[locked] death is kind to the tired ones
The angel of death understands.
She accepts and she welcomes and she extends the branch of death unto others that must go with it.
Death is not something to be escaped. It is warmth meant to be greeted with open arms. Death is a kind light at the long end of the tunnel, the last line at the last page of a storybook, the goodbye one always has to learn to say sooner or later. The angel does not fear the goodbyes. She does not grieve the kindness. She knows the real pity must go to the living that remain long after the peaceful ones have been lowered to the ground to merge with dirt and dust and ash. A city of bones below.
After she saw the death of Elizabeth Jules two days ago, Sarah has not moved from her spot at the building opposite Josef and Elizabeth's. The angel does not care if Sarah is tired or sad or scared. The angel does not care if Sarah needs to eat or sleep or go to school. Death is close by and the angel must always greet it first. It comes first before anything and anyone.
The wings are out as Sarah walks down the street in between the two buildings.
The wings form larger-than-life shadow patterns on the pavement as she moves, her steps purposeful and calm. Steady.
The angel waits as the sound, the familiar sound echoes in her head, signaling the close arrival. The sound of a ticking clock, the sound of a fading heartbeat--it is something akin to the distant sound of drums of war, right before the war is lost.
She continues to walk down the empty street, awaiting Death before it comes.
It always does.
She accepts and she welcomes and she extends the branch of death unto others that must go with it.
Death is not something to be escaped. It is warmth meant to be greeted with open arms. Death is a kind light at the long end of the tunnel, the last line at the last page of a storybook, the goodbye one always has to learn to say sooner or later. The angel does not fear the goodbyes. She does not grieve the kindness. She knows the real pity must go to the living that remain long after the peaceful ones have been lowered to the ground to merge with dirt and dust and ash. A city of bones below.
After she saw the death of Elizabeth Jules two days ago, Sarah has not moved from her spot at the building opposite Josef and Elizabeth's. The angel does not care if Sarah is tired or sad or scared. The angel does not care if Sarah needs to eat or sleep or go to school. Death is close by and the angel must always greet it first. It comes first before anything and anyone.
The wings are out as Sarah walks down the street in between the two buildings.
The wings form larger-than-life shadow patterns on the pavement as she moves, her steps purposeful and calm. Steady.
The angel waits as the sound, the familiar sound echoes in her head, signaling the close arrival. The sound of a ticking clock, the sound of a fading heartbeat--it is something akin to the distant sound of drums of war, right before the war is lost.
She continues to walk down the empty street, awaiting Death before it comes.
It always does.