Death came to me in the night. I felt its touch. I felt its movement. I felt its limbs wrap around me as I lay belly down, arms folded and tucked under me, my hands  joined at my chest, as if I were praying.  

As I lay in bed, seemingly lost in a web of dreams but much nearer to the surface  than I knew, I noticed my door open. It was closer than I remembered, it didn’t  open  fully, not even halfway, but its movement was strong.  I could see nothing  behind it, only black; it was not darkness, only emptiness. Someone or something  came through and though I did not see what it was, I felt it. I wondered if it was  my  mother  in  the  room,  I  could  see  no  shapes  and  hear  no  sound  but  I  felt  a  presence, like when morning comes and you are gently being rocked awake.  

I  felt its  touch.  I  felt it  on my arms  before anything else, while I  could  still  feel  myself.  I  felt its  arm  press  down  against mine, just  under my  right  elbow,  and  slide down to wrap its tight grip around my wrist. Its other hand, on my left side,  moved  as  decidedly  from  my  waist  into  the  centre  of  my  abdomen,  the  concentration of my warmth frozen by its touch. I wondered again if it could be  my mother, holding me tightly. I felt its body settle down in mine and I felt myself  become paralysed, taking on the weight of particles I could never consist of, the  weight  of  an  inanimate  creature,  void  of  air,  void  of  breath,  void  of  life;  the  weight  of  a  corpse. And  then I  felt like  a  child,  this  time without any motherly  protection. I  felt scared and isolated in the dark, with a presence containing me  in  its  overbearing  power.  I  felt  the  pressure  on  my  arms  and  torso  close  in  menacingly but I never felt pain, only deeply frightened.  

I  felt my legs against  the mattress like logs  buried  deep in  the  dirt after  rain.  I  told  them  to  move, I  asked  and  then  I  begged  them.  I  felt  as  if  every  attempt  made  them  heavier  and  decidedly  less  responsive.  Confusion  and  panic  can  quickly turn into very similar emotions and eventually become indistinguishable.  What were  these masses attached  to my body  that would not let me escape? It  felt like they had been placed there to hold me down. I focused on them, thought  about  the  times they  had  been mine  to  control and  tried  to  recreate  the  exact  paths of synapsis to achieve movement. I never felt pain.  

I  felt  nothing  as  I  attempted  to  contract  the  muscles  in  a body  that  had  once  obeyed my orders.  I understood  then,  I  knew they were no longer mine. Death  had come to me in the night to deliver its touch and take me away, away from my  body, away from here.  

I felt it smile when it knew I understood. Death is not a person, it has no body, it  wears no cape, it is not a being like you or  I: it is a presence, it is a  force and it  came to me in the night.  

From  a  very  young  age,  as  far  as  my  memories go,  I  have  had  the  same  nightmare: I find myself facing somebody who is there to hurt me and when I try  to run, I am paralyzed, pinned to the ground. When I try to scream for help, my  voice  is  gone,  mute.  They  stare  at  me  mockingly  and  smile.  The nightmare is  helplessness before danger, helplessness before Death. 

Panic  overpowered  confusion  now  as  I  became  aware  of  my  weakness.  There  were people in the house; I could scream for help, I could fight. I felt myself tense  from the very depth of my core and attempt to push force with all my strength up  through my body and force my mouth open. My lips remained pressed together  and my jaw stayed put, sleeping against the warm pillow. If  I couldn’t scream, I  could whine, I could push any loud sound from within. I tensed even harder. The  harder I tried to push, the more powerless I felt. I tried for my legs again; maybe  if it focused on my voice, it would forget my legs long enough to move them. The  logs had become heavier; they felt even more detached from me. I tried to press  my hands against  the mattress and  raise myself up but its grip  tightened and  I  became heavier, sinking even further into the surface.  

I was still there; I still had breath, the last thing it could take before we went. My  breath would be the last to go. If I could not scream, I would have to breathe loud  enough  for  help  to come.  I  filled  my  lungs  with  air,  I  felt  the  rush  graze my  insides and occupy every chamber. I drove it out just as fiercely and began again  and again, each time faster. I could feel the sound of each inhale and exhale bang against  my  eardrums,  stronger  and  coarser  every  time,  repeating  the  words  “please,  please,  please” in my mind.  I  started  to  become  tired  but  the weaker I  felt,  the harder  I pushed. Please, please, please. My  furious breath was  the only  sound in the room, on the verge of hyperventilating; it was the only sign of real  life I had left.  

I  felt us struggle, my panting becoming more draining every second. The  terror  and battle  for air clouded my mind with desperation. It might have gone on  for  hours  but  its  grip  was  so  forceful  that  I  don’t  think  it  was more  than  a  few  seconds  before  it  oppressed  me  into  exhaustion.  As  I  felt  myself  become  weakened to  near  unconsciousness,  I  wondered  why  I  was  struggling  at  all.  I  thought to myself: maybe if you let go it won’t feel so bad, let it take you and you  will feel no pain, this can be over. I felt its smile and I released.  

When the tide pulls you too far from shore, the only thing to do is to give in and  the waves will  push  you  back  eventually.  I  gave in;  I  stopped  panting,  pushing  and probably even breathing for a few moments. I gave myself into its will. If my  time  had  come,  I  could  only  accept it  and  go.  If  not  today,  then  tomorrow,  but  someday I would go. And so I let go.  

Perhaps Death took pity on me. I felt a wave of grace, as if a smile could roll over  and through all of me. I felt a weight lift as life and lightness regained my entire body. I felt air inside me and blood rush through my limbs. I curled my toes into  the mattress and pushed my ankles back as my legs stretched  far back and my  knees lifted off,  feeling  the light air under my  thighs.  I pressed my hands down  and  rolled  onto  my  back  as  I  opened  my  mouth  and  took  a  big  gulp  of  air,  gasping. Cold  tears ran down  from my eyes, moistening my hair and  the pillow  under it.  

I looked around and saw my door closed shut. My breath grew calmer and as  I  lulled back to sleep, I knew I was alone again. Death had gone in the night. 

By: Anonymous