Death Meets Dave

The blade felt almost soft. It had been sharpened recently – maybe that was why. The flesh on Dave’s arm parted neatly. The empty space quickly filled with a warm red liquid. He found it beautiful. His skin was pale like a vampire’s; it matched the porcelain of the tub he sat in. The water was warm, peaceful. It was time, all he had to do was wait.

Dave closed his eyes. Time passed slowly. Dave began to feel less lucid, like he had been spun around in a children’s game.

Finally, there was a creak at the door.

“Hello, Dave,” said the voice, weary from traveling.

Dave opened his eyes. He knew who it was.

The man before him wore a black robe. His face bare of all flesh. The bones were milk white and smooth like river rock.

“Hello,” Dave whispered, barely conscious of what was going on. His vision was blurry, from the lack of blood he assumed.

“Speak to me like a man.” His words were laced with disappointment. Death tapped his staff on the ground. It looked made of charcoal and housed a long curved blade.

“I’ve been waiting.” Dave said, his voice now clear. He blinked and his vision returned to him.

“What do you want from me?” Death asked. His tone was undercut with slight frustration.

“Why do you sound angry?” Dave asked confused.

“I feel like we’ve been doing this dance for years. I have work to do, places to be.” Death rubbed the side of his head.

“I have a question for you.”

“Couldn’t you just write me a letter?” His tone was now complete frustration.

“You never gave me an address.” Dave nearly chuckled.

Death sighed, “Dave, you can’t keep doing this. The whole ‘I didn’t mean it act’ will only work for so long. I’ll have to do my job eventually.” Dave couldn’t tell if that was a threat or not.

Dave thought for a moment. “I need to know about Craig.”

“What about him? He did what you did, only he meant it.” Though Dave knew it was impossible, it looked like Death was getting flustered with him.

Dave sat up and curled his arms around his knees. His skin becoming stained with his own blood. “Was it my fault?”

Death raised an eyebrow – or lack thereof perhaps. “Does it matter?”

“It’s why I brought you here,” said Dave.

Death sighed again and leaned against his staff. Dave wondered for a moment how many people have done the exact same thing to Death. Dragging him here with no intention of actually leaving. All they want is for him to answer something, make them feel at peace for a change.

“It was,” Death finally said.

Dave nodded, surprised at how calm he was to hear that.

“Now what?” Death asked. He lay down the toilet cover and sat on it.

“I wish I could apologize.” Dave said, staring out into space.

“I’ll tell you what,” Death cleared his throat. “I’ll let you apologize to your friend, but in exchange…” Death pointed a bony finger at him. “You come with me.”


“It’s either that or you go back to your life, and you live with your guilt.” Death shrugged.

Dave thought about what Death said.



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