There, in the distance, the old man thought he saw a fair damsel. He squinted his eyes and tried to focus. There are things you don’t get to see everyday!
“She’s coming this way!”, he thought incredulously. Indeed, the damsel was approaching him rapidly with a wry smile… if that ever so slight curve of her mouth could be called that. She came to him and extended her hand. Her hand. There were no lines on it. It was smooth and the fingers were long, slender. Slowly, carefully, the old man touched her fingertips. They were ultra cold for half a second but soon they warmed up.
“Who are you?”, he asked.
“Death”, she replied.
“You’re beautiful. I imagined you to be a like a lot of things but never this. You’re beautiful.”
She smiled. This time, it was a defined, definite smile. She regarded his face. He looked shaken, a little scared, but ready and awed too. She told him to close his eyes. He obeyed.
After a second, Death let go of the old man’s hand. His soul must have gone home by now. Death then slowly assumed the form of a little boy child with gleaming eyes and sunshine hair and proceeded north where a woman lay on the bed, waiting.
Sometimes, Death loved its job.