The Visitor

As night was falling and a storm approaching, I sat alone, pen in hand, contemplating the story that had been forming in my mind.  A warm fire, crackling on the hearthstone, relaxed me, despite the occasional flash of lightning, clap of thunder and not-so-gentle rain that had just begun to fall. 

The patter of the rain against the windows made a soothing background noise, creating the perfect atmosphere for writing my next mystery novel.  I had just begun to put my thoughts on paper when they were interrupted by a light tapping upon the front door – so light that I waited for a repeated sound, to ascertain it wasn’t imagined.  Slowly, I rose and walked to the door.

The specter that confronted my sight, in the yellow glow of the light above my entry, was straight out of my worst nightmare.  A hooded figure, over 7’ tall, covered, to the floor, by a dark robe with only a dark hole for a face, hovered there.

I blanched, feeling the blood leave my face and settle in my feet and stood, with mouth agape, staring at the apparition before me.  Frozen, I could not speak and though I saw no lips move, heard in my mind “ I see that my visit is unexpected, yet, may I come in?”

I closed my mouth, swallowed, stepped back into my home and held the door for my uninvited guest.  The apparition glided into the room and stopped next to the fire, extending skeletal fingers from sleeves in its robe as if warming them above the flame.

It spoke again in my mind “ I have read your previous novels with interest and have come to proffer insights to you for the one you currently plan.” “Would you be so kind as to give me a synopsis of the next as you envision it?” 

Recovering some from my pallor, I offered my guest a chair and a glass of the nice claret I had opened as I sat down to write.  

We sat there next to the fire as I relayed the basics of the story that had been floating around in my consciousness and my dreams,  “My protagonist, Eddie, a good man, has lived a full life.  He is alone in his home, when a flash of light in his brain initiates a rerun of his life from childhood.  The book, so far, is a reiteration of Eddie’s life. I’ve not decided whether his life ends or he is to be saved.  He is, of course, an old man at this point in my imagining of his story.” 

The apparition responded in my mind “ Be aware that Death is not always to be feared.  Those who have embraced life to its fullest will find Death to be a comforting companion upon the next part of their journey from this world”.

We sat, drinking wine, this apparition and I, next to my fire for most of the night, speaking, me to the air, the apparition to my mind until, near dawn, the apparition arose and I heard in my mind, “Thank you for a most pleasant evening and a very nice claret.  You have been a most gracious host and I hope that I have given you insights that may be useful in your future writing.”

I thanked Death for it’s insights, as I saw it to my door, where it recovered the scythe it had propped there and before departing, offered it’s skeletal hand and a final reminder to live life fully and not to fear.

 

(I updated this from one of our earlier prompts)

Joe Rowe