Death

By Layla Ramsay

A long and well lived life. That’s my favourite kind of larceny. Although, I do sometimes enjoy a little chaos here and there, but for this particular life, I was feeling merciful. She had seen many faces. Faces of kindness and faces of cruelty, and there was no way I was going to allow the last face she ever saw, to be one of malice, so I redirected her in her path.

There was just something about this one, she wasn’t like the others. 

But let’s start this story off with the moment she met the eyes of altruism.

At first, it was the disgusting sight of little children running amuck, screaming, and shouting, and touching things the needed not to be touched. Trapped inside this circling chaos of faces, foreign hands, and if you were so lucky, you might’ve even got a wet kiss and a suffocating squeeze from one of these foreigners. 

Shy, tired, and hidden away high atop one of the structures, she lay, curled up in the dark of a cocoon-like home, all that stuck out was the tip of her tail, the colour of a day’s last sunlight. 

I imagine by now that you’re probably realising that it is not a human’s life that I speak of, furthermore, it has come to my attention that I should probably explain myself. You see, not only do I deal with the lives of mankind, but I also work with other species too, such as that squawking budgie that your younger cousin Jeremy once had, I quite enjoyed playing around with your patience when the opportunity presented itself. 

I shall not tell you who I am, because despite mankind’s lack of common sense these days, I have no doubt that you will come to your senses by the end of this story, that is if you haven’t already figured me out. But let’s not dwell on this subject as I am here to share the life story of someone who deserved not to die, but unfortunately that’s just life, and you should come to accept that because that same fate is pegged onto your back like a classic senior year’s prank, only true. 

With that being said, I would like to readdress our entity here. 

In those dark shadows of her cocoon were a pair of kiwi green eyes, rimmed with pale shades of brown. Her coat was striped with fur, each strand a different shade of orange and gold. Her nose was shaped like a love heart, pink and petite. She had whiskers like harp strings and the pads of her paws were like bongo drums, yet they tread lightly. 

If I’m being honest, I originally came to her on this day to take her away, but it was on this day that the perfect family had laid their eyes upon her. This family would connect with her in countless ways. They were imperfect and broken apart, simply seeking a new beginning, and lucky for them, as was she. 

Old and frail, hurt and lonely, I realised that she needed this, this opportunity to regrow with a family in need of regrowth, so I backed away into the shadows and looked over her for years. It is not common that I have instincts like this, my job requires the riddance of empathy, but this just felt right, so I made an exception. 

Watching on for years, I was rewarded with the sight of healing, something which I am inclined to relinquish.  I witnessed the binding of trust between them, and the respect of each other’s boundaries in their traumas. I got to enjoy the sight of their tranquil existences as they grew into a family. In more ways than one, the presence of each other was simply fulfilling as life did not cease to allow peace for that family. Divorce truly is harrowing. Therefore, I do not regret gifting that family a life that was almost mine. 

In my line of work, I realise that I should be more attentive to the lives I brush over.  Sometimes I wish that life was never gifted to some of the souls I have taken, only then will my job be less painful. 

For this life, my mercy resulted in such a rewarding way. For once I was able to give myself credit for the smiles that spread across the family’s faces, and the uncontrollable laughter that brightened up their day, but I suppose now I must prepare myself to execute my duty once and for all. 

The day I finally came for her, it was in the evening, and she laid sprawled out on the beige carpet in a small patch of sun that seeped through the window. Her life was long lived, and as the effects of old age had gradually taken over most of her mobility, I told myself that it was time to escort her to her resting place in the clouds. 

At first, she struggled to get up and move around the floor like there was a stone clogging her joints resulting in unbalanced mobility. Unlike her usual choice, she curled up in the middle of the lounge room floor as though she wanted to be noticed, like she wanted to say her goodbyes and share her appreciation for her second chance at life. As they noticed her, she spoke softly with cracks in her voice, unalarmed and tired. I think she knew that I was there, watching, waiting. Waiting for the right moment, and that was her sign to let her family know that she was going to be alright.

Her breath softened, her ears no longer twitched at every sound, and her head remained laying on the floor, exhausted and weak, yet her eyes stayed open. At this point, everyone had spent their time with her, tears were shed, and memories were recited. 

It was now dark outside, the only light illuminating the room was the light from the kitchen, but I was still there, hiding in the shadows. She knew I was still there. 

When the time felt right, I emerged from the shadows and hovered over her relaxed body, her tummy rising in small amounts. She looked me right in the eyes before shutting hers one last time. So, I reached down with my hands cupped and with a gentle touch, I cradled her soul and slowly pulled it from her body, it’s glow as golden as I had initially predicted, and I held it close to my blackened heart, and with one hand, I reached out and stroked her cornflake-coloured fur for the first and last time.

Though it was painless for her, I felt something inside me ache, and suddenly, for the first time, I felt my heart, beat, but only once. Once for her.

Death is inevitable.

I am inevitable.

By Layla Ramsay