Through the Valley: Part 1
The start of our tale
Welcome to my little corner of the internet! I’m so glad you’re here. Below you’ll find part 1 of my short story about death (and Death). It’s a riot.
Even from the start, from our very first interaction, he was screwing with me.
Of course, the part of my mind that had decided he was trying to kill me (the amygdala?) made focusing on practical jokes difficult. I was perhaps still mildly intoxicated from the tequila as well.
Here’s what happened: I was asleep. How do I know this? First, I had taken a strong dose of the aforementioned medicine prescribed to me by Dr. Jose Cuervo, MD. In addition, I was having a rather vivid dream of Centennial High School’s 2004 senior prom (more about this later).
I wonder how long it took him to wake me up. I wonder if he stood there, reflecting moonlight into my eyes with that damn scythe, getting more and more frustrated. That gives me a small amount of comfort.
Eventually, it worked. I lifted my head, looking around groggily. All I saw during those opening seconds was the gleam of the metal. It looked like a distant star had landed in my bedroom. An angelic visitation? Here I am, Lord. Send me! It was a different sort of angel, though.
It was Death.
That sounds dramatic, right? What do you think of when I say it was Death? Maybe you imagine some floating, dark-robed skeleton-man with a metallic voice. Maybe you can see him waiting at the foot of my bed, his six-foot scythe raised ominously, as though thirsty for the blood of a mortal.
Am I close?
At least I don’t have to describe him to you.
“Wh… what do you want?” I asked. Part of me (closer to all of me if we’re being honest) wanted to hide under the blankets and hope he would go away.
“Jiiiin.” The wail came from the apparition before me, a tea-kettle whisper. It reminded me of my childhood, when I’d sit next to my bedroom window on a lonely October night and listen to the wind pass through the trees, a harbinger of the storm to come. The sound chilled me to the bone.
Death rose higher into the air until his feet were level with the bed, then started moving towards me. I backed up as far as I could, only stopping when I hit the wall.
“Who are you?” I yelled. I should have jumped to the side, or thrown the bottle of tequila at him. Instead, I froze in place.
“Jiiin,” Death said again, louder this time. He wasn’t moving quickly, but even still there was not much room for him to cover. I needed to do something, now.
“Expelliarmus!” I yelled. No effect. Damn you, Rowling! Death pulled the scythe back, and I fearfully acknowledged that I was close to the end. I’d like to say I met that fear bravely, looking into eternity and spitting in its face.
Instead, I screamed like a little girl. My death howl began in unison with his downward swing, the trajectory of which would carry it directly through my chest. I vainly raised my arms as a shield, and then…
I feel like this is a good time to take a step back.
Why was Death in my room in the first place, you might ask. The answer is… complicated. I’m not sure I entirely understand it myself. I guess the best place to start is at the beginning. For that, we’ll have to go back in time about twelve hours. That’s where you’ll find me, a thirty-year-old man, surrounded by little girls at the park.
Ready? Let’s go.
Suggested music for Part 1: Dark Signs by Sleep Token
Keep reading! Part 2 is ready, for you!
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