Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Death Came To Call

When Death came knocking at my door
He called to me with sweet sincerity
My face was old and wrinkled
My small hands were weak, and yet

I didn't want to see him
His eerie gloom was uninviting
He smiled at me with menace
His face was oh so frightening

"Come," he said, his finger beckoned
"Come and ride with me
Together we will ride through time
And all the past we'll see"

I did not want to ride
I knew his horse was black
And once I mounted up
I would never come back

He came at me quite peacefully
And I raised my weak hand
To strike him down of course
He touched me and said, "Come now."

And I lowered my hand in defeat
There was nothing I could do
To bring me sweet relief
I followed him to the door
And mounted his black horse
I looked at all my loved ones
Eyes filled with remorse

Sadly I turned my head
It was all for lost
I was riding with Sir Death
For whatever the cost

We made for his home
Where, I do not know
It was the longest journey
On which I have ever gone

It seemed we rode for hours
Yet minutes it had been
And the ground below was blue
While the sky above was green

He led me to his gate
And bid me go on in
I looked at him in defiance
And again he spread his grin

"All must come to pass, dear friend,"
He said with that smile
"Come in and stay with me,
It's only a short while"

I looked in to his eyes
And realized, to my surprise
His eyes were blue and sparkling
They were warm and wise

Smiling now as well
I took my descent
Down the stony steps
To Death's bright grave I went

--Brett G. Rudder

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