Perfumed with myrrh and gum-diseased her smile
that upward turned her plum-like lips, she waited
with a smirk that never touched her blood-stained eyes.
The left part of her face was youthful, peached,
the other grayish old and marked with leprosy.
I met her in the lobby-bar, where she had drained
her fifth Martini for the night— Surprised I
realized she knew my baptized names
as well as every secret moniker that’s been
given, gasped or whispered in the dead of nights.
“I’m Death, and I am tired”, she pouted, while she
used her burgundy fingernails, to draw designs and
numbers in the polished countertop. “I know how
many strokes of heart that’s left, I know, I sense
when you are ready for a tryst”, She pointed
at the right part of her face, “when I regain my youth,
when my disease is gone, we’ll kiss, and like
a lamb that’s led to slaughter you will follow me to bed.”
She rose to leave and I was left to pay her bill,
a small installment for the gold I’m due to pay.
Kiss by Edvard Munch
—
September 18, 2016
She is indeed that!…great word paintings…
Yikes–pretty scary! Very scary! I hope to meet death in a more benign form! Very vivid and rather convincing though, Bjorn. Thanks. k .
Amazing write…such effective descriptions and narrative flow. Kind of Kafkaesque.
Wow, you painted her so scary – and so real. A cool idea to write death as a woman. Hmmm….maybe I can conjure up a tall, bearded hero at the end of the journey – Mr Right, come at last, LOL.
Beautifully haunting! 💖💖
Ah, that description of her is chilling…..no one someone would want to be involved in, but……
Horrors, and you know she’ll be back. This is chilling
You’re the master of the “small death” poem.
I so enjoy your flash fiction, how you capture so much in so few words. “like a lamb led to slaughter” love it.
Darkly imaginative, and a thoroughly tight read.
You really excel at these narrative pieces – dare I say bring the paintings alive.. I’ve never thought of death as a woman.. But your words and that sense of tiredness convey so much
Oh my. Amazing.
Oh Bjorn! I am trying to incorporate both Thurs and Sun’s prompts together too! Since I haven’t written mine yet I had to stop reading yours — don’t want to be influenced!! Will come back later…
Meeting death and having to pay the bill..scary stuff here bjorn
This is such a deliciously dark and fully realized story!
I’m Death, and I am tired”… wow!!
Brilliant. I love it so thought provoking..:bkm
Your Lady Death was not sweet and nice and could not be enticing in the form she was. Still one must pay her bill. This was a fun read, I especially like the “every secret moniker” bit, I do that sometimes and unlike her, I am harmless.
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This is spine-chillingly dark and eerie. Some really intense and fascinating writing in this narrative.
It is a debt expected from us all! Nicely done….you often surprise.
An initial installment a small investment but the returns seem to be most rewarding!
Hank
“I’m Death, and I am tired”, and this is really chilling because you won’t know what she will do next.
a very well crafted dark narrative. is there a sequel in the works? 🙂
I see there is a prequel where she is an old crone and a sequel where she’s a lovely young girl…
Wonderfully well imagined and well told.
Such a chilling portrait of death, one fears for the protagonist.
I love that second stanza! Wow!
Bjorn, another great write. Your personification of “death as a woman” goes well beyond the prompt. She is creepy. She is half beautiful, as befitting the release of death (also hinted in “come to my bed,” the romance of death). The burgundy fingernails tracing, tracing. Yeah, you nailed it.
Death sounds very Russian, drinking Vodka and facing the darkness.
I never thought of death as being tired until I read your poem. But why shouldn’t she be? She does the same thing over and over again. It must get boring, don’t you think?
I think that after the first sugar rush of kill, it’s just like any job, just chores.
I love the conceit here–what a great set of images it evokes
oh, well done, Bjorn ~
“i’m death, and I’m tired.” Never thought about that. Maybe a little mellowed by her drinks too. What a creative way to look at death. Thanks so much for writing for the prompt!
Wow! You really nailed the face of death. I could see this turning into a short story. I love the fact that she is tired.