Tag: death

A Warning from Death (A Short Story)

Hello,

I wanted to write a letter to clear things up. I am quite possibly the most misunderstood person you will meet. Most people fear me, but I’m not scary. I am the one who helps you pursue what is most important in life. I am the End, yes, but the end is what makes the journey a journey. Without it, you would no real reason to focus on what is most important, nor acceptance of what you have. By establishing finiteness, I establish value.

I know very well what it is like to be feared. This is the standard way humans misunderstand me. I have dealt with it for millennia. What I didn’t anticipate was your corporations. They drain bits and pieces of my essence for their profit, all in the effort to give others cheap profit. Momentary happiness or release to hook people into an addiction in which I slowly drain them into me. The endless machine of more and more is ever consuming. It will only expand to engulf your world and everything in it.

What is truly shocking to me is how these humans who drain the life of others for their own profit don’t really gain much of anything in the process. These vampires are too wasting their life. They just spend their life trying to make more instead of enjoying what they have. Addicted to money and the gain for more more more each quarter, they remake their consumers into their own vampiric image. They also leave their employees husks of their former selves, only able to consume with the little energy and money they have. Take me as a purist, but this bends the very foundation of what I am.

So take this my warning. Embrace death so that you can embrace life, but if you embrace this, you are embracing nothing but a shadowy existence that is neither.

Yours truly,
Death

Whispers Among the Stones (A Short Story) 

It all started the day my parents moved us to the cemetery to save money. We would hide here among the stones at night and beg out in the streets during the day. 

We had nothing, but the little we had decreased every day. On the streets, most people would ignore us as they walked by. I would walk along the path looking for someone who might at least speak with me or do anything but stare straight ahead as if I did not exist. 

No one chooses to sleep in a cemetery. Only us and the untold dead. 

I saw a former classmate walk down the street. I shouted and followed him. After several blocks he turned around to acknowledge me. I could see the horror and sadness in his face as he had looked at what I had become. 

It got worse overtime. We got less and less energy. We would beg closer to the cemetery and eventually just along the road right outside. Few people came by here, but we couldn’t make it much further. Our bodies wasted into our skeletons as we got more and more desperate for food. 

Sometimes we couldn’t even muster the ability to leave the cemetery. We just sat there looking into the city that had treated us as if we were already dead. 

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