Return - By Nikiwe Beauchamp

Written By: Nikiwe Beauchamp

Category: Short story

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In an evocative entry for the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, Nikiwe Beauchamp presents "Return," a short story that masterfully delves into the complex themes of life, death, and balance. Through the lens of a rich narrative, Beauchamp explores the interplay between immortality and humanity, capturing the essence of existence with a unique and thought-provoking perspective.

About the Work

"Return" is a vivid exploration of the eternal dance between Life and Death. Through striking imagery and a moody atmosphere, Beauchamp crafts a narrative that is both engaging and introspective. The story's rich dialogue and dynamic character interactions create an immersive experience, inviting readers to ponder the delicate balance between creation and cessation in a world where immortals walk among us.

Return

Original Submission by Nikiwe Beauchamp

Return

Dark clouds devoured the daytime light. Heavy rains poured and beat on the floor-to-ceiling windows of the large apartment. The room was quiet, save for the crackling, wood-burning fire and the popping cinders that jumped about. The lighting was dimmed, the curtains drawn. The room was bathed in a deep red glow.

He wanted to remain covered in darkness, hiding in the shadows along with his failures. His long black dreads curtained his face. The man sitting on the couch, dapperly dressed in an expensive looking deep crimson suit, with a tall glass of wine in his right hand, stared bitterly at the folded newspaper on the coffee table:

‘Census Completed: World Population at 12 Billion’

He slowly swirled the contents of his glass before bringing it to his lips and downing the last of it. The burn of the alcohol that flowed down his throat did little to quench the resentment already in him.

Death hadn't done his job for five years. No one had died for five years. A lot of children had been born, though. The proof of his absence stared him blank in the face. The never ageing entity leaned his head against the back of the leather recliner and closed his eyes.

There was a knock at the door. The irony of the situation amused him. Someone literally knocked at Death’s door however, this particular guest could never die. Another knock. He didn’t move to open it. They would walk right in anyways.

She always did.

As if hearing his thoughts, the door opened and someone walked in. The woman who’d entered was elegantly dressed in a flowing pastel pink dress with a white cape over her shoulders. Her face was an ever changing montage of age. One minute she looked young and ambitious, another she looked matured and wise. Her waist-length braids adorned with gold decorations moved in an unnatural way, almost like they had a mind of their own. She looked regal and ethereal. A light always seemed to follow her.

She was Life.

“You’ve looked better.” she looked down at him.

“Don’t start with me.” Death wasn't happy that his older sister had come to visit. He poured himself another glass of wine then set down the bottle. Life reached over and poured herself a glass. He stared at her sceptically, his blackened fingers curling around his glass. She offered a cheeky smile before answering.

“It’s not like I’m going to drink myself to death. I’m already here in your apartment afterall.” She took a sip of the red liquid.

He didn’t laugh at her joke. He’d never found it funny.

Yes, they were immortals, but honestly, so what?

They fell into silence. The rulers of existence sat comfortably and listened to the pouring rain. Life turned to face her brother. Her brown skin glowed in the firelight.

“I haven’t seen you in years. Five to be exact. What’s stopping you from working?” For once she finally looked around his age, how old that was, Death didn’t know. It was so hard to keep track of time, not to mention that was a very mortal thing to do anyways.

“I just don’t see the point anymore. Humanity is out of my reach. Their technology to prolong life has advanced too much.” He slumped in his seat. Was he pouting? Yes. Did he give a damn what his sister thought about it? No.

“That’s never stopped you before. Mankind has been evolving and prolonging themselves for centuries, but none has managed to avoid meeting you eventually.” She finished her glass and set it on the table.

“But they don’t fear me as they once did.” Death sat up, “The last time I arrived to take away a life-an old, gluttonous rich man who’d eaten his life away- my accessory didn't work. I tried to cut his spirit out, but it failed.” He tried not to sound as dejected as he felt.

“That’s impossible! Death, you are absolute. No mortal can defy that universal constant.” Life brushed a hand over her braids, to cease their unnatural motion. She needed the stillness to think.

“Apparently, they can.” he shrugged. “I thought you’d be glad. Surely Life would be grateful that Death can no longer bind her.” He sardonically replied.

“It’s all about balance, Death. We exist together, neither one of us can do it alone.” She looked towards his large wooden black box that sat next to the fireplace. Within it was his accessory, or more accurately, The Shift. The object used to remove a person’s soul. The true appearance of the object remained unknown. Only Death knew what it really looked like. To everyone else it took the form of the tool appropriate to remove the soul depending on the person’s death. A person who died of old age might need a scalpel to have their soul removed. Slowly and precisely, easy and painless. However, a person whose life came to an abrupt end would have their soul torn out with a serrated blade.

Life opened the wooden box and took out The Shift. It had no solid form. Its appearance kept changing because it could never do harm to Life herself. She inspected the ever-changing substance carefully, and closed her hand over it. The Shift finally settled to a simple switch-blade. Her fingers slid over the lustrous surface. There was a certain texture missing.

“When was the last time you polished The Shift?” Life asked, alarmed by how worn his accessory looked. It would never rust, an immortal weapon didn’t deteriorate the same way manmade objects did. The Shift was as old as Death was, but it still needed to be polished quite frequently.

“The last time I took a life.” Death rested his elbow on the arm rest, watching his sister with a certain level of curiosity. What did she think she’d find that he couldn’t in the five years since he’d used the damn thing?

“You haven’t polished it in five years?” she looked over her shoulder to him.

“Why would I? No one was dying.” he answered drily.

Life put The Shift down and looked at the bottle of concentrated fear also stored in the wooden box. It was empty.

She looked over to her brother who was preoccupied with his now fourth glass of wine. Something wasn’t right. She looked closer at him, a large purple bruise stood out on his brown skin. On his neck more specifically, along with a red lipstick smudge.

“Were you with someone last night?” she noted the extra glass next to the leg of the coffee table that she hadn’t noticed when she’d arrived.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” he responded defensively.

“If it’s who I think then it definitely concerns me. Do you remember last night at all?”

“Not really,” he looked up to his sister, the light of the fire highlighting her face. “What are you getting at?” he was starting to lose his patience. Life was always snooping into his affairs.

“You got played, Death. Your bottle of fear has been emptied out and your memories tampered with.” She walked over to him to show him the empty bottle. “How could you sleep with Temptation and not see this coming? She’s the reason no one has died in five years. Every time you let her come over she’d mess with your mind and steal from you, and it looks like she’s been doing it for years without you knowing.”

Realisation sobered him up. Death sat up alert. He took in a deep breath to clear his head as if he’d been under a spell the entire time.

“Without my bottle of fear my Shift could never be sharp enough to sever anything.” His sunken eyes looked like they might pop out of his face.

“If she gave my fear to humanity, they could get immunity to it. If they don’t fear then I can’t be summoned and their souls float in limbo. They don’t die, but they’re not alive either.” He looked down at the newspaper again. “Dammit…”

“You really should’ve read the entire article. The population is twelve billion because technically no one’s died, but over three billion people are in between life and death, all in some kind of coma. Their bodies won’t even shut down until their souls leave. The planet is a mess.” Life looked like the weight of the entire world was on her body. Her shoulders slumped, her skin was stretched out and dark circles were under her eyes that she could barely keep open. Her expression looked jaded. Perhaps she was. Dealing with life all by herself without her brother to balance her out must have really taken a toll on her.

Death shattered the wine glass in his hand and stood up slowly. His head never lifted, he stood stark still.

“Where is she?” His voice was choked with restraint, his body trembled.

Memories of all the taunting and ridicule he’d received, all the times he couldn’t end a life came rushing back.

The complete humiliation.

The sheer insolence of humanity.

“I don’t know. She’s figured out a way to blend in with humanity.” Life recognised that look on his face. Her heart began to race.

“Even so, she can’t deny her true nature, her name. I will find her.” He looked at his sister with raging eyes that glowed with the flames of the fire. His scowl pulled at his lips, the veins in his neck protruded.

“I’m coming with you.” Having her brother back was a good thing, but she had to make sure he didn’t go too far.

The scales needed to be balanced, not tipped completely from her side to his.

Death turned and walked to the door. He grabbed his black cape of shadow and threw it over his shoulders, the bottom pooled at his feet. The long, black fabric danced around him, shadows leapt and screeched in joy around his form, cloaking him in living darkness then settled into silence over him. Life followed closely behind him. Death looked over his shoulder to the fireplace, Life looked back as well. He slowly closed his hand into a fist, at the same time the fire extinguished and darkness filled the room.

The eternal pair left the apartment: dark, cold and empty.

The wrath of Death was fast approaching.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a prestigious platform celebrating diverse voices in poetry and creative writing. It invites participants worldwide to share their unique narratives and artistic expressions, fostering a global community of literary talent.

We extend our heartfelt gratitude to Nikiwe Beauchamp for sharing "Return" with us as part of the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Your evocative storytelling and exploration of profound themes enrich the tapestry of creative writing. Thank you for your contribution and for taking us on this imaginative journey.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.