Meeting Death

1

I first met Death when she came for my hamster. I was six and it was summer. Mr. Squiggles had escaped his cage and eaten my Play-doh while I was playing outside. When I returned, she stood there over him, pulling his soul from his body with two delicately long fingers. An apparition of Mr. Squiggles popped from his body and shook itself. He ran around her and she silently giggled. Spotting me, he ran through open air and into my hair, a sweet breeze replacing his usual nuzzles. He pranced in front of me as if to say, "look at me, look at me, I can fly."

Death watched, tall and reedy, all dressed in blue. Blue. The color of Mr. Squiggles favorite hamster ball. She was eerily beautiful. Affection gleamed in her eyes, and I wasn't afraid. I never had been, I realized. I knew she would take good care of Mr. Squiggles. I knew her intentions were good. Death nodded an "it's time to go" nod and I kissed Mr. Squiggles on the head before watching him run back to Death. With a final leap, he landed in her outstretched hands.

"Goodbye, Mr. Squiggles. I love you," I heard my voice say. Death tipped her head in goodbye and they evaporated, taking my calm understanding with them. Bursting into uncontrollable sobs I ran to my mom, burying my face in her apron. We buried Mr. Squiggles in the garden and the flowers the next spring were extra vibrant.