Caught on a Web

“Is he dead yet?” Death mocked.

Life sat on the porch, staring at a man and his daughter playing on the garden.

“You’re too early.” Life answered, though it knew why Death was there. “Far too early.”

“Am I?”

They stared at the man, who’s smile turned into a broken expression of pain, with every muscle of his red face hardening. His hand grabbing his chest.

“What’s the fellow’s name?” Death asked.

“Mike Dunford.”

“Dunford? I thought it was Done-for…”

The scream of the scared girl interrupted the wordplay. There was something more painful in children’s screams. To be wise enough to know something is wrong, but unprepared to deal with it in any way.

“He’s not going to die.” Life assured. “The girl is going to call an ambulance and they’ll save him.”

“Are you certain?”

The man expressed pain with each breath “Call your mother.”

“Wait” Said Death “that’s going to take more time than if she called the ambulance. He’ll be dead by then.”

“The mother can explain the heart attack much faster… it’s the- it is the right choice.”

The girl walked to the front door, but at 4 years-old she was still too short and weak to open the door.

“He’s dead.” Death stood up as if there was a clear winner in this battle.

“Mike!” Said the neighbour, looking at Mike's face down on the grass.

She instinctively called an ambulance and took the little girl inside. She called more neighbours too, each spouting random wrong and right decisions of what to do with Mike while they waited for help.

“You seem bored,” said Life. “Can I entertain you?”

Death looked around and locked eyes on a web. Zap movements from its victim.

“You know,” said Death. “There’s another Life and Death, just like us, fighting for the fate of that fly.” Death looked at the crowd putting and taking pillows from Mike’s feet and head. “The moment Life loses hope, Death will take that fly. Are you still hopeful?” Life gave no response. “I can feel every cell that dies within him, it’s so fast. Can you feel it, too?”

“I can feel something else.” The ambulance arrived.

***

“Too many cells died for him to ever have a normal life.” Said Death. “It’s sad, but more importantly, it’s true. It’s reality.”

The man was taken to a room in the hospital with doctors rapidly moving from several corners to treat him.

“Why can’t you?” Yelled life. “Why can’t you just leave this one? Why not others who take lives, why can’t you be fair?!”

“I am.” There was a pause. “I don’t pick others precisely because I am fair. I am the only being, the only thing that is completely indiscriminate. But for you, the fact that I'm not biased towards your view is what makes me ‘unfair’”.

Life had no answer.

The wife of the man came in with cheeks red of fear and black from eyeliner, trembling hands and a dead breath of cigarettes.

“I still have hope.” Said Life.

The wife approached a doctor who left the operation room, who seemed in a worry to be somewhere else. “Is he going to be ok?” The wife asked.

“I can’t say.” And he left.

“That’s never good,” said Death. “That one was just too scared to say the truth. Lost hope yet?”

“No,” Life said, but it wasn’t completely true. When Death is nearby, the desire for the best outcome is greater than the actual belief of it. Thoughts of the worst fate come to mind, in the hopes that we’ll be prepared when it happens. But we never are.

***

“Do you still have hope?” Death asked. They were all around Mike, his wife was looking down at the bed, hopeless. "Do you?"

Life was staring down on the floor, covering its ears. It shook its head.

“I need to hear you say it.” Death said.

“I’m not…” There was a long pause.

“’I’m not what?” Death insisted.

Life looked up at Death. “I’m not quitting yet!”

The hand of the man moved, soon after the eyes opened, and the ritual of crying began amongst them, with ‘I love yous’ being shared between them.

Life looked at Death. They sensed each other’s respectful dislike for each other.

“Goodbye.” Said Life. “I hope not to see you for a long time.”

“You won today.” Said Death with a simile hiding disappointment. “But remember, your victory, unlike mine, is only temporary.”