Mary
stands still, imagining that her feet can feel the cold wood floor. For
the first time that she can remember, the house is silent: no ghost
whispering threats and promises to her, nothing skittering in the
shadows, no echoes from the living world. No children playing. No
children.
"They're cute boys, aren't they?"
She turns:
it's a girl, white skin and black hair, black around her eyes and a
silver symbol hanging on her neck. "Are they..." Mary starts to ask.
"They're safe," the girl says. "It's gone. It's time for you to go,
too."
"The other one isn't gone."
"It's gone from here, Mary. It hasn't been here since the night you
died."
She
clenches her fists and curls her toes to grip the floor, but she can
feel herself growing thin. "But I was right, wasn't I? They needed me.
They still need me."
"You kept them safe," the girl says gently. "It's time for you to go."
"But I..."
"Now." The girl holds out her hands.
She wants to take them, she's ready to follow, when a thought stops
her. "What about John?"
"He's
not here either." Mary stands still, trying not to notice how tired she
is, how quiet the house has become. The girl sighs. "OK. What about
him?"
"Someone has to watch out for him."
The girl is quiet for a moment. "Mary, do you know who I am?"
She nods and names her. "Death."
"And you want me to look after your husband."
"I
don't have anyone else to ask." She isn't sure, but she thinks Death
smiles at that. "And I remember... the first time, you let me stay
here."
"You're weak now, Mary. If you stay, you'll fade to nothing, not even
memory."
"I'll go with you now, if you promise to look after John."
"John's
been mine for almost twenty-three years," the girl says. "I'll watch
him for you." Mary reaches out and takes her hands, and the girl
smiles, suddenly, wicked and reassuring all at once. "Does he like
goldfish?"
end
Title from
"The man who was tired of
life," a Middle Egyptian poem more famous among fans for being quoted
by Gaiman in one of the early Sandman issues: Death is before
me today, like the recovery of a sick man, like the going forth into a
garden after sickness...
All
recognizable characters and
elements are the property of
their respective creators. I make no claim to ownership of or profit
from previously copyrighted materials. Original elements are my own.