Hey guys! So as I was getting ready for bed, words kept bouncing around in my head, and like all writers I just couldn’t ignore them. Also like most writers you end up with something. I will admit this one came out a little different than I thought it would when I started writing, but I’m not to upset about that. For some it may seem a little dark, but don’t worry it doesn’t have any underlining meaning, just a story my fingers typed. But my literature side is coming out with this one, and I am curious who you all think the one telling this story is, so please feel free to share your thoughts! Anyways, without further rambling, my story for the night!
Everyone fears death. Some may claim they view death as an old friend, but deep down they fear her. She comes for everybody, and all know one day they will meet her face to face. The brave look her in the eye. The meek glance away as she approaches, and then there’s some that take her by the hand. Death does not hate anyone; she does not revel in the cruelty of her job. The wailing of sorrows is not music to her ears. She flinches at the curses anger casts her way. All she wanted was an honest world, for truth to be known. Too many find the truth to be harsh, and flea from its light. No one hates Death, they hate the truth she sheds on things. The truth of how short our time is, of how wasted most of our lives are. If we acknowledge her truth, we would have to turn from our ways. What drunk wants to give up his wine, what sinner their sin? Death is not their enemy, rather a gentle spirit trying to end their pain. Too many souls act without cause when death comes for them, but not I. I await her like a lost lover. A soul waiting for their other half to finally be reunited.