He was right at the edge, where someone was still alive, but barely. When you are dead but still breathing. Somewhere in between worlds, where one can see and be hurt by both realms. He was surrounded by loved ones, people I had never met and who took care of him there, where I couldn’t reach his soul.

It wasn’t his first time here, neither what they call the afterlife nor completely alive. However, this time was different, he wasn’t able to fight back, too old and too tired to continue alive.

We were old friends; he knew me better than anyone, but still not quite enough. He had only seen me waiting patiently where he was fighting to stay among the living. Either during his reckless youth or taking care of the ones who went before him.

It wasn’t until then that he knew where he was, where tangible things seem to vanish, that he realized I’ve been waiting for him ever since we first met, in a faraway sea a lifetime ago.

He smiled when he saw me, nearer as his last breaths were exhaled. “I guess I’ll finally see you without the hood”.

I was surprised he remembered the first words we exchanged, when he asked to see my face, to look into most people’s greatest fear in the eye. Never has anyone asked me for that favor. Some begged me to give them mercy or time, others to take them with me. Most simply look at me, with pure and fiery rage in their eyes, as if I was the one responsible for their sorrows and death, even though I’m neither of both. My one and only task is to light their way to where they must be. I never choose, like the torch that lights your way in a labyrinth, never responsible for the path you choose and never should be blamed.

The room filled with cries as his already weak body gave out his final breath, leading him to the only path he hadn’t explored yet. Once he chose this path, the weakness in his body abandoned his spirit, giving him back the strength he used to hold.

I let some minutes pass so that taking in everything wouldn’t be so hard. Sadness filled his features as he realized he had lost them, although not even a single tear fell; he knew what had happened and had been prepared since our first meeting. Since he asked to see myself without the hood everyone pictures me in. The symbol of who I was. The one I dropped just enough time for him to take a general picture of my face. Neither a skull nor emptiness, but something more alike to a woman, however not completely it.

Surprise filled his face, as he couldn’t believe his eyes, as he had had to see something that wasn’t there. 

“Why don’t you correct them?”, he said simply.

“Rare is the case when I’m seen by someone who comes back, and if they do, they’ve never truly feared death. It is easier to be hated as someone who you are not than to be feared for someone you are”

“Then I hope they change their minds as time passes”.

“I hope so too, but long is the list of people who won’t. However we should get going, yours is a long journey ahead and lots of people’s time has come while we talked. Despite how it may sound, Death has work to do”.

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Texto por JULIA RESANO (4ºD ESO)
Ilustración por ANDREA PÉREZ (ALUMNI)