Cheating Death

A shadowy figure brushed past the hospital curtain and appeared at the end of the bed. A dark hood masked the skeletal face, and a scythe clattered against his bony hands. ‘Death,’ thought the old man, ‘has come for me.’ He considered adding a ‘finally’, but decided that just because he had had numerous near death experiences, it did not mean he was ready to die.

Death looked startled. ‘Of course you are ready to die.’ He looked down at himself, ‘I’m here aren’t I?’ He waited for the old man to nod, somewhat less than enthusiastically. ‘Then you must be ready.’
‘But I’m not!’ the old man continued to protest. ‘I want to get married –‘
‘You have – three times.’
‘Have kids –‘
‘How many more do you want?!’
‘Take a trip around the world –‘
‘Again! Look, you’ve cheated me before. NO MORE!’ Death picked up the old man’s hospital chart and flicked a bony finger over the graphs and comments “…failing heart, low muscle tone, high blood pressure, beginning of cancerous cells in the liver…”
‘I’m afraid, my friend, that you can’t survive for much longer.’
‘I’ll make you a deal!’ the old man flailed wildly for an excuse, any excuse, to continue living.

Death sighed. ‘Every time we go through this, and every time you cheat me. I’m starting to be a laughing stock among the other “Reapers”’
‘This time,’ the old man continued his wild ravings. ‘I’ll let you choose the challenge.

Death looked interested, so interested in fact, he almost missed the fleeting thoughts through the old man’s mind. He looked up startled. ‘No! You will not find a way to stay on this earth longer. If,’ Death stressed the if. ‘If I set a challenge, you will not complete it successfully. It will be, and only be, a chance for me to gain face in the “Other World”.’
‘I am willing to take that chance,’ replied the old man.
‘Good,’ whispered Death, his hollow voice echoing around the room. ‘This, then, is your challenge…’

The old man watched the hour clock tip for the one hundred and twentieth time – not that he was counting mind you, but one did tend to notice when minutes were ticking off one’s life.

He continued his slow, rhythmic plucking of clovers, determined to find that all-important four leafed clover. The one which would save his life, and cheat Death.

“POOF!”
Death appeared beside the old man. He tapped a bony finger on the glass thoughtfully. Only minutes remained.

The sand hissed through the glass, when –
‘I’ve found it!’
‘Impossible!’
‘But I have!’ The old man waved the clover.
‘No!’ cried Death. ‘That’s not how it’s supposed to work!’ Death continued his rant ‘Time is supposed to run out. The glass shatters. You look up at me dejectedly. I laugh triumphantly’ Death practised his unnecessary laugh. ‘Then I cut your life’s breath. I return, a hero among the other “Reapers”. Now, let’s do it how it’s supposed to be done. You put down the clover, and pretend you haven’t seen it, and we’ll take it from there.’ Death crossed his arms expectantly.

The old man looked from the clover in his hand to Death. ‘But I found it.’
‘No, No, No, No, No!!’ Death waved a threatening, bony fist. ‘You can’t find it. You’re not supposed to find it!’
‘But…’ the old man proffered the clover.

Death threw down his scythe. ‘That’s it! – I QUIT!’ Death stormed off the hill, walking into the distance, through to the “Other World”.

The old man cackled, softly, triumphantly. His eyes twinkled, and he thanked his stars that Death had no eyes. He couldn’t see his clover, his lucky clover, the one with only three leaves.