WATTYS 2023 SHORTLIST
Cara, a troubled college dropout, finds herself slowly falling for a handsome stranger - who turns out to be Death incarnate. But the arrival of a mysterious being puts Death's home for lost souls and his very existence at risk...
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"Mom," I cry out, like it's a reflex, even though it can't be her. It can't be her because she'd never have any reason to inhabit a place such as this, even if it's just her likeness. My fingers flex at my sides, and I don't know whether to laugh or cry or scream. I demand, "What is she doing here?"
Death stops beside me, gazing silently at the hundreds – thousands - of canvases hung upon the walls, strangers peering down at us from an unknowable place. It's impossible to take them all in. And the quality of the portraits themselves...They're more like mirrors than charcoal on canvas, bursting with life and personality. If I squint enough, I can almost trick myself into seeing their chests rise and fall with breath.
Which makes it all the more surprising when Death lifts his eyes to mine and shyly asks, "What do you think?"
"You...You made these?" I splutter. Death nods, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. As much as I'm conflicted about what to feel about him right now, the gesture is unnervingly sweet and so...human. I imagine him secluding himself up here every day, hunched over on a stool, hands darkened by lead after hours of sketching. "Who are all of these people?"
"My residents. Past and present." At the unbridled expression of wonder on my face, he guides me towards the back corner of the cluttered attic, where Sarah's face scowls down at us. I can't help the laugh that bursts from me.
"That's Sarah alright." And right beside her, I recognize Lisa, Paul, Louis...But right now, there's only one portrait that I want to look at. My feet lead me back to my mother, and I do nothing about the tears that start to fall upon my cheeks.
This...This is how I remembered her. Flashing that wry smile, diamonds in her eyes. It's almost as if I can reach out and touch her.
"Most people are so afraid of the unknown when they pass, but your mother...All she worried about was you." I didn't notice Death come up behind me. I remain frozen, gazing into my mother's eyes as his gentle but strong voice fills the room. I don't dare blink; I don't dare send myself back to that hospital room. "I took her into the clearing and after two seconds I knew that she wasn't going to move on. Not without a fight, anyway. She was one of the most stubborn souls I've ever met." He chuckles, and another tear drops onto my cheek. "But after a few days, she finally engaged in conversation with me. I asked her what would bring her peace, and she said that she wanted to know that her daughter would be alright. That you would be alright."
I feel his gaze burning through my skin, but I still can't look away from my mother. My strong, stubborn, loud, joyful, protective mother, kneeling before Death with a final request. Because I was her unfinished business. My voice is barely a rasp when I ask, "And what happened next?"
"Well, I reassured her that one day our paths were bound to cross." Meaning mine and Death's. I feel a shiver along my spine that has nothing to do with the spirit standing inches away from me. "And that when that day came, I would protect you."
