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Waiting for Him

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Waiting for Him He slowly slipped a twenty pound note under the gap in the door and put his ear to the door. He wasn't worried about the change, but he wanted to make sure the delivery boy had left. After hearing the fading crunch of feet on snow, he decided to wait five minutes more before he got his food. Just in case. Four latches were pulled back, each one making him feel more and more queasy, exposing him to the world outside, each one making it easier for Him to get in. Closing his eyes, he shot a hand to grab the carrier bags outside his doorstep, and brought them in. A can fell out, but he left it outside. It was lost now. He locked the door, and did the latches. He took the food downstairs, one bag at a time gripping the metal railing tight. He didn't really mind making the extra trips up and down the stairs, he didn't want to fall. He looked inside the bags, making sure everything he wanted was there. Two cans of baked beans. ...read more.


Smiling people. Happy people. He looked at a man, twenty years ago, who looked like himself, but alive. The man in the photo was smiling, next to his wife. His wife wore a second hand wedding dress, but she somehow made the stains disappear, the dirty white, white. He remembered how they danced at their wedding twenty years ago, and how happy had they had been. Before death had taken her away in their eleventh year of marriage, placed a clammy hand over her nose and stopped her breathing. He closed the book, and looked at his wrinkled hands. He was sixty three now, old and scared. What if Death came in the night, took him and that was it? Just empty oblivion, dark and silent, completely alone. He wrapped his arms around himself, and tried to fall asleep. And so, he went on, trying to delay his next loneliness as long as he could. Until he heard the singing. It was morning, but it was still dark. He thought it was February, but he wasn't sure. Something had awoken him. He could hear someone. ...read more.


As he unlocked the latches, he felt different. Faint, almost as if he were stepping out into another world. He pulled open the door, and white snow fell onto his slippers. It was cold, but he did not seem to mind. He could only see her. He walked towards her, his slippers wet, his feet cold. Everything was illuminated with a white glow, everything was beautiful. It was like time had stopped, and the only two things he could hear were his wife singing and the crunch of his feet on the snow. He felt the brown coat he was wearing, melt into the black tuxedo he had worn on his wedding night, the wrinkles on his face pulling back into an ageless state, where he could almost smile again. His wife extended her hand, and as he took it he realised he was looking into the smiling face of death, not frightening, but beautiful, timeless: his wife's. Her hand was neither hot or cold to the touch, but empty and complete at the same time. This was death. As they began their dance of eternity he didn't even see the dead body of the old man he had left below in his previous tomb, and for the first time in a long time he smiled. Kugan Vijayatharan 11R ...read more.

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