The Nature Of Lies

• Luximypratha Eswaran, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2018

Life and Death sit side by side on the grass. Where Life sits, the grass is greener, and little blooms decorate the ground. Where Death sits, the earth is blackened, and try as she might, even Life cannot coax growth. There is such a stark difference between them- Death with his unblinking black eyes and scaled horns; and Life, who has flowers curling from her head and entire galaxies trapped in her eyes. Little birds and butterflies flit around her head in such a way that they form a gauzy, winged headdress. A snake curves around her throat and arms, venom dripping from its open jaws. Life does not mind. She takes pride in all of her creations. She is like a jeweller in that aspect, wrapping herself in her own elaborate ornaments, regardless of their monstrosity. Life is beauty and emotions and the little moments that become treasured memories.

Death is like a shadow; granite-hewn features and a scythe for reaping souls perpetually held between long, tapered fingers ending in curving talons. Life and Death are two sides of the same coin: creation and destruction, oppression and liberation, light and dark.
The snake wrapped around Life has paused all movement, going still as Life looks up at Death’s face suddenly. There is an odd, feral gleam in her eye that she gets when she is going in for the kill.

“Why is it that I am loved, and you are hated?” She asks.

Her tone is so innocuous that he almost misses the jab. The question throws him off and it takes a moment for him to find his voice, but to Life it must seem like he is in deep thought. He has never been more grateful for the indifferent mask he wears when he is in her company.
“Because you are a lie. Lovely and sweet but a lie, nonetheless. A beautiful, hopelessly foolish, heartbreaking lie.”

And that is the truth. Because she is a lie. However kind as she may seem, she is even crueller. She is the master of everything in this world, free to make and break new toys as she pleases. No one but Death knows that when she smiles, her fangs are like roses; dark red with blood from the thorns in her throat.

But for every life she makes, he takes. After all, in the cruel world that she has created, he is the only liberation.

“And mortals will cling to lies- cling to ignorance, even if I am the only truth in this world.”

Life leaves after that, throwing something at his feet. Peering down, he sees that it is the snake she was playing with, its head splayed at an odd, unnatural angle. Sighing, Death picks up his scythe.