Death stood over me, waiting for me to release my grip in this old life.
“You cannot fight me, dear friend,” Death said to me.
“I am not your friend, please leave, and let me be,” I quietly said.
“You do not remember me,” Death said, “but, I have been watching you, very closely.”
“You have been watching me?” I was surprised to hear him say.
“Many times you almost fell into my grip, but you kept slipping away,” Death smiled. “HE always pulled you back. You had many close encounters with me, and now here you are lying near death’s door.”
“What are you talking about?” I refused to listen.
“You have been spared,” Death kept saying. “I cannot say why, you have been a very immoral man, with vices, with no love to give, your heart is filled with hate and you still refuse to believe you have something worth fighting for. HE was always there, saving you.”
“I never asked him to save me!” I shouted in anger.
Death cackled his horrible laugh.
“What is it you find entertaining?” I asked annoyed, yet frightened of his all knowing.
“You, my friend,” Death said. “I have seen many times through out my existence that those who eagerly greet death live longer than those who refuse to go live less. It is the same song and dance when I come for them.”
“I–I am not ready,” I sputter.
“Who is?” Death became deadpan, “you cannot deny me. HE can no longer stop me.”