reposting “death”
in memory of a HS and college schoolmate, JR. a new father, a good friend to many, and an athlete. i am just re-posting a short i wrote a few years back, which may not entirely do justice to his life (because it’s not about him), but nevertheless this is for you as it was for those i remembered when i wrote this.
——
“swish, swish” said the tree branches.
“dub-dub” said the little heart.
“good bye” said I.
“tomorrow i will see you again.”
2 deaths in one week.
“kinda makes me think, you know,” she said to no one in particular. the night was young and the breeze was cold. nobody was waiting for her at home, so she continued to tread the grassy ground.
“i wonder if death will ever stop bugging people. it’s not a funny business, you know. taking people to the light at the end of the tunnel, just like that. hmmm,” the grassy ended at her feet. she had crossed a field and come to the pavement of a deserted street. she pondered some more if she should take another step.
“i guess i better be going.” she looked at the third house down on her left. the lights were still on. “somebody’s waiting for me now.”
she floated down the street in a kind of ecstatic feeling. it always brought her a sense of fulfillment when she knew somebody was waiting for her.
“the crickets are silent tonight,” she mused. “i guess they decided to cooperate at last.” she was in front of a brown streaked door, sounds of a television on the other side. she decided to knock on the door.
a girl, very much younger than she was, opened the door. a calm was on her face that was almost creepy. both of them went to the dining table and sat down across each other.
“i’ve seen you around, you know. but i never bothered to talk to you.” the younger girl said. her hands were resting on the table. she had long brown hair, and eyes of hazelnut and sorrow.
“most people never do. they’re afraid of me. they think i’m a freak.” the older girl half-smiled. “but you don’t, right? that’s why i like you more than the others.”
they talked. and talked until the wee hours of the morning. the younger girl had told her about her dreams of becoming a cheerleader, but how she had endured a hip injury that couldn’t earn her even a bench slot in the squad. they talked about death and how she always comes unexpected. just how it came to two of the neighborhood’s citizens.
“it’s very late, tasha.” the older girl stood up. tasha stood up too. a crimson stain had made a long solitary streak on her blouse.
“don’t go yet, please. i can’t be alone now. you can stay in my room.” she half-pleaded. “it’s so cold in this house.”
the older girl left tasha. she could not bear to look at her when she begged her to stay. it was a look of unfinished business, and she wanted to finish it. so she left the house.
—
it was morning. a small crowd had gathered in front of the house with a brown streaked door.
‘i never saw no one enter that door, ya hear?’ said an old woman who lived next door to a policeman. ’she was an awf’ly quiet young woman. parents left for the weekend, on a business trip or sumthin.’
‘never thought she had them problems like that. guess i thought wrong, huh?’
in a week or two the buzz would die down. the people would go back to their own businesses, forgetting about the girl that hang herself in her father’s study. or the young man who fell from a tree because he was drunk. or the young mother who lost all her hair before losing the battle with cancer.
but not this girl. she will move to another town and befriend new people. she will not forget her visit to this neighborhood or the lonely street and her conversation with tasha. the town will forget that Death visited them, but she won’t.
“swish, swish” said the tree branches.
“dub-dub” said the little heart.
“good bye” said I.
“tomorrow i will see you again.”
—-
©2007. Read my other shorts here. Please credit the author and site if you want to share this post.




















November 23rd, 2007 at 4:55 pm
death is also peace…
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come to think of it, you’re right. i was probably uncoscious of that fact when i wrote this, because for most who were left behind it’s usually not..
-ris
[Reply]
November 30th, 2007 at 2:28 am
ang ganda ris. death is not really an easy subject to deal with but what you did here was interesting.
i am praying for your friend’s eternal rest.
Meeya’s last blog post..TTBA
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thanks, mee. neil gaiman’s death was actually the inspiration for this. it’s no comparison, though
[Reply]