"In the beginning, there was no light. The whole universe was dark. Light brought out life. Life gave way to chaos. Hence, the world comes to exist till today, as of the day I'm writing this note..."

He'd been at his desk for a while now. But it was getting boring and he was drawing a blank. So, he stopped and got up from his table. He switched his wrenched-lamp off.

His room was a small square one with a single window, that looked out over the beach towards the limitless ocean. Yawning, he grabbed a chair and sat down close to his window. The distant sound of the waves was only but normal to him. Everyday, hundreds of people would come to this beach. He'd sit and look at them.

He'd look at the happy families, the little girl busy with her brother, ordering him to bring buckets filled with sand. He'd admire the couples holding hands and walking thoughtlessly through the big waves. How he craved that life. How he wanted to have his family back. Fate snatched his wife and son away from him. He's been writing even since.

He takes a small, red, fat diary, which had "FAMILY" scribbled on it. Inside this diary was, everything he called family. From the first day of that magical meet with Marisa, the wonderful adventures to Chinatown, getting lost in the middle of nowhere, convincing Marisa's dad, oh and what not! Soon their little angel Sean would come to this world. The trio formed the happiest family ever. All he had left now were just photos. So many photos on so many different occasions. So many that his diary pages couldn't hold but only splash the black lines of the page with the vibes of life. Life was good.

They are all memories now. Precious memories he's locked away deep inside his heart. At least that way, no car will be able to kill them like Marisa and Sean.

"What if I went away one da--"
-"Don't you dare say that, okay?"

He still remembers that last kiss.

"Did you take your medicines yet?", Marisa would always remember asking him that everyday.

He'd been smiling, reminiscing those memories. But then he falls back to reality, as he realizes he hadn't taken his pills. Oh crap, not again.

He stands up and reaches out to the end table for his med-box but something happens and all on a sudden, he limps a little forward and succumbs to the floor, fainting.

He wakes up later, but there's something wrong with himself. He opens his eyes and finds that he's become a holographic image of his own self! His own body is lying on the floor, while he, in some futuristic form, is standing right beside himself. That's just absurd.

"I must be dreaming", he murmurs.

"Of course not. This is the reality. Why'd you say that?", it was a stranger's voice that came from behind his room, through the corridor. A soft satin curtain hung from the beam to the entrance of his room and a silhouette became noticeably distinct on the satin curtain. The shadowy figure came closer and appeared to be that of a person holding a candle. He entered the room.

The writer is startled with all this commotion. He asks the figure,"Who are you?“

"I'm you. Your inner voice. And I'm smarter than you," the mystical figure echoed.

Amused, the writer shakes his head and says,"Hah! You think you're me? And what exactly is it you think you can accomplish by being me?“ The figure continued,"I have come here to save you. I've come here to take you."

Laughing, he said,"Sure, sure."

"Don't you want to meet your family again?" He waves his right hand over the candle and as if magic, a fiery vision of his wife appeared.

Marisa: Honey? I miss you. (crying)

The writer is stunned and yelps,"Marisa, no! My baby!“ His voice weakens, moist with grief.

The figure once again waves his hand and now it transforms into his son.

Sean: Dad, look at my art, my teacher gave me an A!

"Sean..." Nostalgic pain hits the writer and he's on his knees, collapsed from the voices.

"They're all here, you know. I can take you to them."

"But how?“, he asks the figure.

The shadow grins with satisfaction and speaks,"Only if you give me your soul, will I be able to help you."

He knows who this shadow is. "You're not me. You're only cloaking my grief, aren't you, Death?"

The shadow is silent for a moment. It speaks again,"What a warm welcome from a friend. I assume we'll get things going nice and easy." He resumes,"Come with me. This is the best way to be close to THEM."

He thinks for a moment. He could let go of the daily shenanigans of life and die, and just be with them for eternity. He'd be in peace there. He looks down and looks back at Death. Death eagerly waits for him to hold his hand. One touch, and his life would be over.

He doesn't take Death's hand. He smiles at him and says,"You're not worth my time. Go away."

"I come all this way to you just to get rejected by you? Has life become more valuable to you than your family?", Death bounced back, scornfully.

"Yes. Here, on earth, I have a job, life, friends, inspiration and a lot more. I may have no family now, but I'll happily spend my days away with their memories." He smiles.

"Your family would be dismayed by this behavior of yours. That want to see you badly. You know that?"

"No, they wouldn't. They're happy with the way I am; alive and healthy."

Death begins to lose his temper. "What is life here with love and family? Who's mad enough to live in a harsh world?"

"The world was a lot more peaceful before you came to the scene. Maybe you want to try keep it that way?", the writer glared, now more confident than ever.

Death didn't like the tone with which this was said. However, the game was to be played within the rules. Thus, he settled back to his polite attitude.
He said,"And who do you call friends? These people you talk with everyday? These people? And you think they're the same as the face they show you? You're wrong. They're evil. They talk about you behind your back. Sooner or later, you'll find out yourself. Betrayal comes at a price. And this price is the chance that you'll never meet a friend like me again. You'll regret that."

He jerks his hand, as if he doesn't care about Death anymore. "You've already caused a lot of trouble in my life, you've taken away all I once called precious. You've made me miserable. I don't have to leave a life which I'm happy with."

Death is boiling with rage, he says,"This world is hopeless, there's nothing here for you. You're such a fool to mistake this hollow for comfort. Look at everything humans have done to this world! They kill each other for selfish greed, they destroy their own nature to make something more beautiful, which I don't think makes any sense. They're the children of wrath, whom God have forsaken. Hell is where they belong. Come with me, there's time left still."

He feels this tug of words will keep on going. And if that happens, there are chances he won't reunite with his body again. It's time to close this conversation.

"Death, I know your reasons are strong. But with that, I'd also like for you to know I'm strong too. Us, human beings were made with a passion. That is why, we still have not crumbled under the weight of this world. We fight, we starve, we die, but in the end we've sorted everything out. And there's peace once again. Look at me, I've not shattered, have I? A part of my heart is not where I wanted it to be, but I have moved on, haven't I? I may have only a few friends that are true to me, but aren't they all I ever require?"


"Time is a powerful teacher, Death. Time, unlike you is a healer."

"You can't-"

"I'm not forgetting you, old friend. With Time, we shall meet once again. But then I shall embrace you with my life. Goodbye..."

"Wait, please... ," Death cries. The writer swiftly reaches out for the candle and puts out the flame. And so, without light, Death vanished into the darkness. The writer felt heavy and proud. After a moment, his lights go out as well and he returns to his physical form.

He wakes up and finds himself lying on the floor of his room. He cleans himself and drinks a glass of water. The night was almost gone as the new sun would rise anytime soon. He sits back and now opens his notebook, now writing afresh. He continues where he left off the night earlier.

"Life is chaotic, like light. But with the beginning of the light, there comes a new force to our aid, Hope. As the tides of nature fights to rip us apart, our Hope holds us together. It is true that we shall return to darkness once again. But before death, let us all experience life to it's fullest. Let us condone all that life is. For without it, life would never be this bright... And it'd never smell of roses in the morning. Even though we rise and fall, we Hope. Although light will drag us to it's everlasting will, but there is Hope. Hope."

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