I can hear him coming for me, walking swiftly down these sterile halls. No one notices him. He’s beautiful in every way. Just a man to some but to others the end. He doesn’t bother to even look through the other rooms, he knows exactly where I am. He isn’t smiling and neither am I when we come face to face again. You see we’ve met. I’ve received this man’s cold touch and kiss before.
The first time we met he kissed me while I was lying in a shallow grave, covered in dirt, gasping for air, and praying to a God I no longer believed in to save me. Only this beautiful cold man came instead and he gave me strength in his kiss. He whispered softly to me “now is not your time little one, but we will meet again.” And so we would.
Thirty-two years later and I’ve been waiting on him for months. I’ve endured pain for nigh on 7 months now and I’ve prayed, yes I prayed, not to God, but to him, the cold man and I hoped he would come and take me with him this time. I was done here.
You see he didn’t scare me like he scared some. I’ve done my research. I’ve been searching for him since I could learn to read. People have many perceptions of what he looks like and how he will come for them. Mine is of a beautiful cold man. He has many names: Uriel, Samael, Pale Rider, Thanatos, Anubis, Reaper, and Quietus just to name a few. I prefer to call him Quietus as it just suits the man he showed me that day so long ago.
I’ve remembered him all these years, replaying in my mind the day we met, his words to me, the strength I felt from him. I’ve used that strength all my life. It’s only fitting to give it back to him now. I learned from him that we’re all on borrowed time. Whether you borrowed it from Death himself or just living until you actually die, it’s all just borrowed. He will come for you eventually. I was supposed to die when I was 5 years old but he gave me more time. I’d like to think I used it wisely and to do good things but I can’t really be the judge of that. All I really know is that I’m glad my time is done and I’m happy an old friend is seeing me out.
Who would have thought Quietus could bring such light?
As we embrace I smile at him grateful at last to feel his cold fingers on my face once again, his lips brush against mine and I’m no longer damaged.