December 3rd – The Truth Sucked the Life Right Out of his Chest
I am Death.
I am also Truth.
It’s not, as you might think, a result of cutbacks, or streamlining, or economising, or anything like that. It’s just, when you think about it, that the two are inextricably linked. Death is the ultimate truth. Truth is only, ultimately, in death.
I am both.
I don’t separate out my roles, usually. It’s a combined package.
I offer two services. Collect ad reveal.
The nature of my job means that no-one has the opportunity to turn me down, when I arrive. I can come when you least expect, or when you have been waiting for me for days, for months, for years, even. I can come in the darkness of the night, where the stars fight with an inky sky, or I can come in the brightness of a spring morning, drenched in colours.
It’s all the same to me.
Let me give you an example. Maybe then you’ll understand.
It was a hospital. Often, I come to hospitals, although not always. I don’t stick to visiting hours. That would be too predictable. I don’t like to be predictable.
I had visited him once before, just to watch. Just to see if I was needed, then, but the doctors and the machines held me off, for a while. I don’t mind. I know I’ll be back, sooner or later.
That is my truth. I will always come.
This time I was needed. He knew I was there. They always know that I’m there, although sometimes I’m not expected. Then it’s a little surprise. This one wasn’t a surprise.
The morning was creeping into the ward when I arrived, grey fingers edging under the blinds. He didn’t speak. They’re not supposed to see me, they’re just supposed to know, and he knew. He breathed a little heavier. The line on the machine spiked.
I leant over him. I can do it from a distance, but I think the personal touch is appreciated.
I whispered the words into his ear. They’re always different. I can’t tell you the words, because that would ruin some of the surprise when it’s your turn.
And it will be your turn.
I whispered the words, whispered his truth into his ear.
I held my hand over his heart. This isn’t to be dramatic. It just makes things easier.
I held my hand over his heart, and the truth sucked the life, what little was remaining, out of his chest.
I didn’t stay for long.
There is always work to do.
Inspired by a prompt from here.