It’s me or him.
I enter the old man’s house, it’s quiet and a little musty.There aren’t any lights on but there’s a hint of fresh cigar smoke.My nose wrinkles, I loathe the smell of smoke, but especially cigar smoke.It’s thick and bitter and sticks in your throat.
I find him in the living room, a side lamp lit but turned to the dimmest setting.The room is choking on cigar smoke, but he continues to puff on the end of the stub anyway.
“You ready?”
He shakes his head.“Is anyone ever ready?”
I huff out a laugh.“Nope.”I move to stand behind him.He flinches at the creak of leather as I take out my scythe.
“Does it hurt?”he breathes, then coughs.It’s hacking and filled with mucus.
“Change always hurts,” I say and squeeze his shoulder.It’s not the comfort he was expecting, but it is a truth.I take a deep breath and search the memories the moth left me for his name.
He laughs, it’s soft and sweet and filled with the sounds of regret.It makes my chest ache, but there’s nothing I can do for him now.Nothing other than a final offering.
“Charles Cederic Shenley, whisper your last truth and I’ll carry it to the dark with me.”
He sighs, nods and then says, “We all spend our lives searching for what matters.For that ineffable meaning.The significance that will make us feel whole.But in the end, it’s all pointless.What matters is what we choose to make matter.And that is the lesson we never learn until it’s too late.”
His words make my eyes sting.I rub his shoulder.I don’t normally, but I offer one last kindness.
“What mattered to you?”
“She did.”
It’s always love.My throat thickens; I have to swallow the lump down knowing that Lucy is what matters to me, I choose her.I choose to fix this for her.
“Charles Cederic Shenley, all debts must be paid, in silence or soul.May the weight of your choices carry you gently down.The gods forgot you, the demons won’t.Rest now.Omnia mors aequat.Death renders all equal.”
I bring my scythe to the side of his neck.I’ll make this quick for him, it’s the least I can do.I don’t know what his deal was, but he seems to have learnt his lesson and he’s taking the reaping like a champ.
I pull back and swipe hard and fast.
There’s a heavy breath.
My heart thunders in my chest.
No moths appear.
I blink.
Still no moths.
Beat.
Beat.
Beat.
Splat.
I frown.
That’s wrong.There shouldn’t be another thud.
Why is my face covered in warm stuff?
