Death's Flame

Death comes for us all, eventually.

I can only speak for myself, but Death manifested like steam from a freshly brewed cup of tea. Swirling from the ground, unfurling into a greater, less dense shape. Ready to take me.

But I wasn't ready to go. Not yet. Not anytime soon. It was my nineteenth birthday. There was a cake I wasn't supposed to know about stashed in the back of the cupboard. I was getting ready to see my friends. I was healthy and well, very much in my prime.

Yet still, Death came for me.

Death had no words. There was no hooded figure holding a scythe. I just watched them enter my view, and I instinctively knew it was them. I wish I could say that the sky darkened, and that the colour seemed to drain from the world, but pathetic fallacy was not on my side. A bright late April day. Music playing downstairs, birds chirping outside, a car speeding past. The normalcy of every day.

But Death arrived regardless.

Everyone who knew me would say that I'm a fighter. I don't suffer fools lightly. Dying this young for no good reason would be a foolish thing to do. I will not suffer myself, not today.

How could I, only just turned nineteen, stand up to this monolith that has taken every living thing? How could I, halfway through getting dressed, possibly bargain for my life? As I had seen Death approach, I understood that there was no malice on their part; no intent. You can't bargain with cause to effect. Time is unflinching, to try and better it would be nothing but ego.

Yet somehow, a champion offered me salvation.

Unlike Death, I did not sense their arrival. They merely appeared into my periphery. Like Death, they were not a corporeal being. Nothing that this Earth, at least to my knowledge, would normally be home to. This creature, unlike the dancing steam of Death, had a more comprehendible shape. Mostly humanoid, definitely bipedal, with the most brilliant green eyes I had ever seen. It didn't have skin as such, it looked much more like a continuous stream of dripping red wax, clinging onto its form for as long as it could, before pooling from any extremity and plummeting downwards. Except these drops of molten wax never hit the floor. Instead, they appeared to continue their descent, ignoring the carpet and the floorboards altogether. As if these beads of wax had an intended destination outside of what I knew.

"Come on now," the dripping creature said, "You can't take them on their birthday. They've done nothing wrong, they ain't got a sickness. They're still young."

Death didn't reply. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I didn't understand Death's reply as I understood that of my champion. No words escaped the steam, nor did any sound. The flickers in its movement seemed just as careless and free as they did previously.

"A deal?" The red figure reiterated, as if shocked by the outcome. "Striking a deal with Death itself sure is a dangerous thing. What do you want in return?"

This time, my champion tentatively walked towards Death, leaning in, as if Death itself dare not speak of its price too loudly for fear it could bring about the death of everything. The creature listened carefully, its brilliant green eyes darting as if reading the most terrible of terms. It even extended an arm and pushed back a collection of wax into its forehead, only for it to begin to pool once more.

"What does it want?" I asked, finally remembering my voice. "Whatever it is, if it's within my power, I shall do it."

Neither Death nor my champion responded. It was if I wasn't quite on their plain of existence. Perhaps I wasn't. Perhaps being this close to Death permitted me to see the other side without fully stepping into the Great Beyond where their deal was being struck.

I was growing impatient. I knew not how much time, whether literal or metaphorical, I had left. "I said, what does it want?"

My champion turned to face me. It didn't just look towards me, it looked at me. Their gaze unshifting, despite their features continuously being in a state of flux. Something about their emerald eyes settled and unnerved me in equal measure.

"You wanna live, right? Live a full life? Live way beyond your nineteenth birthday?" I nodded. "Well, Death and I have come to an..." The creature thought carefully before producing its next word, "Arrangement. You can live for as long as you're willing to be a custodian."

I dared to look beyond the wax creature, back towards Death. It still loomed. Still churning and unfurling. Death was many things, but it was never still. "A custodian of what, exactly?"

Before the creature could answer, I could hear a knock on the front door. I knew I couldn't leave this place, but at least I had confirmation that time in the real world kept moving, and appeared to still be close. There was a small commotion as my Dad answered the door. A chorus of muffled voices being welcomed and greeting my parents. My friends, gathered here because of me. If I didn't agree, they would come up to my room to find me dead. Six lives, eight including my parents, altered right then. Countless more once news travelled. Family, friends, teachers. All that mourning. All that sadness, and on such a beautiful Spring day, too. I would be to blame, should I relinquish this opportunity.

My champion seemed to either ignore or be completely unaware of the commotion downstairs. Instead of replying with voice, the red creature reached into the centre of its own chest, its fingers sinking into the soft, molten wax with a wet, squelching sound. When it pulled its hand away, it held a single, slender taper. It was the same vivid red as the creature’s skin, and as it held it out, a spark jumped from its green eyes to the wick.

The flame was tiny. Pathetic. A blue-white bead of light that shivered in the air.

"Death is a patient thing," the creature whispered, its voice like the crackle of a cooling hearth. "I cannot deny that there will come a time when it will take you, as it takes all. But keep this lit, and it can’t touch you. You want to see twenty, don't you? You want a chance at a real life?"

I looked at the steam. It felt colder now, or perhaps I had just been told it was cold. I looked at the candle. My lifeline.

"What do I do?" I asked, my voice trembling.

"You keep it alive," the creature said, pressing the warm, tacky base of the candle into my palm. "That's the deal. Don't let it flicker. Don't let it fade. As long as the flame dances, you stay. Simple, ain't it?"

As my fingers closed around the wax, the creature began to puddle, melting into the floorboards until only those green eyes remained, shimmering in the carpet. "Better close the window, kid. There's nothing gentle about any breeze now."

I didn't watch the creature leave. I couldn't. My eyes were locked on the wick. Downstairs, I heard my mother call my name. A draft swept through the hallway, and the tiny flame bowed low, nearly vanishing into the red wax. My heart seized. I didn't answer my mother. I didn't move toward the door. Instead, I dropped to my knees on the carpet, cupping my hands around the light, shielding it with my body. I stayed there, breathless and still.

A little while later, there was a gentle knock on my bedroom door. "Is everything alright, love? We're all waiting for you downstairs."

I dare not speak for fear of my breath extinguishing the flame.