Charlotte Bond

Author, Editor and Podcaster

Those Who See

For Jim

The Don and a gentleman

Hidden under the table, Erika pulled her knees up to her chin. She had an idea who was at this village meeting, but she couldn’t identify them simply from their legs alone. One boot shifted, nearly catching her elbow and she scrunched herself up even tighter. Beyond the table was a roar of noise; so many voices talking at once that it was impossible to distinguish the individual words being said. Yet she knew they’d be shouting about one thing: the plague that was tearing through their village.

One voice was raised above all the rest. ‘If we are to resolve this, we must talk sensibly.’ The other voices fell into a grudging silence. Everyone respected Wilhem, the priest. Even Erika thought he was one of the least odious of the grown-ups. ‘Now, please raise your hands and–’

‘I know what we can do,’ said a gruff voice. The legs around Erika shifted as everyone turned to the speaker, whom Erika knew would be sitting by the fire. That’s were Old Morton always sat.

‘Yes?’ asked Wilhem, weariness in his voice. It was rare that Wilhem and Morton agreed on anything.

‘One of us can take a walk with death,’ Morton said darkly. ‘That way, the deaths will not have been–’ At that moment, one of the those sitting around Erika tried to cross his legs and smacked her on the chin. Erika cried out and suddenly faces were peering under the table and hands were hauling her out.

‘Get upstairs with you, girl!’ barked her aunt Gilda, the owner of the inn now that Erika’s parents and siblings were dead.

Erika tugged herself free of the restraining hands and sped towards the door, throwing a sullen glance over her shoulder, but everyone had already turned back to their own mutterings. No one had time for a scrawny, disobedient girl.

Erika stormed into the room that served as her sleeping quarters. When it had housed Erika, her parents and her little brother, Samuel, it had seemed unbearably cramped. Now it felt large and echoey. She slumped on the bed and thought about what Morton had said: “One of us can take a walk with death. That way, the deaths will not have been.”

If I can find Death, and walk with him, Erika thought, my parents and my brother won’t have died. She examined this idea from every angle, trying to see a problem with it: a simple walk, and she’d get her family back. It sounded easy so why hadn’t anyone else done it yet? An answer drifted into her head, filling her with sorrow: They still have people left to love.

Turning away from such dark thoughts, Erika scrambled out of the window and crept to the edge of the village. She hid behind a stone and waited. She remembered how her parents had bolted the door as soon as darkness began to fall. ‘Death is always abroad,’ her father had said, ‘but at night, he walks the streets, looking for souls to take.’

As the gloaming gathered around her, Erika watched the villagers hurry from the meeting at the inn to their homes where they would be bolting their own doors. Unease started to stiffen Erika’s muscles. She had felt no fear at her father’s story, but now, as the rosy sky darkened and the forest came alive with the sound of crepuscular creatures, she wished she was back in her bed at the inn. Yet when she thought of that empty room, her resolve surged back.

‘You are far from home, child,’ said a voice behind her. Erika spun round. A man with dark clothes and a pale face was standing on the road next to her. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, frayed around the edges, that should have cast his face into shadow, and yet it seemed as if his skin glowed with a light from within. His clothes had once been fine, but now were dusty and faded.

Erika stood up. A coldness had crept over her, which she felt sure was emanating from this man. ‘Are you Death?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can I walk with you?’

Death looked surprised. ‘You would willingly walk with me?’

‘Yes.’ Erika’s breath misted in the air, despite the fact that the evening was not chill.

‘Very well then.’ The pale man held out his hand.

Erika hesitated a moment, then took it. She nearly snatched her hand away again. Death’s skin was so cold it sent a shock through her, jolting her heart and making the hairs on her arms and neck stand up. But the sensation lasted only a moment, and then Death’s hand was merely cool to the touch.

Erika and the pale man walked down the centre of the village. She glanced from side to side, at the bolted doors and barred shutters. She wondered if anyone was peeking through, watching their progress down the street.

‘Why did you wait to walk with me?’ Death asked.

Erika thought about saying she just wanted to, but her lie would be too blatant. Who would want to walk with Death? ‘Old Morton said that if I walked with you, the death of my family would not have been.’

Death looked puzzled. Erika felt a shift in the air, and thought she heard familiar words on the breeze, as if the whole conversation was being replayed nearby. ‘Ah,’ said Death, ‘he meant that your family’s deaths shall not have been in vain.’

Erika felt a chill run through her. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means that they will still be dead, but others would not.’ Erika’s eyes felt hot with tears and she turned her face away from the pale man at her side.

When they had walked the length of the village, Death stopped and knelt down. His skin was as white as bone, his eyes were completely black, but his expression was soft. ‘Anyone who walks with me is offered a choice: they can walk with me forever. They would grow old and die and, with them by my side, I would grow old and die too. There would be no more death for this world.’

Erika sniffed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. ‘What’s the other choice?’

Death pointed over her shoulder. Erika turned. There, in the shadows at the edge of the forest, stood her parents and her brother. Their skin was fresh and healthy, not blackened and bloated by disease.

‘They’re alive!’ Erika cried.

‘No. Look.’ Death pointed back the way they’d come. Erika saw, at the far side of the village, a small body lying lifelessly on the ground. Her body.

‘I’m dead,’ she said hollowly.

‘Yes.’

Erika looked at her family. ‘And the other choice is to go with them?’

‘Yes. But if you do, the whole village will die. That is the price of someone seeking out death.’

Erika slipped her hand from his. ‘I don’t care about them,’ she said quietly. ‘I just want Ma and Pa and Samuel. Please can I go now?’ Death reached out and gripped her gently but firmly. There was pleading in his eyes. ‘If you came with me, there would be no more death for anyone in this world. It is not much, to ask you to be my companion. I could show you many places, many people.’

‘Would they all be dead people?’

Death paused then said, ‘Yes.’

Erika stepped back and he let her go. ‘I think I’ll just go with them,’ she said, pointing to her family. For a moment, she thought Death might seize her and drag her with him. Instead, he sighed and stood up.

‘Then you should go.’

Erika turned and ran to her family, filled with a joy so intense it almost hurt. Her mother swept Erika up in arms as warm and comforting as Erika remembered. Her father kissed her head, told her how much he’d missed her and then picked up Samuel. Together, they walked into the forest.

Death watched the family fade from this world. ‘Those who see are never the ones who stay,’ he murmured. Then he turned and walked back through the village. Alone. Again.

Copyright Charlotte Bond 2018
All rights reserved
This story or any portion may not be reproduced or used without the express permission of the author.

Copyright 2015-2021 Charlotte Bond
"Northern Lights over Low Row" Copyright Sandra Cockayne