Death's Warmth

Excellence Award in the 'Horizon of Dreams 2018' competition

Warmth.
There was time when he never felt it.
He was darkness. Drenched, engulfed, drowned within obsidian.
He was numb. The poison of feelings never touched him.
He was cold. Hands, threadbare, feeling only cold.
Everyone had been cold, hands lifeless.
In eternity, he felt hands twice.
And held once.

First was screams.
She was shrieking, shards of words. Then came screams, primitive ones, raw pain shaking her being. Face flushed, matted hair plastered, rivulets of perspiration, dilated grey eyes bloodshot in sterile hospital light. She was screaming out her life. He couldn’t recall anything; only hazily picture her life spilling out, the life of a girl finally starting in life. Her breathless body contorted, hands clawing at her heart, arms flailing, slapping, grabbing. Desperate fear. Her hand skimmed his. He watched as her life burst out, overbeating. The sensation of cold sticky sheens of sweat stuck.

Second was silent.
He was beautiful that moment. Ebony locks osculating, misty-eyed, alabaster skin toned limpid azure. Light fell, shafts aquiver in vivid sapphire dimming towards caliginous eternity. The waves raged above, and silence raged below: unheard screams, muted cries. Water poured into him, filling him, his silent struggles. His life, effervescence, rose mockingly to air. He reached out, as though to pull himself there too. Life of adventure, golden days and purple nights of laughter. The arm fell, hand fleetingly brushing against his. His blue lips parted, last bubbles escaping. Tinted sorrow. The ice seeped through his veins as the ocean claimed those frozen fingers.

Third was … surprising.
She was a creature of joy. She had happiness carved onto her wrinkle mottled skin and brilliant eyes ancient as time bright as the heavens. Age weighed heavily over her though she wore it with pride, of one who weathered life. Only her breaths and pitter-pattering heartbeat betrayed her.
She was saying something, cotton-wool voice coming in unsure gasps.
“Mama … papa …?”
She reached, hands grappling blindly with the rustle of skeletal branches. His eyes widened as her hand found his, entwining her wizened fingers with his.
He watched as her star-clustered eyes cleared and her life spilt.
A girl’s life, pink-tinged with parents, laughing in a world of tinted sepia. Until they left, taking her world. He watched the world saturate. As she stood, alone. Waiting.
He watched as the girl waited.
An eternity.
And smiling. Smiling through all.
Age swelled once more within her eyes. Tears. There were tears budding as darkness settled, her life dripping sluggishly down sagging cheeks.
“M-mama … papa, I’m …”
She croaked, hands gripping tighter. Crinkled lips tilted succinctly up.
“Home…”
Her eyes closed; she rested with a ghost of a smile on her face. Happiness of reunion.
Death paused, holding her hand as the last drops of life ebbed out of her.
They were
Warm.

There was time when he had never felt warmth. But now...
He was still dark, cold, numb. Just now, it's different. Like a water-bled inkspot. Not changed. Just
Warmer.

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