On Death's Door

An ambrose malaise had hung over me for several days. For weeks prior I had had bouts of light fever that would disappear, then reemerge. My arms and legs becoming heavy as though weighted, as my temperature rose and then fell. I hid all of my symptoms though, not telling anyone I was sick. I thought I had multiple good reasons. I didn’t want to inconvenience any of my friends, I didn’t want people to feel sorry for me, I didn’t want to be put in a hospital. And I didn’t want to be told I could be dying. My loneliness then increased. I avoided playing any games or going on any social media, now I only looked, scrolling then not even bothering to look at messages from friends. Like a cancerous sore on the inside of my skull, the weight of sadness and self-doubt gnawed endlessly at every right to self-worth I once had. Now in my weakened stake, it seemed to surround me like a predator closing in on a weakened prey.  Now this past week, I finally felt a cold misery consuming my body. As my joints felt hot and painful to move, while the muscles in my hands struggled to do the simplest task. Everything would slip through my fingers as I didn’t have the strength to grab it. And then some days I couldn’t open my hands at all, needing to force my fingers to open with my teeth. My mouth had become dry like sandpaper and eyes wedged shut with yellow bile every morning. As I stared up at the ceiling, my breathing becoming labored as I felt my heart palpitate, I wracked my brain why I had never told anyone. In that moment praying for someone to come and save me.Then as heart palpations pumped through my chest, wringing in my lungs like thundering bells, I saw the outline of a person at the end of my bed. Darkness hovered around her as though a hallow, framing her face. And light shown off her though it illuminated nothing and casted no shadow. It only served to project her image closer to me. Dark and dreadful with an appearance of pale somberness. Eyes slowly shifting through strands of dark hair. She hugged to her side a wooden instrument, crude and rusted along its edges. A scythe at the ready.

 Her voice was soft and elegant, whispering “Many have walked your path before you, now it is your time to do the same. As they were, you will be.” Raising the point of her blade upwards over my head.

 “W-wait wait!!” I shouted, stumbling over my words. “You like to play games, right??” Her gaze narrowed as the blade remained frozen over me.

 “Yeah, yeah, you like to play games? I challenge you for my life. If you win, I’ll go with you, no questions asked. If I win, I keep my life. Deal?” She paused for a moment, blinking twice.

 “Yes,” she whispered. My eyes watching as she lowered her blade. Her body collapsed as she kneeled on the floor. “Name your game.”

 I tried to clutch my chest as my breathing was still intense. “Uuuhm…” My eyes darted. “I know this game called chess? You ever heard of it?”