I open my eyes to a chilled gray room,

Fog was rolling low along the tiled floor
Surrounding my pale body.
It seems to freeze me in place,
the oxygen in my lungs halting.

The fog thickens
And a chill fills the air.
Shivering in nothing but pants and a tank top.
I scramble to my feet, waiting for something
To jump out of the thick mist.

A burst of wind hits my face; I squint.
The tap of a cane breaks the silence as
A dark figure slowly makes its way towards me.
I know I should feel scared, but
Instead I feel an eerie calm enter my bones.

The figure gets closer and
He leans towards me,
Bowing and grasping my hand.
He kisses my knuckles and greets me.
“Hello, I am Death.”

He looks as if he was ripped from a painting.
His face kind and gentle, black coat and top hat,
A cane to match. A Victorian era businessman.
I should be afraid, I know I should
But his demeanor shows no threat.

Death removes his hat,
Throwing it into the mist,
The cane soon following.
Neither makes a sound when they land
in the murky fog.

He reaches into the inside pockets of his coat
Pulling out two roses, one red and one white.
He holds them oh so delicately
His leather glove-clad hands caressing the stems.
His hands shift closer to me, offering the flowers.
I do nothing but stare,
Wondering what they are for, why I was here,
Why he was here.
He only smiles gently.
“Pick one” his velvet voice soothing my questioning.

I reach for a rose before pausing.
Words at the tip of my tongue,
Begging to burst free.
“I’m dead aren’t I?”
I barely recognize my own voice as it escapes.

Death seems to expect it and lowers the blossoms.
Smiling sadly, he responds.
“Yes.
Though I wish you weren’t.
I never wanted to see you this soon.”

I feel my eyes widen in surprise.
I had forgotten why I was here,
Why I wasn’t in my bed.
My eyes tear up and I nod.
I finally remembered.

Death loses his smile, his eyes softening.
Sadness fills them as he once more holds the roses for me.
I look into Death’s face,
How he looks nothing like I thought he would.
My hand unconsciously reaches for a flower.

Grasping the stem, a thorn pricks my finger.
Looking at the red rose in my grip,
I again smile softly at it, then at Death.
He smiles back gently, taking my hand
and kissing it once more. My vision turns cloudy
and I feel myself lifting.
I welcome the eternal peace.