He's a Mean One, Mr. Death

February 6, 2008
By Cindi Adkins, Ashton, WV

It was a misty, rainy, chilly day. I had just been picking up some bread at our small town’s bakery. As I stepped onto the sidewalk, I noticed across the street was a elderly man standing. He was wearing jeans and a green plaid shirt with a long black trench coat and a black bowler hat. He was staring down at his feet; the man looked as though he was about cross but had to wait on the traffic only there were no vehicles on the road ahead of him. I kept walking though my eyes never strayed from the man.

I was watching him intensely though he wasn’t doing anything. Then, he looked up at me. I had a weird feeling rush through my body. I was scared…and I couldn’t understand why.

I hurried into the general store. I had to get some toothpaste and shampoo. I grabbed it all quick. As I made my way to the cash register, I looked out the store window for the man and he was gone. In my mind, I was relieved for he could have just been thinking or something but doubt hit me. That little old man had scared me and I was putting him as the Grim Reaper− I was being crazy for he reminded me of death.

When I reached the cash register, I was taken for the man was the last person in line. I wanted to run but I told myself that I was being silly and I took a place behind him.

He was humming happily. It was the same melody over and over again. I guess that I am inventive because words to that melody sprung into my mind.

This will be the last of your days.

It fit the melody of the man’s humming. My hands were shaking. That was Death in front of me and I was sure that he was here for me.

The cashier checked Death out and as I put my stuff on the counter, he stopped on his way to the door.

“Daniel Merek? Am I right?” He asked as he turned and looked at me.

The cashier was completely oblivious as I nodded though it was really my head shaking from fear.

“Nice to meet you.” He said before leaving.

I paid the cashier; she had to snap the money out of my shaking hands. I grabbed my bag and left the store.

I didn’t see the man. I began to cross the street to my truck. When I was half way across, I saw the man. He was standing beside my truck waving at me as though saying goodbye. I stopped where I was standing and the man opened his mouth.

“This will be the last of your days.” Filled my ears and mind so completely that I didn’t see the two blaring lights coming at me.

The End.

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