#marbearwrites

The Grief Hounds circle the floor of my bedroom while Death sits calmly in my recliner. I glare at him from my bed.

"You weren't supposed to take him too."

He smiles. "Darlin', I hope you learn that some unexpected deaths happen. I'm sorry you had to go through that. But he left quickly."

"I hate you," I reply to Death.

"That's nothing new, sweetheart. I'm surprised you've turned on me is all. I thought you wanted my company, remember? Aren't you rather lonely grieving by yourself?"

"So? That doesn't change the fact that you took him away from us."

The Grief Hounds yawn lazily watching us converse back and forth. One saunters up onto my bed. His black fur, soft, underneath my fingers. He licks my face and rests his dark head in my lap.

"He had to go."

"I didn't get to tell him good morning like I always do."

Tears are welling in my eyes, but they refuse to fall.

"I know, but he knows you loved him. You can still love him. He's in a good place and not in pain."

He pauses watching His Grief Hound nuzzle into me.

"He seems to like you a lot."

"What is he?"

"A dog, can't you tell?"

"He's no dog."

"He is, but he's a special kind of creature."

"Oh?"

Death smiles as if he holds all the secrets in the world.

"Every death is different. Some are sudden and quick. Others are long waiting periods. My job isn't always fun. You should know this, by now."

Death rises from his seat and pets his Grief Hounds.

"Keep her company for a while, alright boys? She's rather lonely right now."

"Won't you need them, too?"

"No, I have a multitude of them. These two are my favorite though."

"Why are you giving them to me?"

"You need them," He states matter-of-factly.

"Do they have names?"

"No, but you can name them if you like."

Mind preoccupied with names; Death vanishes from my room.

"What kind of names do you like?"

They gaze up at me with their dark eyes. One lays beside me while the other curls up in my lap. I scratch both of their heads as we sit comfortably together.

"What about Vesper for you," I tell the one in my lap.

"And Draven for you," I tell the one wedged into my side.

Both Vesper and Draven sigh and close their eyes.

I lean back into my pillows, as I watch the Grief Hounds sleep.

"I miss you"

But in poetry, we say:

Slipping back into the shadows

In the dead of night

Lanterns aglow

As they tirelessly search

I wish you had let me be a child

Instead of expecting me to be an adult

Now I struggle to function

In the "real" world

A thousand steps

Walking hand in hand with Death

Time loses all meaning

We talk of work and the weather

But not of the waiting

He tells me

"You are more than capable of handling this when the time comes."

His words aren't comforting

His hand is warm in mine

As we circle back around the empty field

We take in the small-town scenery

"If I trade my life for his, would it make things easier?"

His smile lasts a second

But His dark eyes seem sad

For me

"No, my dear, this is not how death works. We must go when I arrive to collect."

The sun is warm on my face

Cold winds sneak through my layers

I shiver during this frigid winter season

Death halts mid-walk

Wraps me in his black cloak

Gently pats me on my back

Wiping at my falling tears

As my head droops towards my feet

His arms hold up the ragged me

To keep me from crumbling

I am not like other young women

They run to embrace love

Yet I hold back

And flee from

This feeling of passion

For I have walls up

That are not easy to destroy

Or to peer inside

And I wonder when

A man will stay

To show me love

Is not something to fear

Or to hate