On the cusp of Life

”…It’s like death. You know? It’s like a man loses, gives himself away. It’s like he perishes, but he doesn’t die. He is reborn for a new life.”

© Anhel de Kuate — “All your life you’ve been waiting.”

***

      Undertaker enjoyed those rare moments of serenity when he could just sit alone in his shop, listen to the silence and finally feel at peace.              Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he thought for the first time in many years that he might be getting older: until now, the years had passed without his participation, as if he were caught somewhere in space, unable to follow mortals who meant something to him, and unable to protect them.              That was when he thought of Her. He had known many more or less interesting people, but amazingly none of them had ever caught his eye the way She had. Oh gods, at that moment he couldn’t understand how he had managed to live so long without this woman by his side. What was he doing then? What thoughts occupied his mind most of the time? As a reaper, he had a job to do, a job that needed to be done. But what had happened after he left? He couldn’t remember; of course there must have been something, but it was as if all previous memories had been replaced.              Replaced by new ones, ones that included Her.              Undertaker smiled to himself, and the reflection in the mirror did the same. Yes, he was probably aging, there was no other explanation.              He walked over to the massive coffin, running his fingers over the thin braid braided in his hair. Leaning against the coffin, he looked around, noticing how many cobwebs were in the corners of the walls — it only added more grotesque to the atmosphere. It was so funny: all you had to do was place a few coffins and candles and then let the spiders and dust 'mess around' and you were ready — one of the scariest places in all of London.              People were really amused, really thinking that if they avoided a personality they were uncomfortable with, he wouldn’t prey on them.              The sound of heels on the wooden floor echoed as Undertaker maneuvered between the coffins and admired their beauty. He was certainly good at his job, being a professional. As he always had been.              A sudden thought occurred to him as he passed one of the most elegant coffins in his shop, one that would likely be destined for a young lady of good taste. The smile disappeared from the man’s lips as his mind inadvertently made him picture Her lying on the soft satin with her eyes closed, arms crossed over her chest, wearing the elegant dress in which Undertaker himself had dressed her. The mind almost scoffed at the image in his head, but still the reaper chased the thoughts away with a quick shake of his head from side to side.              No, this definitely shouldn’t happen. Never. And he must take it upon himself to prevent it.              Chuckling quietly, Undertaker retreats to the back room.              Well, maybe he wasn’t getting older like he thought.              Maybe it’s something else…