09. The man who wished to marry Death

AN: Read at your own risk! Might include bad language or disturbing images. The 9th story of the 10 small stories. You can find the rest at my blog. Enjoy and comment!


“If death looked as beautiful as you, I would have died a thousand times just to be able to look at your face.”

A woman was standing in front of the window. The room was dark, darker than oil, darker than the starless night that was outside. He was standing next to the close door and the only thing he could see was her silhouette against the light coming in through the window. She was wearing a tight, black dress and high black heels. She was smoking long slim cigarettes, the smoke was visible in an unearthly way and the tip of it shone red with ash and fire. Her silvery hair were caught up in a tight bun, not a single hair was out of its intended place. The few light was reflected on her hair, making her look like she had a crown made out of tears.

When she slowly turned towards him, his heart skipped a beat. Her full, red lips curved slightly, as if she could hear the man’s heartbeat. The dark man felt his heart race and the beats sounded like drums. When she moved towards him, he noticed the white skin on her flesh. His heart skipped a beat. When she looked him with her almond shaped, dark eyes, he could not break away from her intense stare, a stare that pierced right through his heart. His heart missed another beat. When she slowly moved close to him he felt his flesh burn with desire. His heart missed a beat. When she leaned forward to kiss him, he felt his mind would burst, his body would become fluid. His heart raced with fear and anticipation the kiss, but she stopped a few millimeters away from his skin.

Death wasn’t a toy for young men, he knew that now. He should have known it that it was a dangerous path to take, a path that led to a dead end. He should have known that. But he was in love. He was in love with Death itself. Few people could see Death, realize its breathtaking beauty. Few men could feel the passion for it, few men could feel her touch on their soul. But once they felt her eyes gaze into her soul, they always sought her, even though they did know why they were following that course. The same was for the Red Lord that John owed so much to. The Lord was the one wreaking havoc in John’s little gipsy caravan, just find her touch. She was there and even though the Red Lord was too blind to see her, he saw her. And ever since he wished to marry her.

Death was dangerous, as the Old Crone had told him. Death gripped at you and once she had her teeth of steel into your soul nothing could help you escape. He knew that now. ”How can I find her?” he had arrogantly asked her.

“On a village by the sea cliff, at the other end of the Dessert, there is a girl living with her sister. She weeps tears of blood, tears of fire and tears that are steaming hot. You must collect them all and one more” was her response.

“What is the other thing?”

“Her soul. It must fly to me”. John hesitated for a moment and he could feel her eyes mocking him.


And so he had done, he had gain her trust, knowing that would make it easier for him to collect the tears, the young girl gave everything for him. And then, she flew as she was nudged to do by him. The girl had potential to become a great witch, maybe even better than her. Was the Old Crone afraid that she would take her place and thus wanted her dead? Was she collecting young girl’s souls to avoid the Death’s kiss? He had heard that she avoided for too long, but death comes for all. But he did not care. He wanted to meet Death and Death was here. Death was paid with the tears.

“What do you want John?” Death breathed those words against his lips.

“I want to marry you. I want to be with you. I want to be your eternal husband. Please take me with you.” John begged, hoping that his quest would have won her over. He had offered her the tears, he had offered her an infant’s life.

“I have an eternal husband. Life is my other half. But I will grand you your wish to take you with me”. When she kissed him fully on the lips he felt a strange sensation run through his spine. His heart forgot how to beat.

Your lips tasted like the sweetest summerwine. Your mouth tasted of honey and almonds; your lips where softer than silk; your smell reminded me of hot summer nights. I would die another thousands times just to kiss you again.



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