It's never the destination that's the bother, it's all of the bloody waiting.


.:Rated general:.


Word Count: 3487

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What Awaits You When Your World Ends

Beep... beep… beep… beep….

It’s not what comes next, but the waiting that’s most tedious, to be honest. How long must he wait in this godforsaken bed? “You seem in good spirits.”

Entering the hospital room was a woman with greying hair, a familiar and welcomed sight if there ever were one. “Hello my sweet, you seem well” the person in the bed remarked despite his sallow expression. He struggled to rise, but seemed content with just leaning against their pillow.

“Thank you daddy. I’m sorry Rufus and the kids couldn’t come with me, but it’s a school night, and I didn’t want them staying up too late” the woman replied with a sad smile as she took the seat by the bed.

“Not even to see their dying grandfather?” the old figure melodramatically remarked.

“You’re not dying daddy” the woman laughed with waning mirth.

“Well, I feel like it” the old man grumpily insisted.

“Huh, I thought age was supposed to soften people” the man’s daughter joked with a smirk.

“I will have you know, young lady, that I am plenty soft. I wouldn’t be here if I were properly hard like I was when you still wore shorts” the old man affirmed proudly.

“I still do” the woman uttered under her breath.

“What was that now?” the old man grunted.

“Nothing daddy, don’t worry about it. So, have the doctors mentioned when you’ll get your results?” the woman asked with concern.

“Soon” the old man sulkily responded.

“Are you scared, daddy?” the woman inquired.

“I’ve never been scared in my life, why should I be now?” the old man grunted.

His daughter blinked a few times, and she could only smile in a weak and pitiful way. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t think I can recall you ever being scared” she laughed to herself.

“You did frighten me when you ate that bottle of pills” her fathered reminded her.

“When did I do that?”

“You were two and getting into everything. I kick myself for leaving them where you could get your grabby little hands on the bottle” the old man grumbled.

“Huh, mum never mentioned I did that.”

“You never really asked, so there you go Rose” Rose’s father grunted.

“I’m scared, daddy, I really am” his daughter admitted guiltily.

Struggling his best to get up, the old man managed a slouching position. Reaching out with a withered arm, he lovingly stroked his daughter’s cheek. “Now don’t be child. There’s no sense in being scared about this sort of thing. What will be, will be Rose” he sagely advised her.

“I know daddy. I… I have to go now, to kiss the kids goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow” Rose promised as she rose from her seat. “I love you daddy” she said before walking out of the room.

“I love you too, my sweet” the old man whispered longingly.

Beep... beep… beep….

“How are you doing you wrinkled old scrotum?!”

The old man smiled, a sense of warmth flooding him as he found the energy to smile and lean in his bed. A friendly face (that resembled a baked apple) was standing in the doorway, looking older than sin and carrying himself like a bundle of dirty laundry. “Greg you old fuck, how the hell are ya?” the old man chuckled as his friend took a seat by his bed.

“Clearly better than you you decrepit old pile of piss and vinegar” Greg chuckled boisterously, despite his clear and obvious age.

“Don’t discount me yet you old turd, I could still give you one in the chops any day of the week” the old man boasted with a pair of quick jabs.

“I’m sure you would you old fart. So how are you doing? Still hanging in there?” Greg asked with a broad smile.

“As well as I can with all these crackpot doctors around” the old man sulkily responded.

“Oh come on you old man, do you still have that phobia of doctors you’ve had since you got pricked one too many times by that near-sighted nurse with a needle?” Greg said with a smirk.

“I ain’t even been scared of them, I just think they’re a bunch of old fusspots who can’t tell you things in good time is all” the old man explained.

“Ever the impatient one, aren’t’cha? No surprises there, considering you had to be the first for everything. First to the pictures, first to get the new comic, first to lose your virginity” Greg said with a knowing brow wiggle.

“Like you can talk you old fart. You was the one always trying to compete with me at everything. But you can’t blame me on that last part, considering you had all the wit and sophistication of a horse’s arse” the old man smirked.

“Because you were always the gentlemen weren’t you? How did one of your pick-up lines go? Oh yes, “I was wondering if you’d be interested in spending time with my special little friend called Willy”” the old man’s friend guffawed loudly.

“What can I say Greg? I was always a charmer” the old man said in agreement.

“Yeah, you “was”, weren’t you?” Greg laughed with a wink. “I wonder what happened to him.”

“He got married” the old man frowned. “He got married, and didn’t need his charm when he had the love of his life instead. Maybe that was for the best.”

“I think it was, less competition for me that way” Greg nodded in agreement.

For some reason, the man couldn’t help but laugh as he stared into his lap. “Yeah, less competition, huh? For what it’s worth Greg, I did miss you as we drifted apart. I still miss you now” he admitted to an empty chair.

Beep… beep….

“So, this is all remains of you, eh?” a drawling voice smugly declared.

Rolling his eyes in frustration, the old man was less-than-pleased to see an old man with all the fashion sense of a store mannequin drift into the room, a look of triumph on his face as he sat. “Well don’t sound too excited Norman, I ain’t dead yet” the old man bitterly declared.

“Is it so wrong to hope?” the unpleasant man called Norman responded.

“Damn right it is when you’re hoping for me to die” the old man grunted.

“Hoping, wishing, is that so wrong?” Norman philosophically questioned.

“Hmph, then I think it’s fair I hope the same for you. I hear that appendix of yours is like a ticking time bomb. I only wish that timer would hurry the hell up already” the old man callously sneered.

“It’s good to see you you withered old donkey scrotum. I’d hate to think that in your final hours you’d fight with all the fire you’re known for” the unpleasant man remarked fondly.

“I’ll be biting back until the day I die Norman, and don’t think I won’t spare my punches with you” the old man caustically spat.

“Which could be any day now for all we know. Still, if it’s anything to go by, I did enjoy the fights we had, however rare they became. As much as I hate to admit it, you were fun to hate” Norman conceded.

“Likewise you old fuck. I never met anyone who could piss me off as well as you could. It’s a pity too, really. If you weren’t you, we could have been friends. But I guess it helps that we could hate each other all the same” the old man mused.

“Eh, even if we were friends we’d probably somehow hate each other. It’s destiny.”

“HA! I could never believe in that destiny piss. What even is the point of living if everything you did was preordained? Nah, live life by the seat of your pants and by the hairs of your balls, that’s the only way to live” the old man alleged.

“Hmph, I guess that worked out for you then,” Norman remarked as he rose from his chair, “but then, it might have worked out because you were destined to do those things” he added with a knowing smirk as he showed himself out.

“I fucking hate how he always has to get the last say” the old man grumbled to his silent room.

Beep….

The old man looked to the door expectantly, but all he found was an empty hall. He sighed haggardly, and lay back in his bed, allowing the silence to take him. Closing his eyes slowly, he attempted one last look at the door, but still nobody came. “Does closing your eyes to fate bring you peace?”

So that was why nobody came, for somebody was already there. Standing at the foot of the old man’s bed was a black ram in a black suit. An umbrella was hook on his right arm, and his beady eyes stared with expectation beneath his bowler hat. “I don’t recognize you” the old man remarked, a sense of fatigue overwhelming him.

“We’ve never met” the ram answered in a melancholy tone as he took a seat. “But you could say we were fated to meet, if you believe in that sort of thing” he shrugged.

“I don’t” the old man confirmed.

“Then I suppose that is your choice. But then, you did not answer me question. Does closing your eyes to your fate bring you peace?” the ram insisted.

“I’d answer if you knew what you meant. What fate do you mean? Dying or saying I can go home?” the old man questioned.

“Either/or, I suppose. Although, it is the fate of all things to die eventually. It is inevitable” the ram explained.

“Says you. I don’t think it’s a person’s fate to die, you just die as a part of living. That’s it. So long and thanks for all the fish” the old man replied wearily.

“So long and thanks for all the…. So, you aren’t afraid of the possibility of death?” the ram questioned with bafflement hanging firm and clear in his voice.

“No sense being scared of what you said was inevitable. If every bugger dies all the same, what’s the point of being scared of what’s bound to happen sooner or later?” the old man queried. “Seems bloody stupid to be scared when you put it the way you do.”

The ram was silent and contemplative in that thought. “I suppose you are right, to a degree. But now, in the realm of unknowing, are you scared you might die soon?” he asked calmly.

“You act as if I will. Dumb luck can happen, whether ya want it to or not. To say I have a chance to die doesn’t mean I will die, that’s just pessimism innit? But am I scared? I suppose a little. Nobody can say they aren’t when they’re faced with the possibility of dying. You ain’t human if you’re about to die and you ain’t scared. But if you think I’m going to go out sobbing, well, clearly you don’t know me very well” the old man grinned.

“I suppose I don’t. Truth be told… I don’t know a lot about anything, really. Life is one big mystery to me.”

….

The two were silent at that admission, their gaze broken only by a man in a white coat entering the room. He acted as if he could not see the ram, despite standing right next to him. He was looking over a clipboard with papers bound to it, and seemed quite pleased with what he was reading. “So Mister Simpson, your tests are back, and it’s good news. You are okay to leave here. In fact, you can leave right now, if you wish to go so soon” the doctor announced with gladness.

The old man smiled happily, and with strength in his arms, he got himself out of his bed. Gown swishing about from his haggard movements, he hobbled towards the door, only to pause by the bearer of good news. “Thank you” he whispered gratefully, and walked out into the hallway, the ram watching him go until he was out of sight.

It was a short walk to the reception, where a crowd of people had gathered. His daughters Rose and Ruth, his boys Carlos, Hansel, and Kevin, and their family, his tolerated in-laws, and his beautiful grandchildren. His beloved wife and his parents, as well as the in-laws from hell. Greg and the boys, that SOB Norman with his sulky and sour expression. Friends that had come and gone, women he had loved and lost. Good people who have long since returned to the ground they had walked upon. People he had barely known. They were all here, smiling and waiting for him. The old man, Mister Isaac Johansson Simpson, smiled back as he walked with strength passed the crowd, his loved ones, the people he cared for, the people he hated, and the people he barely knew parting to allow him to pass. “I’m going home” Isaac announced as he walked through them all.

They didn’t say a word, they merely smiled, clapped, and gave him a firm pat on the back as he walked towards the entrance of the hospital with a thunder of applause following him.

Opening the doors with all his might, the old man walked out into the cool night air, with a tapestry of a million stars illuminating the blanket of black that composed the night sky. And before him stood a long road, following those stars onwards into eternity. With confidence he walked that starlit road, never once turning back as he walked ahead, his stride growing in strength with every step he took. No longer feeling the age that held him down, Isaac walked down the road, even as the sides broke away, leaving a narrow path for him to traverse. Never turning back, he continued on the path, a void of stars surrounding him as the miles inched on, and never once did he lose the strength of confidence in his march.

And soon, he saw up ahead a single lamppost standing vigil by a park bench parked upon a small circle of land. Someone swathed in black sat upon the bench, with a hood to hide their head as they seemed to stare up at the night sky. Hobbling forwards, Isaac reached the figure, and he weakly sat down beside them. “It’s a lovely evening, wouldn’t you agree?” the figure remarked casually.

“Indeed it is” Isaac nodded in agreement. “This is a night sky you could only find in the hills, and away from the lights of civilization. You can see each and every constellation from here” he smiled, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“It is beautiful, and it is more the pity that some never get to see it in their lifetime” the figure remarked with pity and bitterness.

“I… I wish I had gotten the chance to see it” the old man bitterly uttered.

“You’re seeing it now. Does the when really matter?” the figure inquired curiously.

“I… I don’t know” Isaac answered with a confused shrug. “A part of me feels like it does.”

“Which part?”

“The part of me that’s meant to be here” Isaac explained, a hand over his chest.

“It’s still there, whether you think it is or not” the figure explained.

“You’re very casual and understanding for who you’re meant to be” Isaac observed.

The figure tilted their head, their cowl shifting about. “And who am I supposed to be?” they inquired curiously.

“You already know the answer, don’t’cha?” Isaac replied.

“Ha ha, yeah, I do” the figure chuckled pleasantly. “But, does it frighten you to know who I am?”

“Now that you confirmed my suspicions, not really” Isaac answered.

“And yet, you were too afraid to look back on your way here. Does fear of the end come second only to the fear of remembering?” the figure inquired. Isaac opened his mouth to answer, but he immediately closed it before the words could come out. “Please, I only ask you be honest with me. What better chance is there to be than now?” the figure requested politely.

“I’m afraid to look back, because then I’ll have to look at the faces of everyone I’m leaving behind” the old man answered in a harsh whisper, tears gently caressing his withered cheeks on the way down.

“Are you really leaving them behind?” the figure inquired.

“What else does dying do beyond that?” the old man demanded.

The figure was silent again, thinking to itself as it gazed up at the night sky. Having reached its conclusion, its gaze lowered, and for once, it turned to look at Isaac. Hidden within the black and void-like cowl was a skull with piercing blue specks of light for eyes. The shape of the figure’s head was unmistakably the same as the old man’s, and yet, it seemed to generate a sympathetic and warm expression despite its expressionless face. “Remind people what’s most important in their lives” Death answered thoughtfully.

“How so?” Isaac blurted out.

Death chuckled pleasantly, and his gaze turned to behind them, back along the long path Isaac had walked to reach here. “Turn around, and you will see” Death explained.

“But-”

“Please, just this once, trust in me” Death requested earnestly. “I have no reason to lie to you, after all.”

Nodding, and against better judgement, Isaac turned his head to look back along the path he took. Behind him was the hospital, and his home, and his third home, his second, his first, the places he worked in, the people’s houses he had visited, his favourite bar, his favourite movie theatre, the maternity wards where his children and grandchildren were seen in. Tears rolled down Isaac’s face as everyone who had ever mattered in his life all stood, all smiling, and not a single tear ran down their faces. That could not be said for Isaac as the tears dripped from his cheeks. “They aren’t crying” Isaac whispered.

“Are they supposed to be?” Death inquired. “I personally don’t think so, if I’m to be honest with you. Why should there be tears for a man who died peacefully, and will be leaving this world having made an impact in so many lives? Likewise in the fact that they all had an impact on your life as well. Would you want those people to be crying?”

Isaac shook his head. “I figured as much. I suppose it goes without saying, Isaac, that life is unfortunately short. I have seen countless lives come and go, each one played out differently. But that shortness is what makes life so precious, which I’m sure you know as well. But what is important here, Isaac, is that you shouldn’t go out with your back turned on the people who helped make you who you are. Who helped make you Isaac Johansson Simpson” Death emphatically explained. “The people you loved,” he said, emphasising Isaac’s family, “the people you cared for,” he continued, emphasising Greg and the others, “the people you barely knew and the people you despised above all else. Well, I think it’s only fair that you leave them with your head held high, a smile on your face, and an energetic wave as you say goodbye.”

Isaac looked to death, and then he looked to the long road of his life. Each and every single person waved to him, however begrudgingly some might be doing so. Smiling fondly, the old man rose from his seat, and he gave the best wave he could muster as each building faded away, every memory satisfied as he made his goodbye, until the road was gone, and only the island remained. “So what happens now?” the old man questioned. “There’s no road left.”

Death chuckled as he held a long arm out, a bony finger pointing towards a road building itself before them. “Who said there isn’t? When you run out of road, you make a new one and keep going” he answered happily.

“Oh, well, I see. Thank you, for making this easier on me” Isaac said gratefully.

Death chuckled as he rose from the bench, the structure fading away into nothing. “It’s my duty to help make the transition between life and death easier” he explained as he strode forward.

“So where are you going now?” Isaac questioned.

Death paused, and he laughed again. “I’m going with you, to see you off on the start of the next stage of your existence” he explained as he continued to walk.

“I see” Isaac said as he followed the spectre into the void. “So, any idea of what will happen next?”

“Oh ho ho ho Isaac, I’m afraid I can’t. That would only spoil the surprise. And life? Well, it would be frightfully boring without surprises.”