Bonfires and Marshmallows

          “You don’t have to be so afraid, you know.”

        My hands froze on the keyboard as a deep and surrounding voice filled the room.

        “It’s hard not to. I don’t know what it would mean, or what would happen.”

        The one I call Death pulled a smokey piano bench out of thin air and sat down next to me. To my surprise, he was wearing a pink Hawaiian button-up shirt with embroidered yellow flowers on it, and a cute little straw hat with a blue bow on it.

        “Why don’t you choose to believe in one of those new-fangled afterlives then? Or in reincarnation?”

        I shook my head, but did not answer the question. Instead, I said, “Don’t you have souls to attend to? Others to do your work upon?”

        He had no eyes in those boney sockets of his, but he tilted his head like he was glancing at me.

        “Not today. Today is mostly Famine and War’s doing. I’ve got the day off.”

        “So, what, Hawaii?”

        He shrugged, “Just the aesthetic. I gave Poison reign over Hawaii. Too many poisonous and venomous creatures on that island. Heart attacks aren’t as common as a result. Neither are strokes, or murders. She can handle it.”

        “So why come here? Trying to convince me not to be scared? To not fear you?”

        “Oh, no, of course not. Change is scary. But you don’t have to spend so much time being afraid of me.”

        He picked up my blue stuffed sharks, Lostie and Aqua, and passed them to me. Before doing so, he stroked each of their heads.

        I looked down at them as I took them into my arms to hug them.

        “You don’t think caring about stuffed animals to be considered silly?”

        He shook his head.

        “I certainly do not believe they are manufactured with a soul… but when you love anything, be it people or blahajs, you give it a part of your soul to hold onto. They will come with you, when time comes.”

        “You promise?”

        “I promise.”

        I squished them both tightly. Their soft and fluffy exteriors were comforting to me through this conversation.

        “I don’t want to ask anything, you know.”

        Death nodded, “I'm aware. I know that you have feared me for a very long time, and I know you take no comfort in my impending arrival.”

        “Then why come visit me at all? To be here, when I don’t intend to ask you a question?”

        Death laid one sparse hand against his skull at the jawbone, and looked up thoughtfully.

        “Maybe I came for fun.”

        “For fun?”

        “Do you like riddles?”

        I stared at him in amazement.

        “What?”

        “I understood you were fond of riddles, and I feel like if I offer you one, you may take just a little bit more pleasure in this conversation.”

        “Why would you ask me a riddle of all things?”

        “Because I hear you’re a smart girl and I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

        Hearing him address me as a girl was as surprising as his arrival here in the first place. I had, above most things, believed that in dying I would only be acknowledged as that which added to the ground: Dirt, yet to decompose.

        Death leaned back as the piano stool became a small bench, “You don’t seem happy with me saying that.”

        “No, no! I am, I’m sorry, I just— I don’t know how to take this conversation at all. I certainly wasn’t expecting a conversation with you.”

        He nodded, and pulled a letter from his pocket.

        “You seem to have the shivers. So what if I can offer you a promise?”

        I looked up at him in surprise.

        “A promise?”

        “Yes. You see, you are far more afraid of this world than you really ought to be. You are so startled at the idea that I lurk around every corner that you are afraid to live your own life and spend your time freely.”

        “It’s hard to feel like it’s worth it when I feel like I can’t keep anything after it’s all over.”

        His bony hand covered mine gently. I was surprised to find such a skeletal figure giving off a soft warmth.

        “That’s exactly it. I’m going to offer you a simple promise. A signal, if you will.”

        “What sort of signal?”

        “Well, I can’t explain to you now how the moments after you’ve lived go, but I would like to assure you that there will be something for you.”

        “And how do you intend to do that?”

        Death rolled the small letter out. It was a simple agreement, an IOU. It read:

       

        I, the undersigned, due in the course of this arrangement, promise to allow both the lives of Ms. S.G., and her partner, Ms. E.M., to continue unimpeded until well after they finally get a place together, and well after they’ve lived a good year or so onward.

        At which point, life goes on regardless, and in due course.

 

        Beneath the letter was a swooping and elaborate signature which loosely read “Death of Life, Sixteenth and Two.”

        “And what assurance is this meant to bring me?”

        “Well, the goal is that if you know I can hold this agreement, that you will be able to believe me when I say there will be something for you, after all.”

        “Is this a deal you can really make me? How am I to be sure there’s anything behind it?”

        “That’s the point of this agreement, dear.”

        He adjusted his hat and kicked his feet up onto my writing table.

        “You don’t have to believe me, of course. But I at least wanted to try and provide you some comfort. Something nice.”

        “And why should I believe in anything like that even if you follow through with the deal?”

        Again his bony face had no proper expression, but it still seemed to give off an air of slight bewilderment.

        “You, Miss, are going to try and tell me that here, living in a spherical world hurtling around a flaming ball of gas as part of a system of systems, so far across that gods might play football in them, barreling through a universe so wide and vast that there might be multiple playfields and thousands of lives, all in the same ever-expanding bubble that seemed to come from utter nothingness and is literally the most impossible thing to explain, and being given and honored an agreement with Death himself, that there would be nothing, nothing, to hope for or to expect after that last chime?”

        My cheeks burned with embarrassment as he made it sound so stupid of me to believe such a thing.

        He seemed to notice this and waved a bit.

        “I will not stop you if you do, but I really just wish to save you some heartache.”

        I took some deep breaths and pondered his proposal. Could he really swear by such a thing? Could he really offer such a promise?

        He held up a bony finger.

        “This does not include suicide. If you stay, I can show you how this formula turns into something lovely. But only if you don't wipe away the blackboard first."

        I rolled my eyes, “Like I would. I’m far too nervous of all this to even consider the idea, and don’t want to lose what I have.”

        He gently rested a hand on my shoulder.

        “That’s the spirit. Now then, does that help?”

        I nodded, “I think so. You still spook me, though.”

        “I’ll just be sure to follow the agreement. And you’ll see, on the End, that I keep my word.”

        He stood up from his piano bench, and turned towards the foggy door. But before leaving, he paused.

        “You’ve heard of Alice in Wonderland, yeah?”

        “Of course, why?”

        “I’ve always wondered about that riddle.

                ‘Why is a raven

                                Like a writing desk?’

                                        You know the one.”

        “What about it?”

        “When the time comes, I’d love to hear you give me an honest solution. Sound good?”

        I admittedly did not know what to say, and my mouth must’ve been agape as he, with one gentle finger, pushed it closed.

        “Pretty face. I look forward to seeing it again eventually. Goodnight.”

        And with a doff of his hat, he vanished into a puff of smoke.

 

        It smelled lightly of a bonfire and marshmallows.