Date: Fri, 27 Apr 2007 03:26:19 -0700 (PDT)
From: Simon Jimenez <jimenezsmn@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Tender Mercy of Death    Chapter One

This is a completely fictional work by me, made up entirely by me. Don't
read if its illegal for you to, blah blah blah. yeah, you know the drill.
If you like what you see, or don't, I'm very open to comments, so feel free
to send them over to jimenezsmn at yahoo dot com. If I get hate mail, I
just might cry.

Copyright 2007.


1. What Dreams May Come


Melting droplets of water beaded and jerked down a long icicle which hung
from an overhead tree branch. My eyes followed each drop pushing the other
forward down the slope, until finally they hung off the curved tip of the
ice. I waited for stretched minutes until the molecules threw in the towel
and let go of the ice, allowing the droplet of water to free fall through
the cold stilted air. The drop hit red liquid, disturbing the stillness in
my puddle of blood. More drops continued to descend into the lake of red
which flowed free from my scalp, into the many crevasses of ice, then down
into the gutters of the road.

It was night. Nobody in this suburban neighborhood ventures out at night,
not on ones as cold as this, where your breath forms crystals in mid
air. Then why was I out? Simple; I didn't want to be in my house anymore,
so I left. Everything I held close was now in the brown leather suitcase
that lay next to me on the thick layers of icy winter. I should've looked
where I was going, for sure. But when you're running away from home, you'll
find that your mind isn't focused on where you're stepping.

My thoughts before I slipped and smashed my head into the jagged ice
revolved mainly around where I could crash for the night. I couldn't stay
with Susie. Her mom didn't like most of her friends, doubly so for
me. Definitely not Jack. I could stand sleeping on his Pringles encrusted
floor, but not his uncle. His fists hurt more than Dad's. I considered
Molly, but I quickly remembered that she was a no go. She was in
Connecticut visiting her perfect family.

None of that mattered though. I couldn't feel my legs or my hands. No
matter the pure force of will I drained from every last sweat, no amount of
energy could lift me up off the frozen ground. In my mind, I panicked, as I
couldn't move my mouth. I couldn't call for help. I was stuck surrounded by
houses full of people, with slow certain death bleeding from my head, and
no hope to save me.

It's amazing how much you're able to think in such a condition. I thought
about Gwyn, my sister. How she was probably crying now that I had run away,
and how my parents didn't even care. I wish I could tell her I was only
down the street, with my arm hanging off the curve of where our old school
bus stop used to be. It wasn't to be though. I sucked at telepathy.

My thoughts turned to Brody. I wondered if he was still at the hospital
with his mom, playing bridge, her favorite game. If he was making that same
annoying victory dance each time he won. I smiled inside, betting that once
in a while, his mind turned from his mom quick enough to see a picture of
me, waiting for him to call. I didn't tell him I was running away today. I
hadn't even considered staying at his house. Never would I want him to take
pity on me.

But, again, that didn't matter. None of it mattered. I could feel my head
become so much lighter as my wine of life spread throughout the Barnes'
front lawn. The world became lighter, even though it was near midnight. My
cheeks felt warm.

Then, footsteps began to crack over the frozen asphalt. I could sense my
head turn ever so slightly, catching sight of a dark figure that slowly
came into view. The blood became insignificant as I faced an elderly woman
wrapped in a heavy brown cloth; only, huge black wings had erupted out of
her back like a blooming rose. They were wings of night; a beautiful,
fearsome visage.

She stooped down so that her gnarly nose was inches from mine. Her breath
caressed my face in gentle wisps. It smelt of crushed lilacs and
hydrangeas. She spoke in a grainy, filtered voice that sounded like an old
radio.

"Harbor, is it?" She knew my name.

Suddenly, I could speak, but only in a crying whisper. "Yes."

Her spidery fingers combed through the thick mess of brown hair that had
begun to clump together due to the frozen blood. She straightened my hair
out, gently tugging it away from my scalp, cleaning off bits of me that had
become entangled in it. I could not feel what she did to me, only see
it. And see it I did, in curious fascination.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Her hands drew back and stroked a tear that had begun to drip down my
temple.

"Harbor... I'm sorry, but, you are going to die tonight."

Another tear replaced the one she wiped away. "Figured as much. It's not
like anyone is coming to help me anytime soon." I squinted my eyes, trying
to make out her more defined features. She looked intensely familiar. "Who
are you?"

"I'm the angel of death, Harbor."

I coughed a laugh. Another droplet of water hit my blood. "Always thought
you'd be a little more intimidating."

"For some people, I am." She whispered in serene calm as she combed her
fingers through my hair. "I embody whatever the fated person deserves. For
you, I am what was lacking in your life, a tender adult."

"Yeah..." My eyes melted in tears. "Could've used one of those..."

Death smiled. "Well, I'm here now."

I closed my eyes, shutting away the pain of night, and welcoming the bliss
of ignorance. All I felt was her gentle stroke of hair, her warm breath,
the still night. I felt a peace that had left eons ago, revolving through
and out my young slow drumming heart.

Then she spoke.

"I want you to think, Harbor, of everyone you know here in this world of
Real." She swiped another tear. "Who will you miss most?"

Thousands of names flashed through my mind, most were people in school I
knew. My parents' names were not on my list. Neither was Johnny, that
bastard bully in the seventh grade, or Melvin, the boy who drowned himself
in self pity. No, only one name burned through my skull and out my mouth.

"Brody."

"Would you like to see him one more time?" She asked. I was reminded of
when my grandmother would ask me if I wanted yet another cookie, when my
mom wasn't looking of course. I always took. "I can do that for you."

"Why for me?"

She smiled, giving way to a row of craggy teeth. "For the dying good, any
last requests are possible. But you must ask for them before the time is
up." Her black beady eyes stayed on mine, waiting for a response. A gentle
silence flew in with a gust of bitter wind, and left down the main
road. "What do you request, good soul?"

"To see Brody again." My voice came through clear, like it would any other
day. Death closed her wrinkled eyelids over her pearly black dates, and
took one slow deliberate breath. It seemed to last forever. Wisps of steam
kept flowing from her mouth until all I could see was grey matter.

Soft, fuzzy, and grey.


                                                                                  *


Alive. I was Alive. Instantly, I had control of my body again. I stretched
my legs out. I pulled my arms backward. My hand explored my scalp, which
was now devoid of anything violent. I felt my face smile again. Warmth
exploded through my body as the grey matter separated and dispersed,
landing me softly in the middle of a glowing hospital corridor.

A wrinkled hand found its way on my shoulder.

"He's waiting for you." She whispered. "You have five minutes." She gently
pushed me forward. "Go."

As soon as that green light was spoken, my hand drew itself out and onto
the circular knob that would open the door to room 55F. Brody was on the
other side of this door.

That realization brought my thoughts to full circle. What was I going to
say to him? What could I say? There were so many things and only five
minutes... Five minutes. What could I possibly say in five minutes?

With a troubled mind, I entered. The door brought a breeze from the hallway
into the bedroom, blowing my hair slightly wayward. My eyes had to adjust
to the sudden wave of light that hit me as I stepped inside. I felt so
cold. I never liked it in here.

His mom was asleep in bed, her blonde threads tied back into a fine
tail. That looked like his work. He himself was dozing off as well. None
had noticed that I had entered. My feet found their ground in front of the
chair he slept in. Brody looked so peaceful; I didn't want to wake him. But
when he mouthed my name in his sleep, nothing could stop me from shaking
his shoulder.

"Brod... dude, wake up." He suddenly woke up and slapped my hand away, then
looked instantly sorry as he realized who I was. He started
laughing. "Sorry, Harbor.... didn't know it was you." He began to rub his
eyes. "What are you doing here?"

And there it was. The question for which I had no answer. Well, no answer I
wanted to give him. I really had no business for being there, as I knew he
liked to spend this time alone with his mom. I felt bad for interrupting
it, but this was much too important, even though I had absolutely nothing
to say.

"I--" I stopped. What was I doing? There was no way to explain
everything. No time to explain that I was going to die. With this in mind,
I sighed deeply, preparing myself for my last conversation. "Can we talk
outside? Just for a couple minutes."

Brody looked back at his mom, then at me. "Um, sure, I guess."

I kept my eyes on him as we walked out the room and closed the door behind
us. The halls were stark empty, and Death was gone for the time
being. Brody leaned into the opposite wall, against a bulletin board. I
just stood in front of him, no sure what to say. A long drawn out silence
later, he decided to start.

"So, what's up?"

I started to talk about random stuff. Like, how I shot milk out of my nose
during lunch, or when I tripped down the main staircase of our school (32
steps, by the way) and was completely fine. He laughed at it all. Our
conversation took many random hooks and turns for hours. It always
did. Yet, this time, I was slightly rushed, which led me to ask him:

 "Do you remember when we were seven, and you wanted to play star command,
and I wanted to play Hide and seek?"

"Star commander is awesome."

"Uh, no... Hide and seek is awesome. Star commander blows."

His laughed rebounded off the white walls. "Is that what you want to talk
about?" He shook his head, smiling. "I remember. It was our first
fight. God... how do we remember that?"

He was right. It was strange that I could remember our entire history
together. So many memories to choose from, our whole friendship on
display. Tanks, asteroids, Nintendo, girls, music, food,
sleepovers... everything. "Yeah, well, it's just that I was thinking about
what you said to me then."

His face contorted in disbelief. "What could I have possibly said back then
that you still remember?"

"Well, when we stopped fighting, you said that you were sorry."

"People tend to say that after a fight. Even children."

My eyes rolled on reflex. "Of course. What I'm trying to say is... I've
never once apologized to you. You were always the one to apologize first. I
was always too stubborn."

"So? I never needed to hear you say it." He looked at the floor. "I always
knew when you were. Sorry, that is."

"Well, just for kicks then, I'm sorry that I never said sorry."

He looked back up at me. "Feel better now?"

I didn't answer. I just walked forward and hugged him tighter than his
piano-wire sneaker laces. He gasped from the abrupt force, but I could feel
his muscles relax after a while.

"Jesus, you hug tight." He sighed. "I'm not going anywhere, if that's what
you're worried about."

No... that wasn't it. I just wanted to remember everything about my friend
before I left this world. Of all the different memories I had collected
like fireflies in a glass jar, this one, the feel of Brody, was the one I
wanted to keep alive, even after death. Wistful remembrances and uncorked
champagne bottles flooded my mind. Goodbye, Brody.

"What do you mean, 'goodbye'?"

And I was gone. I felt as though I had woken up from a dream with life in
my hands, when in fact, I was only holding crumpled blanket. I cried as
light waves flew by my being, my soul hurtling into the great divide
between awake and dream. I could see Brody off in the distance, falling
onto the floor in surprise, calling out my name. He kept calling until all
I heard was soft radio disturbance, like sand paper on asphalt.

Suddenly, all the lights disappeared. The darkness swirled like molasses
smeared coffee, burning up into a fuzz of perpetual black. I floated among
this empty space that I assumed to be the gateway into the Next. I felt
incredibly alone, my eyes not able to scope much more than the pure
emptiness of my space.

Death's voice echoed through my hallowed space.

"This is it, Harbor. This is the end. Are you ready?"

I was still crying. The emptiness of was suffocating.

"Not nearly." I had to bend down, the tears were so heavy. A long bitter
laugh found its way out my mouth. My red eyes looked up at the dark. "Does
everyone take it this hard?"

And that was when death took me by the hand and looked me straight in the
eye. "Some do, some don't. All you need to know is this: you are doing an
amazing job, Harbor." Her soft hand held my face like a chalice. "It's a
terrible world we live in where the good die young."

"I don't want to leave." By now I was buried in her shoulder, smothering my
feelings into her bony skin. "Please... please don't let me die." Don't let
me miss my sister, my graduation, my random walks around the neighborhood,
my new job, my future house.... Brody. Don't let me miss my life...

"I'm sorry, Harbor," She said, her voice whispered and drawn, "but this is
how it all goes down."

"Please..." I begged, "I'll do anything, anything. I just want to stay
with...him."

Bottled feelings of tears and anger burst forth, causing me to grapple onto
her for support. My face burned so much, my limbs weak from trying to hold
onto this life. I just wanted to stay with Brody. Just wanted her to grant
me that one wish.

"There is a way." I looked up at her, choking back a sob. Her voice was
uncertain. She looked at me gravely. "You are a good soul. There is one
alternative for you."

"Please, what is it? I'll do anything..."

She waved her fingers in the air, mouthing strange words. A door appeared
in front of me, ornate with intricate wooden grooves and edges. A lion was
etched into the frame, spanning the entire length of the door. My hand
breezed over the strange glowing oak which felt like the surface of a
pillow.

"This is the Door of Changing." He hand grabbed my arm. "If you truly do
desire to be with your Brody, you may walk through this door, and become a
Spirit."

"I--"

"This is your only alternative. To serve under the cosmos for the rest of
time, bringing souls back home, among the stars, to fight for spirit's
balance." She stepped away, folding her arms. "What say you, good soul?
What do you request? Eternal rest or Eternal being?"

Truth be told, at the time, the only words I heard were 'with your
Brody'. I didn't hear anything about cosmos, souls, death, fighting for
spirits, whatever. Just the thought of evading death and seeing Brody again
circled my mind, controlling my hand as it pressed itself against the
wooden door, pushing forward with a strange assertive confidence.

The grey matter fluttered by, grasping me in its chilling hand. I got lost
in the thick cloud of muddy dispersion once more, until I saw the light
dawn, and I was back on the ice, breathing hard and fast. Only this time, I
was watching myself die, bleeding life onto the very roads I had once
walked.

I watched as I violently convulsed, and then stopped. I watched as the man
walking his dog found my body, and called for help. I watched as the
funeral went down, my whole family there, sitting silently, watching as my
body was lowered into the depths of earth. I watched as my parents walked
from my grave, never to return again.

But none of that mattered. What interested me the most was watching Brody
as he walked up to my grave, crying. I yelled and screamed "I'm right
here. Don't cry. I'm right here" But he cried anyway. I tried to wipe his
tears away, but my hand simply floated through.

"He can't hear you. No one can. You are not on Earth anymore, Brody." Death
walked up to me and placed her thin hand on my bare back. A shiver stabbed
my spine. "You are now a part of the Earth, one with the cycle, a
Spirit. The Earth is you now, and you will fight for it."

I turned slowly, finding Death smiling at me.

"What do you mean, 'fight?'"