Dear Deathmonger
Can I ask you some questions?
I’m Sushritha. Maybe you know me. Do you know me? I’m the one who always thinks about you. Do you hear any of my whispers? NO? Next time, you need to listen to me carefully. You will, I know. I am so happy writing this letter at last. Can I ask you some questions? Would you mind? Or will you scribble my name first on your list next? If yes, then please don’t. I want to live a little more. A little more.
Okay, with not much drama, I’ll get to my questions straight away.
Do people bargain when you go take their lives? What is it like seeing people die? Do you make them stay at least until their cremation? Do you take them to Hell and Heaven, both, or would you just lead them to their destinations? What’s it like where you live? Are you alone? Do you have a family? Is there a society like this where you live? What do people come to do there, after their death?
Are you the mediator between people and God? Did you ever meet him? How does Heaven look? And Hell? Do you kill people, or do you just take their souls away with you after their death? Do you have a scythe with you? Do people irritate you there? Does anyone talk to you? At least, do they try? Did you ever want to die? Are you a ghost or something? Why are people afraid of you? Do you scare them? Do you look thaaaat awful?
Did you ever want to leave that job? Did you ever wish not to take that person’s life? Anyone you love? What is the age of the youngest person on your journey abode? And the oldest one’s? Did you ever want to sacrifice yourself or take punishment just to save a soul? Did anyone make you think? Do you know what it is to love? What it’s like to have a family? Should I stop? I don’t know, but I still have so many questions.
When people talk about you, wait… first, they don’t want to talk about you, but, when they do, they make you a villain of their stories. They don’t even think about your side of the story. This is how people are here. I just hope some people look after you. My mom says, if I ever want to meet you, I should be in a position where I have no regrets, surrounded by the people I love, and who love me, with a heart full of satisfaction and willingness to leave my body. I just wish I will meet you only then.
Can you do me a favor? When you come to take me, will you come along with a sunflower? And let me see the illusion of a flower garden. Okay? Will you do this one favor for me?
And one more thing, are you happy?
A young star ready to die to fulfill her wishes,
Sushritha.
P.S: Wrote this a year and a half back when I was thinking about death. I seriously don’t remember why I wrote: “A young star ready to die to fulfill her wishes” in the end. Today, it makes little sense to me. But as Elio says, It should have made sense when I wrote it ;)
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