On a Pale Horse, I ride

“You never knew you’d be a hot commodity on the other side of Hell. ”

         The darkness surrounding him is incomplete; it is interrupted by the pale glimmering of the monitoring machines and the sad music they sing. His body is bound to his bed by IV drips and monitoring strips, yet the closer he slips toward Death’s door, the more agitated his mind becomes. 

He feels the push-pull between his mind’s reluctance to go and his body’s insistence that it must. And thus, he wavers in that daydream known as hospice: faces, some familiar, some not, float in and out of consciousness as he lies there. No longer sure which faces are real or which, he hews from his memory; he sighs, knowing it does not matter. He enjoys their now deprecating parade as the medical machines take over more of his bodily functions. At night, the silence of his room rings like a bell, a great iron bell. Alone in the dark, he searches his mind for a reason, a reason for waiting.

Scanning the room, he notices a void, a dark nothing that is only apparent when silhouetted by the cracks of moonlight peeking its way through the heavy curtains. He looks again, but it is gone. Having long ago given up on any surety of what is real and what is a hallucination, he slowly blinks his eyes to reset his one-room reality. There it is again, only now it is more significant. He feels its presence come closer and closer until he experiences the dark breath on his cheek.

“Are you ready?” Death whispers. 

The dying man blinks his eyes again, not trusting his senses. He attempts to rattle his head to clear his mind, but he can not. He tries to cover his ears, but his arms are bound to the bed. His mind pleas to make it go away, but the words come again,

“Are you ready?” These words echoed through him, eventually rattling to rest in his old bones. He responds with a woeful moan that escapes from his lips like a hiss.

The shadow crystalizes into a towering, hooded figure that bends majestically over his bed. Its words stick to him like sap as it speaks, “Are you ready …. for a new adventure?”

Again, its words rattled in his head. He internalizes the question, am I ready, ready for adventure? What kind of question was that? I’m not too far gone to know I’m a goner. Am I ready? (are you friken kidding me!) Foouk off you wanker! 

Then, as if in response to his thoughts, the shadow replies, “The last glorious act of defiance. I love it. You are at Death’s door, still spitting nails and giving Death the middle finger.” 

Could it hear my thoughts? Nah, it must be a figment of my imagination—just a delirium of my proximity to the bitter end. 

With the finesse of a salesman, the shadow in the darkness continued, “Adam, I am for real. I am one of the two Eternals in the lives of men, and I am not the taxman, that heartless bastard.” Death paused. “So, Adam, are you ready?” The man ponders, ready for what?

In reply, the shadow speaks. “I am glad you asked. Are you ready to go on your next adventure? To go to places you never got to visit during your oh-so-fleeting life. To visit strange new lands, meet the people there and share in the biggest times of their lives. Are you ready for the next chapter in the never-ending story of your life?”

Adam thought, another chapter in my life, indeed? My mind was squirming for some way out of the inevitable, for some way to cheat Death. “Adam, I can tell you, from my personal experience, that no one and no thing cheats Death!”   

Clearing his throat, the darkness beyond continues, “That brings me to my proposition. I am here tonight to give you the opportunity of (cough) a lifetime.” Death pulls out his gold pocket watch and continues, “And your life clock is ticking fast! Do you feel that your life was too short? You never had the time, energy, or money to complete all the items on your bucket list. I know how it is. I used to be where you are now, sick, tired and knocking at Death’s door. Tonight, I am here to tell you it doesn’t have to be over. Let me ask you, in your lifetime, were you a hard worker?”

The old man mutters, “Yes,” then pauses in thought and resumes, “Hell yes, I worked my ass off, and all I got was a government stipend and doubled-fingered Fuck off.”

Death brought his left hand to his chin and said, “And how did that make you feel?”

Without hesitation, the old man said, “Cheated, angry, and ornery.” 

Death stood up and paced around Adam’s deathbed before he resumed, “Cheated, angry, and ornery, I know, I know. I felt the same way; That’s why I jumped at this offer.” He pointed to a screen floating at the foot of the old man’s bed. Death’s voice takes a critical tone as he points to the screen. “This was you when you were younger. Isn’t that Bob Rogers? Wasn’t he the twerp that schemed his way into that management position that should have been yours?” As the images faded, Death continued. “Adam, you lived a castaway’s life adrift on an ocean of assholes, and now you are gonna die.”

Adam felt his blood boil, then blurted out without volition, “Those wankers screwed me out of everything.” 

Death walks over and pats Adam on the shoulder. “You got screwed, and they got away with it.” Death sighed. “Adam, how’d you like to get even?”

Adam stiffens, then asks, “Get even; how? Look at me; I can’t even get out of bed. How can I get even?”

Death bends down and whispers in Adam’s ear, “Adam, imagine standing over old Bob Rogers, kinda like I am standing over you now and telling the old twerp it’s time to go. Wouldn’t you like that?” 

“Oh man, would I!” Adam shouted. “I’d look that conniving son of a bitch straight in the eyes and tell him I’m here to send his sorry ass down to hell.”

Death beams as he walks down to the foot of Adam’s bed and stops next to the floating screen. “Adam, that’s only the beginning. Look here.” Pointing back to the screen. “Depending on how good a job you do, there are many perks along the way. Once you reach the Bronze level, about a hundred souls a week, you’ll graduate from that pale horse to a brand-new car. See that sparkling new white Mustang convertible? It’ll be yours. Doesn’t that sound sweet, Adam?”

Adam eagerly nodded his head.

As clear as a ringing bell, Death continues. “Adam, look at this pyramid chart. That’s you on top. You’ll grow your base by recruiting others. Your team will help you work your way up the Bronze, Silver, Gold, and, ultimately, Platinum ranks. Guess what you’ll be driving when you reach Platinum?”

Adam shrugged.

“Adam, you’ll be driving your own Ferrari. See that pale-white convertible Ferrari rolling off the assembly line? That could be yours.”

Adam’s eyes grew wide. “I’d get my own Ferrari. I always dreamed of owning a Ferrari.” 

“Adam, it’d be you and me racing our Ferraris down the Monaco coastline. Can’t you see it?”   

Adam closes his eyes and imagines racing down the winding roads overlooking the Mediterranean. Opening his eyes, he notices that the floating screen is gone and in its place is the dark monolith of Death.  

Death spread his arms in a silhouette indistinguishable from a massive blackbird about to take flight. In a flat yet welcoming voice, Death asks again, “Are you ready?” 

Adam fills the darkness of his room with the joys of youth and the pain of regret. He breathes in deeply and holds it. As he exhales, he says, “Yes, I am ready.” 

Well, that’s the way I remember it. 

So my question to you each of you is:

“Are you ready?”

Listen to this story.

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