Death's Embrace

I gaze with weary eyes at the explosion of colors outside my window. The sky is a combination of more hues than an artist could find on a palette; radiant shades of coral, crimson, violets, and colors that have not yet been named are splashed across the sky, like paint on a canvas.

As I take in the radiance, fragments of my life pass before my eyes: constructing forts in the bushes by my house with my brother, a place where we could take refuge from everyday chaos. Sprawling out on the grass, dew soaking our backs, as we gazed for hours at the stars. I think of my family: my parents, who to me were invincible. My brother, who at times could be the most annoying pest, but my best friend in the world at the same time. My grandparents, and the way they spoiled us whenever we visited them, and made us promise not to tell mom.

Now, my body aches with longing for the life that I had known before I had been taken captive by disease. My eyes shift from the view out the window to my family, standing crowded around my bed, looking at me with grief. I try to move my lips to give them some words of comfort, but the effort is too great. My mother takes my hand in hers, and my mouth curls into a smile. I close my eyes, exhausted, and drift off into a peaceful sleep.

Now I feel myself floating upwards. The agony that had plagued my body and mind seeps out of me, and is replaced by a feeling of vibrant life. I open my eyes, and rise to stand without difficulty. This is the first time I’ve been able to stand on my own in weeks! I’m healed! I turn to my family, expecting them to be overjoyed at my speedy recovery, but they are still staring desolately at the bed where I had been lying a moment ago. To my bewilderment, my mother’s lower lip begins to tremble, and she dissolves into tears.

“Mother!” I say, “Why are you crying? Everything’s all right, I’m all better now,” But she doesn’t hear me. Why are they all still staring at the bed? I follow their gaze onto the bed, and see myself still lying there, motionless. How can I be there when I am standing right here? Surely I’m not; no it can’t be…am I dead?

A ray of dazzling light appears before my eyes. When my eyes adjust, I realize that a woman is standing before me, cloaked in deep lilac robes. Her eyes seize mine, and hold them gently. They seem to have been woven from the fabric of dreams; I can detect flecks of love, passion, tenderness, and caring in their depths. But when I look deeper, I see that they are also drenched in an overwhelming anguish. A warm voice floats through my mind.
Don’t be afraid.

“Am I,” I whisper, “dead?” No sound falls from her lips, but her face says more than a million words ever could. Tears sting my eyes and cloud my vision.

“No!” I cry, “I’m too young, I’m not ready to die!” I turn back to the crowd around my bed. “I’ll stay here with my family, forever.” The woman’s silence suddenly enrages me.

“Why?” I demand of her, tears flowing freely now. “Why do you have to take me?” I crumble to the ground sobbing. After a few moments, she walks over to me, and offers a strong but gentle hand. A single, solitary tear trickles down the creases of her face.

“You were chosen,” she replies solemnly. At her words something changes within me. I know now I mustn’t be afraid. I slip my hand into hers, and she helps me to my feet. I take a deep breath, and steady my voice.

“Show me the way,”

She guides me out the door, and I bid one last loving glance at my family, before disappearing off into the radiant horizon, onto the next journey.