Time for another story. I tried submitting this story to several publications but none accepted it so I decided it was time to share it with you. It’s one of my personal favorites and hope that you will enjoy it as well. Feel free to share it and comment below, I’m curious to know your thoughts on it.
Sebastian (I Am Death)
I am Death. I’ve always been, I will always be. Some have tried to stop me, but yet here I am. Ready to pounce, ready to strike, ready to take what I want. I have been called many names, but none suit me like Death. I. Am. Death.
I lurk unseen by everyone, yet I am always present. I see you though you do not fear me. I watch you carefully, calculating, but you don’t notice it. I relish those times when you try to ignore me because that’s when I strike. You can’t deny me, you can’t run far enough away from me. I will get you, I always get my prey. You may avoid me temporarily, but in the end, none escape my touch.
But…I so enjoy being lazy. It makes you careless. You turn away from my terror. You lose sight of what I am. Nothing brings me greater satisfaction. You feel safe, but in an instant I strike. When I do, what can you do about it? Nothing. That control I have over you is…intoxicating. I get drunk from my own madness and I always want more. Lulling you into believing I am not here makes the end so much more gratifying. Please, please ignore me as I sit here being lazy.
Sometimes I enjoy playing with my prey. To see you squirm and struggle in my grasp perks my ears up and my heart races. My eyes light up. Your frantic struggles make my mouth water. The tease, the back and forth, now that gets me going. Just as you feel safe, I crush down on you harder. I enjoy letting you feel as though escape were possible. You get so excited. Your eyes betray the hope within. Hope motivates. Hope forces a struggle. Your effort keeps me interested. So, I let you have your hope. I let you feel as though you are moments away from escape and then I strike harder. I know, it’s not fair to you, but what do I care? I am Death. This is what I do.
I see only black and white. I don’t see shades of gray or vibrant color as some say. I see only death and life. My job is to take life, and for that I don’t need anything other than black and white. Terror needs no color. My actions bring only black. Dark and light, black and white. You see light, you see color, you see hope. I know none of that. I see light that needs the dark. I see white that needs the black. Some say I know other than black and white, but they are wrong. They think they know me as though I’m an old friend. None know me like that.
I’m but a temporary companion. You want more of me because you are foolish. You don’t fear what you can see, but what you see isn’t what it seems. Those who get to know me do so only when I am there for a purpose. I don’t “make friends.” I bring death. You’re lucky, you get to know me because I allow it now. But who says I’m not lulling you into complacency? I am Death after all.
I sit in the company of others for the briefest of times. I may appear to be listening like a good friend, but I’m not. I don’t care about you. I don’t care about anything other than death. I’ll snuggle up to you, I’ll stay close. That makes you happy. That gives you security. And you’re a fool. I’m only toying with you. You’re my pet at that moment. I own you. And it’s all just a game to me. I know not nor do I care about your past. My purpose is to take your future when I want. To deprive you of life when I deem it ready.
Do you understand yet? I’m not here for you. I’m here for myself and nothing else. Am I selfish, do I carry narcissistic tendencies? Am I self-absorbed? Does it matter? You will never know what I truly think. You see something benign, something you can pass over. For your recklessness, I say thank you.
I lay here lazy and waiting. You mention something to me. The sounds come out as “See-Bass-Shun.” I’m sure it’s only your way of saying “Death.” You stroke my head unaware how close you are to losing your hand and maybe something worse. I begin my death sounds, the slow rumble within my throat, but you stroke my head more. Go on. My death sound is meant to transfix you, to capture you, to trap you.
Sure, you think I have some greater purpose. That’s all part of the facade. Go on believing it. One day, it will catch up to you. But by then it will be too late. It’s always too late for my prey. You will never know it’s too late, but I will. Your time is mine to take. I am Death.