To Wilt by Djordje Negovanovic

Death loved Life, and she loved him, too. 

Life was everything and nothing. Her skin, translucent and radiant, was the sun, and her shining eyes the millions of stars. Her small mouth was the clouds and her hair was the singing forests. Life sang, passionate and golden, and green was brought to the world. Life wept, and water nourished the land. Life slumbered, and there were nights of twilight.

Death was nothing and everything. His figure, shrouded in a tattered cloak, was a colorless mass. He was definition; he defined the end of green, the end of water, the end of twilit nights. Death brought peace in a vibrant and deafening world. With Death, things could be seen on the blinding land.

“The world is empty,” Life said to Death once.

“But you’ve filled it with such wonder,” he replied.

Life thought for a moment. “There should be others to see it, too.”

“Can it not be just us? Our little universe?”

“Something like this should be shared.”

“But I share it with you.”

“Do you love me, Death?”

Death breathed. “Always and forever.”

“Then please, love my children too.”

And so Life created humans. Singing, crying, dancing humans, who saw Life’s creations and rejoiced. Sweet, fleshy fruit was feasted upon, crystalline water quenched thirst, and fire lit the quiet nights. Life taught them celebration, indulgence, and pleasure. Death taught them mourning, quiet, and fear.

But he also taught them love.

“Life, are you happy with your creations?” Death asked Life once.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” she replied with dismissal.

“You have created hedonists,” Death said, “who ravage your fruits and tear asunder your animals. Life, is that love?”

“Death, it is for you to teach them love.”

“Then why must you teach them hatred?”

Life thought for a moment.

“Do you love me, Death?”

“Always and forever.”

“Then please, love my children too.”

And so Death complied.

Death quelled the ceaseless screeching of the vibrant world and brought limits to its color. Death hoped to teach the humans of restraint, of patience, of contentment. But the people were ravenous for Life’s gifts.

Building boats from the flesh of desecrated trees, they ripped through the world’s sapphire waters. Sea creatures were stolen from the waters and torn apart with the humans’ teeth. Fire filled the world with smoke and blinding light. Singing and screaming violated the quiet of the night. The humans laughed heartily in the face of Death and spat in it gold pieces and red wine. “Death is a coward!” they screamed and sang, rocking their ships with song.

Yet Death still loved Life’s children.

Then Death witnessed violence. As two ships from two different lands crossed paths on the open sea, hunger overtook the humans. Each sought after each other’s wares and prizes, and created cannons and swords and guns. The humans invaded each other’s boats, feasted upon each other’s treasures, and stole each other’s lives. And so there was blood.

Death watched with tears in his hollow eyes. He watched as Life’s own children slaughtered each other and brought premature ends to her creations. In mourning, he collected the withered, and death was brought to the world. Why, he thought. Why must humans be so unquenchable?

“Life,” Death said to her once, holding her quiet children in his long, forgiving arms, “look at me.”

Life did not. “I will not look at the bodies of my children.”

“They do this to each other.”

“No.”

“Why do they hate you so?”

Life looked at Death, her eyes avoiding the gray corpses. From her eyes, golden pools of light flooded and stained her rose cheeks. “Do you love me, Death?”

Death looked at her, unwavering. “Always and forever.”

“Then please,” she choked, “love my children.”

And so Death did.

Death returned to the world and noticed a silence in the once boisterous world. The seas, once full of emerald greens and shining scales, were now gray and empty. The wind that once sang so beautifully breathed its final current. The deep, lush forests of trees harbored no more fruit to eat. Life’s creations were disappearing.

Death scoured through the land, searching for the vibrant life that once dominated the beautiful world. He danced on the last of clouds, flew with the last of birds, breathed the last of air. Each and every forest he looked upon was replaced with an empty, scorching desert, each village dominated with the corpses of fallen humans, ravenous even in death. Looking upon their colorless bodies, he noticed hands reaching for the nearest glass of wine, or the closest sliver of gold. Death was filled with worry. Life’s creations were fading from the world. From their little universe.

And then he found it. An oasis, still filled vigorously with color. Waterfalls brought a light mist to the soft land, animals laying in the shade of whistling trees. There was still light left, still the beauty that Life had created in the beginning. It would not be lost. Death vowed to never claim such a land.

“It was a mistake,” Life shouted at Death once, “to have you teach my children love. Now they love you and follow in your destruction. They kill each other and destroy my world for you.”

Death cried. “They do not do such things out of love. They do so out of hatred. The hatred you had taught them.”

Life cried. “Do you love me, Death?” she said through shining tears.

Death’s voice did not falter. “Always and forever.”

“Then please, love my children.”

And Death would.

Returning to the world, to the one haven that still stood, Death screamed in anguish. The last of the humans were descending on the untouched territory, spilling each other’s blood over the pure grass. The oasis shrunk and shrunk as dead, gray plants stood in the place where living ones once were and animals dissolved into silent, rotting carcasses. The haven would be no more, and the world would be gone. With arms wide, Death descended onto the shrinking patch of life, grasping at something, anything, that he could preserve.

Once silence overtook the world, Death looked over. And his little universe was gone.

In his hands, he held a small green seed. The last of Life.

“Life, Life!” Death screamed, returning from the hushed world.

There was no reply. Death could not find her.

“Life!”

And there she was, lying in a quiet, gray, wilted heap, her body still.

Life looked at him finally, her eyes heavy, the stars gone. “Do you love me, Death?” Life once asked.

“Always and forever,” Death sobbed, the seed in his hands.

And Life was silent.

Djordje Negovanovic

Image by Manfred Richter from Pixabay-single green shoot in stone soil