Death Wept

It was drizzling out.

The wet pavement reflected the lights of the building ahead as though he was walking on across broken a mirror.

It was as though Mother Nature decided that the setting should reflect the grey mood.

Death walked slowly.

Normally, he went about his business without much delay, but the situation of late made even Death slow down, just a little.

He took no pleasure in his work. It was a necessary thing, to take people to the afterlife, but he didn’t revel in it either.

And some days were harder than others.

But these days he was far too busy. In fact, he started taking group trips because he no longer had time to do journeys individually.

So he walked onto the hospital grounds.

It was chaos.

There were machines beeping, people moving quickly from person to another. Doctors and nurses monitored patients and handed them pills and checked machines.

Death walked among them, but they couldn’t see him. But they did sense his ghostly presence for they spent so much time in his company.

But he watched, and listened. He could see it was wearing on them. He saw the slumped shoulders, the lines under their eyes, and the scars cutting into their skin from their ever present masks.

It was times like this he wished he’d gone into another line of work. Or at least do something to help.

But, the only thing he could do was do what he’d always done and shepherd souls to the after life as quickly as possible. He stood there amazed at what he saw. They did everything they could and yet he’d still been called.

He shared with the doctors and nurses a silent promise that he’d care for the souls they tried so hard to save.

As he walked he saw his charges appearing one after another.

There were all sorts, old, middle aged, men, and women.

And old man’s soul stood up staring at Death, “I thought you might be coming.”

“Come with me,” Death said, and they gathered the others.

Too many of them spent their last moments alone. Death gathered them, for he would make sure they wouldn’t be alone for another minute.

“Come with me,” he said in a calm voice. His deep baritone timbre went soft, a whisper in the night.

And they followed.

He saw a group of medical staff around one bed. They lost one of their own to the virus.

She was young. They cried.

Death took her by the hand, “I’m sorry young one.”

She started to cry, not for her own demise, but that she could no longer help anyone and Death bent down.

“I need a favor,” he asked.

“W-w-what?” she said as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“You see them?” Death motioned towards the souls gathered behind him.

“Yes.”

“They still need your help. Will you help me keep them safe?”

“Yes,” and she took her place among the souls.

Death gathered them but at the last moment he felt it.

Another soul to be reaped.

And so Death took his charges to another part of the hospital.

Death moved slowly as he approached the Neonatal ICU with his group of souls. One by one they realized where they were going.

Some took solace that they heard crying, but Death knew that it was not the sound of a baby, but a mother and father.

Death moved quickly, and gathered the little soul in his arms and left the parents to grieve.

Death held him in his arms, “I’m so sorry little one.” But the baby just stared at the robed figure. It reached for his long bony finger.

As Death gathered his charges to take them to the after life, he pulled his hood lower.

Because he didn’t want anyone to see that Death was crying.