm fireplace. All that was needed was some slow music.

A record player began playing on the table, like it had always been there before, playing what sounded like a piece by Debussy or Chopin. Ah, he thought, It's one of those dreams. It was one of the dreams where you could imagine anything, and poof, there it is.

He sat there for a moment, taking in the peace and quiet that he was experiencing. The familiar feeling of Zen began to settle on him like a blanket, soft and comfortable. This hue of gentleness lingered fresh still. The fire in the fireplace cracked softly. Sean's unfinished cup of chocolate steamed in the sunbeam.

His mind began shifting from focusing on the cabin to drifting into thoughts of the past day. He had left his home to go to a family reunion in Idaho. He couldn't even remember the name of the city. The get-together was in an outdoor park, with barbeques and sweets, trees and lakes, children and seniors. His father had driven him there. It was the first time in years that was able to see his mother. He was specifically fond of his grandpa. The old man's hair and chin must've swapped, as every time he was him, he would have a wiry white beard, like a wizard. After the evening, his dad had began driving him back to their home in Montana. Sean had remembered asking to go back, but being shot down with, "We wouldn't be able to find a place to stay," and besides, they weren't ready for a night away from home.

Clk clk clk.

Someone had just knocked on the door.

Sean jumped up and out of his seat and trotted towards the door. As he reached down and opened the door, the dream seemed to go from shifts of grass and vapor to violent thrashes of lightning and angry ocean waves.

<p data-p-id="b3700e6b7bdb5984c201ee46cf0a5ac7">Paul McCartney was standing there. And the first the he said was so out of the blue, Sean would've thought he had just about lost his mind: "Before you get excited, I am not Paul McCartney."

<p data-p-id="4a951886521a3bbf8b492670660fd3c2">"B- But you're standing right there," Sean said, stuttering.

<p data-p-id="94d663ad1cc7b7f00dfe55f9e6cf3b34">"I come in the form of who ever you like the most. It seams you like the Beatles, eh?"

<p data-p-id="e93218786e16000c3ddd0d4af73614f9">"--Yeah," Sean said slowly.

<p data-p-id="84bdf293ce66d16fc865cb9da5692347">"Can I come in? I would like to talk to you." Paul said.

<p data-p-id="106fa304b4522963e1e754732a9533ae">"Of course," Sean said, opening the door wider and stepping aside, letting the old man walk in. Even though he had just said that he wasn't Paul McCartney, he had gone from relaxation, almost meditation, to the excitement someone would get when seeing one of their favorite people in existence.

<p data-p-id="8e3f26f6525b5b5b5a75800453874d43">Paul sat down in the seat across from Sean's with a sigh, like he was bored. He followed close behind, sitting in his own chair. "Refreshments?" he asked.

<p data-p-id="295deb497d291a1a2b40d1548bb7c313">"Water," Paul said plainly. "Plain water."

<p data-p-id="0e928b44e983c54d76ec73cb7730cfa0">Sean thought about water. A glass of that clear liquid. Nothing special or unique. Just a glass of cool water. And there was a glass in front of Paul, who reached down and took a gulp of. Setting it down, Paul began:

<p data-p-id="e44bef6becf37a00c2549179be826807">"I have come here for a reason," He announced, "And no, I didn't come here for a glass of dream water. I have a message."

<p data-p-id="d70deb1cfa8fdeae76f7531bdca21f2d">"You said you weren't Paul McCartney," Sean recited.

<p data-p-id="9f49ddf8e3ada10d9ac31f9f123985df">"Yes," Paul said, "And?"

<p data-p-id="3b46bf42c423b1c25a7d3270df481f74">"Who are you then, if you're not who you clearly look to be?" Sean questioned.

<p data-p-id="ef13cb34be9033410f9b36190a8df132">"As I said before, I am what your mind wants to see. I could be anything I want you to see, but it would have the same effect." Paul explained.

<p data-p-id="70d0df99fea02f28ed6e0b51e0ef0abc">"So, you're saying you can change your appearance? Like a shapeshifter?" asked, looking at Paul. And suddenly, the mas sitting in front of him wavered and shifted, like ash being blown around, and a different man was sitting there. A man in a business suit and short black hair.

<p data-p-id="2ee284c108ccdbaa828627a74940a241">"Yes, I suppose it does. But that's not why I'm here either." He shifted back into the old Paul McCartney again.

<p data-p-id="69527ee428137baace8e02e60939c8c3">"You didn't answer my question, though," Sean stated. "Who are you?"

<p data-p-id="529f18ffa7b798151baf9e497b61ac6e">Paul sighed. "I usually scare people when I tell them who I am."

<p data-p-id="ab0fe3cbfde7fef11512ef9ea36a8ad1">"Please?"

<p data-p-id="83ef88d8aa6d130f550c1253741a4563">He sighed again. "Fine. I am, what you may call, Death."

<p data-p-id="ba74ee3832dd7d55120fbe22135ec30a">Sean sat there, for a moment, looking at the old man. He took a sip from his hot cocoa. "What do you mean 'Death'?"

<p data-p-id="17f5c0018400b0c8d3dc63a8ea82adc8">"I mean I am here to tell you that you are about to die," Paul said matter-of-factly, "and there isn't a thing you can do about it."

<p data-p-id="edc3d0da1ed5773fe9b913e696667ba0">Sean took a moment to think. "So, like, I'm about to die in this dream?"

<p data-p-id="6f647cad1622cc7a0a5f4eabb5299baf">"No, you're about to run into a car on the highway at 80 miles per hour, fly out the front window because you're sleeping with your seat belt off, and die."

<p data-p-id="39119e42c69e787737d2c78fa94e256c">Now Sean was beginning to worry. No one in his dreams were usually like this before. The people in his dreams were his own imagination, he could tell. This was an actual person, actually talking to him about him actually dying. But this was still just a dream; This wasn't real.

<p data-p-id="95b78f8dfa033fe30d0b933b39b4f0ba">Paul must've seen the look on his face, as he said: "Do I need to show you? Do I really have to show you?"

<p data-p-id="bda7fd287d7d17fad414702b1ed2d58d">"Even if you do, I doubt I'll believe you," Sean said. But not understanding the question fully, he asked: "What do you mean, you're going to show me?"

<p data-p-id="d4024c171b60262e1c28300ec6cd8b92">"I mean like this." Paul said, and snapped his fingers.

<p data-p-id="7a3762f60db61bdd18e426f3a769d7be">Like he had been sitting there the whole time before, Sean was now sitting in the car seat, where he had fallen asleep. Out the windows, he could see the that it was nighttime. He was on the highway. He sat up more. He looked over to the driver seat. Instead of seeing his father with the hands on the wheel, (as he had expected to see), he saw Paul. Paul looked back at Sean and smiled. "You might want to buckle up."

<p data-p-id="1e99905ef65503b971a88728f920e20f">Before Sean knew what he had even meant, He was thrown forward with enough force to send him flying. Something the sound of a grenade cracked his ears. He felt his skin and clothes being shredded by the glass of the windshield. Air flew past him as he continued, thrown, until he felt the rocky surface of asphalt ramming into his skull.

<p data-p-id="e90594179c9da66b7d673b7f22982e20">He was lying on the rug in the cabin, Paul sitting in the chair like had been sitting there instead of the car, looking him with an apathetic stare. Sean jumped back up shakily, wobbling around of a brief moment.

<p data-p-id="7e43184b22a7803b82efe450b3a4d6e2">"Wh- What was-" He stuttered.

<p data-p-id="3d83797bb27ffb3605b72486b78ceebf">"What was that?" Paul finished for him. "That, my friend, was your death. Besides me being there, that is exactly what will happen to you when you wake up."

<p data-p-id="8d9bfe585316c0f2fc94d4507573d356">"Can't I stop it? Or survive it?" Sean pleaded.

<p data-p-id="dfee809631de0401cd131fb617310d51">"Nope," Paul said, bored.

<p data-p-id="5f29734b16d366b523562764120a41c0">"Then can't I stay asleep? If it means I stay alive-" Sean began.

<p data-p-id="f0256ecea993aaa459e28f5e535a2420">"You won't stay alive, Sean," Paul interjected, louder. "Have you ever heard of anyone rising from the dead?" Sean fell silent. "I thought so." He pulled out a small iron bell, holding it out in the sunlight flowing from the window. "When I ring this bell, you will wake up. You will wake up and die, like everyone has too one day.

<p data-p-id="254d15d7af43b53a51b252cbd95a62ae">Sean's first thought was: ''Get the bell. ''He had good reasoning for it, and he probably would have grabbed it, if it weren't for the fact that Paul McCartney was literally sitting across from him. He wouldn't take anything from such a man. And that was another thing: That wasn't exactly him. That was supposed to be the representation of Death itself. It was intimidating enough that he could not only change into whoever – and possibly whatever – it wanted to, but that it could also bring up nightmares of him dying at the snap of the finger.

<p data-p-id="13c091ae7e8383aefb9192303c30592c">But if it meant he would live – if Death really was telling the truth – then yes he would take it. He would take it and run. No, he could just change where he was. Poof.

<p data-p-id="03adbbd821a3b4e5721114ce07395813">"Why do you have to kill me?" Sean asked, keeping Death preoccupied.

<p data-p-id="240f7a5905427682841f4ebf296101cb">"You just gotta ask, don't you? Everyone's just gotta ask. Humans." Death scoffed. "Always asking why. Why this, why that. Here's my why: Why do you want to know?"

<p data-p-id="ce262d77491feb57a7654f2a39cfc73f">Sean froze for a moment. He had a point. There was no escaping death. Why did he have to know why death was a thing? He shrugged. "Just a thing humans do."

<p data-p-id="aa2866c849830a839284c58689ebf0a1">Death barked a single laugh. "Ha! 'Just a thing humans do.' You're one of the funnier people I've found today." He took another gulp from his glass of water, finishing it.

<p data-p-id="5ed0715f509323bce28f2924e70266f0">Sean had forgotten about his own beverage, the hot chocolate. He took a sip from his refreshment. They sat there like that for a while, enjoying the drinks, another blanket of Zen falling over Sean. Peaceful, until Death cleared his throat and sat up.

<p data-p-id="30c8f4ec48d38f4733387fd78c282d87">"Well. I better get this over with," He said, pulling out the bell.

<p data-p-id="7105931419f7108635a1675c5d67e9c8">Sean was on his feet and all to quickly, he dove for the bell, not even realizing this until he was laying sprawled out on the table, holding the ice-cold bell in his hands. He rolled off the table and darted out the door, pulling it shut behind him, He heard Deaths voice hollering, changing from the voice of the famous singer to a horrifying, almost growling-deep shriek.

<p data-p-id="53076bdba9fc909cbe8cc53cb62200c6">Sean shut his eyes and tried to think of a place to go, a place where he couldn't be found, as he sprinted at full speed through the grass. Isolated, dangerous, deserted. Deserted. ''The desert. ''He thought.

<p data-p-id="d254cf6e35e4b07ebdad7d919baa7077">And before he opened his eyes, the grass around him transformed into white sand dunes. From where he was running, he found himself flying off the top of a sand dune, crashing into the sand drift below and rolling down the side in a cloud of dust, until he finally landed at the foot of the dune, panting as he laid there. He opened his eyes after catching his breath, standing up.

<p data-p-id="2e2eb58b31293b8bb19a786f0eab52c6">Much like the fields, it was endless sand, dunes forever, to the horizon. A sun was at the very top of the sky, throwing its heat and light on the desert that surrounded him. There were no cabins. There were no people. He was alone.

<p data-p-id="55bab7e3da68d984e2a52782bf415ead">"People always think that works," Said a voice behind him.

<p data-p-id="14eacac7a8cec5ea616e3cddad036bb3">Sean twisted around, finding the man in the cabin behind him. He wasn't even sure what to can him anymore. Paul, Death, Thing. And how was he here? When he had thought of the most remote place he could think of to escape him?

<p data-p-id="1b262dd71d7588c037231a83e127e0a4">Sean began running again, thinking about another place he could go. Maybe he wasn't thinking hard enough. Maybe he could go somewhere people couldn't even survive.

<p data-p-id="2875c75baddfd30d0ea1370d3166b8d9">And just like that, he was floating in space. Clouds of purple and stars of blue and galaxies of red were speckled all around, like seashells on a beach. Where there wasn't a bright, glowing object, there was a black film, spanning all around, behind everything he saw.

<p data-p-id="e98848495379b9e8668128427865fd8a">"It's not going to work, Sean."

<p data-p-id="233edf3c529f73ec3b1c6e5742b1da8d">It was him again. This time, he didn't even think. His mind collapsed into a blind panic, thinking of so many places at once: An island, a volcano, a mountain, the moon, the bottom of the sea, the center of the earth. The dream around him began to swirl and tear and squish and push together like a giant tornado, all the images and panic and emotions merging into one stampede of dread and fear. He couldn't die, he couldn't die, he couldn't die, he couldn't die-

<p data-p-id="24eef315a81ad95e0e32d7bf3fc82071">The bell slipped out of his hand.

<p data-p-id="a596376a649b2ebd1ad4c8aea8129c47">The clouds of blur around him seemed to fall and drift like ash, coming to a complete stop, spilling out of the air and dissolving on a glossy black floor. By the time the dream-ash had fallen, and everything was still again, he had noticed that there were no walls where he was now: it was a void. No hills of grass, no drifts of sand, not even the beautiful dotted canvas of space. He was just standing in a void.

<p data-p-id="8a1b00531eda2b1b90e47fec4a6abaf7">In front of him wasn't a singer, though. It wasn't the old man that filled his childhood with joy. It was his childhood – It was him, but... younger. Much younger. Five, maybe six years old. A small little boy in a red plaid shirt and tiny blue jeans. He was holding the bell. ''It's Death. ''He thought

<p data-p-id="a85cee0e5a9f64a92e41c78ed54db037">"What's going to happen to me when I die?" Sean finally asked.

<p data-p-id="79e80499e876421a9efbc79360e4bb02">The boy sat there for a moment, then shrugged simply. "I don't know. But I choose to believe that when you die, you don't really die. Do you have a family?"

<p data-p-id="6fb4c9604263475b61b24c0c82149d16">"Yes," Sean said, voice quivering. "I have a mother. And an aunt. And a father, and an uncle, and grandparents, and cousins."

<p data-p-id="9ffc21c8288972a125c5bf67147ed124">"Will they remember you?" The boy asked.

<p data-p-id="a98728d2c4e25c4f99655f151d345227">Sean thought about this. "I hope they do."

<p data-p-id="a007f3445d992a53ecdfbbf3d34d7276">The boy looked at Sean and smiled. A last, final brief moment of peace, hopeful and warm, like a hug, like a second chance, like a soothing voice, telling him: It'll be okay. "I hope so too." He said. And he rang the bell.

<p data-p-id="576504252ec744f7376b0c59bbd51e92">Sean opened his eyes. He was in the seat of his car. He looked down at his hands. They were real. They were his real hands. He sat up in his seat from his position laying down. He looked at the driver. It was his dad. Sean looked at him, and reached over, hugging his free arm. He heard his father chuckle. Sean buried his face in his dads' arm. He looked up.

<p data-p-id="ab498aa4de08be534421617c29fbce9e">And the headlight of a car rammed into them, sending him flying through the windshield.

<p data-p-id="ab498aa4de08be534421617c29fbce9e">---

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