O Death, Thou Hideous Beast

It happened at my grandmother's funeral. I was tired of the fake smiles and handshakes and the well-wishers and decided to exit the rear of the funeral home to just be alone. That's when I saw it. A shadow at first, slipping away down the dark alley like a criminal on the lam. I called out:

"Hey there, you! What is your business here?"

It stopped for a moment, then again began to scurry away without turning around to face me. I don't know why or what came over me but I ran down that alley as fast as I could and grabbed it by the collar. With a snarl it turned toward me and I knew at that moment that I had come face to face with Death. Instinctively I backed away, cowering like a lamb before a lion. For a moment time seemed to stand still as we gawked at one another. Death was a foul beast, unlike anything I'd ever seen before or could have even imagined. It's eyes were hollow and listless, it's belly the size of Jupiter. Quite unexpectedly it belched and the foulness of it's breath was worse than it's appearance, yes, the stench of a billion rotting corpses. I suddenly got my courage up and asked it:

"Why? Why her? She was the kindest, gentlest soul on earth. Why choose her before her hair had the chance to turn full gray? Before she had the chance to see the third generation born? Why?" It answered with a guttural growl:

"I am king, I answer to no one."

Strange as it was, I began to feel a bit of pity for this poor creature, this thing. Truly, it was the ugliest beast ever to be seen, yet there was this emptiness in it's eyes. A longing? Loneliness? I wasn't sure. It boasted:

"I am king! I am victor!"

It showed me a vision, whether I was in my body or not I don't know, but somehow I was transported to the highest mountain on earth, and from there I could see all the nations and kingdoms of the world. Then it said:

"Do you see these? They are mine. All of them are mine."

Then it showed me visions of hurricanes and tornadoes, tsunamis and earthquakes, fire and flood. I saw the faces of Hitler, Stalin, Amin, Alexander, Nero. Weapons of mass destruction and guns, so many guns. Every imaginable type of carnage was flashed before my eyes in a matter of minutes. Then it turned to me with an evil smile and said to me:

"I am Death, I have been ruler for six thousand years. Bow to me."

Any pity I may have initially felt for the beast was now replaced with utter hatred as I retorted:

"You may indeed be king of this world, O Death, but I am a Christian and I believe in the resurrection of the dead. Your sting is but temporary, your rule shall end. I may succumb to you, but I will never bow!"

For a brief second I thought I saw a change in it's complexion, the eyes were different. I didn't know whether it was because I said I was a Christian or if it was the indirect reference to Christ, but I now understood why I had felt pity for the creature. It knows its end is near, its reign finished. Like a wild animal that has been hunted for days and finally tires out, it has seen the future, its reality, its own final death. There was a weariness to its movements, a resignation in its eyes. I realized then that it was nothing more than a coward, a bully. I said:

"You are indeed coming to an ignominious end, old one."

But like a cornered animal the beast let out a defiant growl. The eyes grew menacing once again as it began mocking me. It retorted with a sneer:

"Maybe, but not today!"

It laughed and asked me if I believed in fairies and little green men too. I felt no need to answer it nor to debate any longer. I asked to be returned to the funeral home. It acquiesced and the visions ended, though it promised (threatened?) to revisit me again. I found myself alone at the rear of this place of death and mourning and felt compelled to look up at the stars. So peaceful. So quiet. The crowd inside had dispersed but someone forgot to lock the back door. I went back inside and walked up to the lonely open casket and looked at grandma. Her face had a slight smile and restfulness to it.

Yes, I had come face to face with the monster we call death. But as I took one last look at the woman who loved her God and her family I just knew that I would see her again. When that time comes I will look toward the cold north and cry out:

"O Death, where is thy sting? Where is thy victory, O hideous beast?"

I trust that I will not be alone in my revelry.

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