That One Compilation Of Rather Short Stories

Moment

There's a moment people have which you don't ever really notice, not until you're tired and old. Old enough that you've seen much in than blink of an eye, even though some say it might not be quite enough.

You look back, sickly pale lips pursed, weary eyes wrinkled with old-aged wisdom as you stumble. Stumble and falter, as you turn back for the first time on that twisted path lined with thorns and alluring, poisonous flowers rooted in the sinking ground.
And you stop and stare though ahead you see the long-awaited end. Stop cause behind, you find, seems to catch your eye, a feat that hadn't happened in all that time in that blink of an eye.

And you ignore the bright light that throbs ahead, saying "I'm here! Why do you look behind at the past?" For why look ahead, you ponder, thoughtful smile, wondering why you took certain turns and twists, all leading to the same end in the end. Cause you've waited so long, you think, for this light that lies ahead, something so much less wondrous now that you're there.

Waited till curiosity seemed to shrivel and die, surfeiting, appetite long have sickened and died.

"Hello!" The warmth that lies ahead calls once more, a tighter tone, as if you needed to be reminded of its presense. You glare at it, not ready, shaking its firm grip away. A moment you need, you tell it, just to look back and see.

And so it shakes its head, rolls its eyes, cause Death, sinister light that it is, knows what it means to wait for life to say bye. 

So you nod thankfully at it, with grudging respect that Death doesn't expect when others still scorn it, and you narrow your eyes, till you can see that time when you made an especially monumental lie, that time when you met the love of your life, and that time when you protested against natural order, as if people were ever made to be immortals.

Then moments later, calm as can be, once you've peered as far down the road as can see, you turn back around, to ever patient Death, the light that waits so long but yet still doesn't.

"I think I'll be content," you say, and the brightness nods, its arm reaching out as it beckons you to take it.

"That's what some say," it says as it leads you away, till black dots decorate your eyes as you kiss the path behind goodbye.

"Not all though, lucky friend."