A stranger once asked me if I knew Death, so I thought about his question. I said we were not close friends, though, we certainly were acquainted. I met him first while still a child; He stood beside my Grandpa's coffin. Somber and stately in sable-robed attire, He bowed his head when I looked his direction.
The stranger scowled; he said I was mistaken, that Death's a tyrant seeking Man's destruction.
Yet, I disagreed. Though, Death seems greedy, He merely picks us up and dusts us off when Life loses interest, casting us aside like old toys: broken and forgotten.
YOU ARE READING
This Heart Got Teeth
Short StoryDrabbles. Flash fiction. Shorts. One shots. Call them what you will. Conatined here are stories that come and go quickly, passing in barely the span of a blink. Catch them if you can.
