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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2083214-An-Unexpected-Visitor
Rated: E · Short Story · Sci-fi · #2083214
Death waits for no man...or does he?
An Unexpected Visitor

“You’re early, my friend” I said, stirring my tea. It was freshly poured and steaming with just a bit of honey. My visitor had arrived unexpectedly as I was about to take my first sip. “I suppose you’ll be asking me to leave with you, then.”

“You can’t run forever,” he replied from the shadows.

“Can’t I? I’ve been successful for years,” I reminded him with a satisfied grin.

“Evading inevitability, I’m afraid,” he noted.

“I suppose so.” He was grim as ever, cloaked in a dark hood, bony fingers tightly gripping his sickle. I never saw his face, which I suppose was a blessing. I’m sure the face of Death is enough to kill a man. Frankly, up until then, I had an aversion to dying. So, I returned to my tea, anxious for my taste, before it cooled too much. “After so long, you’ve never given up?”

“No,” his ghostly voice replied plainly.

“You know, they say that ‘Death waits for no man.’ I’ve kept you waiting quite a while, haven’t I?”

“Time is relative,” he clarified.

“Well, this is my home and I’ve no intention of leaving!” I declared.

“This is an illusion. The truth is waiting for you on the other side.”

“The truth?” I sighed, exhausted. “Maybe you’re right. Is it centuries now? I’m weary…tired of the pursuit. I’ve done my best to hide but you find me every time.”

“Then come with me.”

I set my cup down, the mystical brew I’d gotten from an old druid that sustained me for millennia. Ironically, he died long ago and, despite a once ample supply, I was running short, just a matter of years before I was out. Admittedly, fear of judgement, prevented me from moving on. “Spirit, what waits for me on the other side?”

“That depends on the life you’ve built, the feats you’ve pursued, the character you’ve developed.”

“Well, then.” I pushed myself to my feet. My knees were weak with age. Death held out a skeleton hand and beckoned me. “Will it hurt?” I asked as we stepped into the darkness.

“Only living hurts,” he explained.

Instantly, I was blinded by flashing lights as my eyes tried to adjust. “Is he awake?” I heard someone ask anxiously against a muffled alarm.

There was a click and a whir before the air changed and earsplitting klaxons rattled my brain. “Captain,” my first officer declared. “We need you! Now!”

I began to remember, steadily waking from a dream that seemed more than a lifetime. I was captain of the Deep Space Vessel Endeavor. “Report.”
“Antigravs are failing and we’re being dragged toward a black hole!” he explained.

“Jesus.” I massaged my head, trying to wrap my mind around coming back. “How long were we down?”

“The year is 4217.”

“Two thousand years?” A hell of a long time in cryosleep. Still, I couldn’t shake the end of my dream. It really was living that hurts. “Okay. Let’s cheat death one more time.”


498 words
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