The Death’s Hand

by Serena Mossgraves

     The old house had many shadows. Some still moved, others had forgotten even how to do that. The child looked confused, and as she did at least once per day, asked the same question. ” Tell me again Grandma, how did we die?” The grandmother sighed. She knew that the child could no longer help her memory escaping, but it was beginning to be difficult even for her. The fog in her memory made the daily story change slightly.
    Still, it seemed to calm the child. So she sat down and motioned for the child to join. Then she began. “We moved into this house before you were born. Back then it was your mother, your father, and me. The house had so much extra space and it was so cheap that it felt like a dream. We were here when your mom discovered she was pregnant. We were so excited that you would join us.”
   As always the child interrupted. “Where is mommy? And Daddy? Did they not love us anymore?”
  Indulgently, the grandmother continued as she had every night before. “They still live child. They love us and grieve for us every day. We have died and we are staying together here. Do not fret child. We have each other.”
Hugging  the child close, and being grateful again that ghosts could touch each other, the grandmother continued. “This house had dark things living in the dark spaces. Things that we did not know about when we moved in. You were such a bright light when you were born that we nearly could ignore that darkness.  We lived here with you for two years. Then the darkness got worse. We started to react to it.”
The child shivered in  her arms, afraid of the darkness that they knew was dangerous. Grandma hesitated, as always afraid that the child may be to innocent to understand the story told. Though she had been telling the story for nearly fifty years, the child was only three when they died. It seemed cruel to her that they remained. She found herself wondering why the hand of death otherwise known as the reaper had not shown themselves to lead the shades to the afterlife. It worried her.
Still, to comfort the child she continued with the story.
The grandma never questioned how she was able to speak. The only thing she cared about was that she could give the child comfort.
“The darkness was something that we didn’t understand. I died first. I died in my sleep. The family was sick with grief, and I was unable to communicate with them. I remained like that for a whole year before you joined me. I did not expect to see you so soon. You were following a shadow from your room and fell down the stairs. Your parents were lost in their grief and left the house. Too much evil hqd happened here. Now we await Death’s Hand to lead us to the afterlife.”
The child looked at grandma confused.”When will they come ? Will we be able to see mommy and daddy again ?”
Grandma smiled softly “They will join us when it is their time..I believe that Death’s Hand will come to lead us home when we four are joined again.”
With the child calmed down and the story done, Grandma settled in with the child and pretended she was not worried about the time they had been there. The house was something outside of time. She was afraid as she didn’t know how to end the eternity of the darkness that they have existed in.