FORESHADOWING

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Okay, without further ado (whatever 'ado' is), here is FORESHADOWING. Some flash fiction about one of my favorite guys, Death.

Foreshadowing
By Dan Dillard

I am Death. Good to meet you, and we’ll be seeing each other again soon, I promise. Keep in mind, my soon and your soon may differ. Mind my robes as you try and skirt my presence. It’s no use really, much like talking to you, you won’t hear my words. Don’t want to, I imagine.

As with most things, it really doesn’t matter. You will succumb to my whim and you will disappear, leaving behind a trace that will in itself vanish eventually. I should quantify. My eventually and your eventually are also not quite the same.

You must understand, I am in all places. Look around you, death is everywhere from the dropping autumn leaves to the carapaces of insects stuck in the grill of a passing vehicle. Thatch of deceased grass at the base of the living grass. Bodies are piled all over this rock, and all my doing.

Don’t stress, as it gets worse. You tell yourselves not to worry, to live life to its fullest. What end do you seek, I wonder? What would make it all worth it, fulfilling, satisfactory? A legacy? Again, insignificant. Most pass with no fanfare. Family and friends are upset, but it goes away after a time. Could be a lifetime for a human, but it is a flash for me, a blink. Even the most famous and infamous disappear with the passage of time. Time is really insignificant as well, because I touch all, and cause all.

Sex? It is a motivator, but not like death. I dare say I might be the single largest contributing factor to all things. Making life easier until one dies, more comfortable… even feeble attempts to extend life. It’s not that I’m letting folks live longer, merely that there are so many more of you, so it takes longer for me to reach each one, to hold you in my icy grasp. I will get to you all eventually, my eventually.

I know, I know. What about suicide, right? Can’t be my doing, it’s a choice thing. A little secret between you and I? Suicides are those who have seen my face, or seen my doing. They know the light at the end of the tunnel is only the flame of their candle just before I wink it out.

Go on, though. Please. Enjoy yourselves. Party down, because when I get back to you, there will be none of this explanation. You didn’t pay attention anyway.