My dear mum who I love so much and was my strength. Being the youngest I was her Pet. My mom was finally diagnosed with pancreatic cancer after 2 years. She was assured that her chances are very good and surgery will be scheduled ASAP. After 2 years of pain and depression, and giving up on God - mom's spirits were up again. We were so happy to see mom sit up in her hospital bed with all her spiritual books back by her side. She was so bubbly and happy. She had been given another chance. She got a bombshell the following day, cancer had spread too much into her liver and nothing could be done. Mom was given 6 months when she was discharged. Mom passed away 7 days later. I was devastated. I needed mom so much. I was not ready to lose her. I just prayed and prayed and prayed for a miracle.

The "last night" Mom's breathing became heavier and heavier. We were told the time was getting closer and kept vigil in the room with mom. We were advised to open all the windows and doors. It was already 4-5 am. My mom's brother who she loved so dearly left saying he will be back later. I could not take listening to moms breathing anymore. I just closed my ears and ran upstairs. A short while later my sis said: "you better come down now." At that time everyone else in the house was in the room with mom - then I walked in - mom's face was facing me.

I am very thankful and blessed that I witnessed Mom's passing. The memory of the opening her eyes and crying when I walked in reaffirmed my connection with mom which I so greatly treasure. Mom death changed my life for the better I learned to treasure and appreciate my love ones because they could be here today and gone tomorrow

My steps quickened as I hurried home, nervously adjusting my tie. I couldn’t wait to tell Lisa. This was the big break both of us needed. Tom could grow up in sunny Australia instead of miserable, dark alleyways. I crept into our apartment, a bouquet of roses behind my back. Silence. Tom wasn’t home yet, but where was Lisa? The phone rang. My heart dropped like a stone. “The hospital?” When I got there it looked like it may be too late. Lisa lay in front of me, her hair fanned out on the pillow, as grey as her mother’s. Her eyes were glazed over, glassy and unseeing. For a moment, she looked like a corpse already, but then she croaked a weak “Hey there.” How could a cough progress to something like this? It had happened too quickly. And on this day... I had thought nothing could ruin my morning. Well, I had been wrong. Lisa’s mother and father entered the ward. Sandwiched between them was Tom, as small and slight as ever. His unhealthy complexion could improve so much when in Australia. But how could we even think of going now? Lisa knew. She saw my expression: guilty and pitiful and miserable. Without saying anything, she placed her hand over where mine was resting on the bedside table. A silent reassurance. I knew what was going to happen. She whispered, “Go for it.” I shook my head adamantly, not bothering to wipe away the tears forming in my eyes. Lisa’s expression became stern; then she let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes. This was happening too fast. I gulped, as my eyes blurred and everything seemed to be muted. As I stood up, a hand clutched mine and Lisa let out a rasping laugh that sounded more like a bad cough. “Go for it, you idiot.” I didn’t get a chance to argue - she was snoring away. I entered the ward an hour later, grabbing a coffee after feeling too ill to eat. Lisa was still snoring, her mouth parted and her nose turned up. As soon as I leaned over her, she opened her eyes and said, “ Goddamit, Simon, if you don’t take this opportunity, I’m gonna take you with me six feet under.” Then she died. We took the old hag’s ashes to Australia; maybe a bit of sun would make her feel a little more alive.

Buck was old. It was time for his final ride into the sunset, and he knew it. He had called his family to his bedside. His wife had passed several winters ago, so it was just his son, Bill, and daughter, Amelia, that remained.

It was warm and sunny outside in this desert town, but Buck was under a blanket. A scratchy one, to match his calloused hands and stubble. His fever had drained his strength, and Bill helped him sit up on a throne of pillows. “Thank you, son,” he coughed and wheezed, “my strong Billy boy.” Buck managed a weak smile, but his eyes showed real joy. “Pa, I’m a man now, don’t call me that,” Bill tried to brush it off, but his voice cracked and gave him away. “Oh hush, you two,” said Amelia, ever the serious one, “can I get you anything, pa?” “My sweet Amelia, I just want your company.” She began to cry. She didn’t want this.

“We can call the doctor-“ she sobbed. “Darling girl, it’s my time,” he said it calmly, trying to soothe her, “you can’t fight fate-“ he had a coughing fit, and his handkerchief came away bloody, “- because you’ll always lose. I’ve called y’all here because I have to tell ya some things before I go.” He paused, to make sure they were listening. “Yeah, pa?” asked Bill. “My fortune. It’s buried beneath the floorboards in the saloon.” “I knew it!” Amelia exclaimed, “you were an outlaw!” “I was,” he admitted. A deathbed confession. “There’s enough there for both of you to live a good life,” he smiled, “chase your dreams... I turned my life around, after I met your mother,” he smiled, remembering his beautiful Lucille, “I’m gonna see her soon...” “Say hi to her for us,” Amelia instructed. “We love you, pa.” choked Bill.

Buck slipped away, surrounded by love.

On the other side of town, Annie stirred. She’d fallen asleep outside- on guard. This noon heat made her drowsy. She meandered over to the well, and took a long, refreshing drink.

She’d had to join this band of thieves, as a lookout, to keep her landlord happy. Her work at the saloon wasn’t bringing in enough money and her husband had run off with a red-headed prostitute. That hadn’t made her sad. It just meant she didn’t have to worry about smothering him anymore- he loved to beat her blue after an evening at the bar.

Big Joe waltzed over to her. “Hey Annie,” he winked, “how’s it goin’?” “All right,” she shrugged. “Well it’s about to get better!”, his eyes sparkled, “you’re gonna go on an adventure! Tom and I were talkin-“ “In between kisses,” she teased. “Hush!” He blushed, “someone might hear.”

Within a day Annie had been promoted from lookout to outlaw. She’d gotten her own horse, and finally left that house full of bad memories.

As she road into the sunset, she knew: this is just the beginning.

Dark magic was simple in concept, but difficult in reality. It had a vast amount of uses: the unrivalled strength to kill your enemies, the vile wrath to poison hordes of people, and the ability to grant life at the cost of death. This final aspect was what drew Alexander to learn that which was the most taboo of magic. His childhood love had been struck down by an unknown ailment, dooming her to a short and miserable life. Standard magic had done nothing for her, aside from confirming her illness to be magical in nature. Her only cure was death.

Death, however, could be made temporary.

Alexander has thrown himself into the research of the dark arts, leading him to find a solution. He would have to let her pass, confirm the illness had left her body, and then revive her again. A muffled whine came from the back of the room as he scoured his books, confirming the fine details of the plan. With a sigh, he got up from his chair. Bound to a bed was an unfortunate traveller, who picked the wrong time to go on an adventure. A vagrant that wasn’t likely to be missed.

“Shhh,” Alexander said, pressing a finger against the ragged cloth gag that sat in the man’s mouth. “You’re going to be part of something bigger, isn’t it exciting?”

The bound man shook his head side to side, tears streaming down his face. Alexander gave him a pity pat on the head, before returning to his work. His mind was focused by the scriptures, committing the ritualistic chants to mind. There was one last aspect he had to check in on, which sat in the room over from him.

Laid on her death was his love, her breath coarse and rasping. She watched him enter, a smile upon her weak lips.

“Are my parents coming?” the woman asked, before letting out a hoarse cough. “I’m not sure I have long left.”

“They will be along soon, I’m sure of it.”

Alexander’s smile hid his lies, while his hands sat loosely on each arm. They would never agree to his plans, no one would. Secrecy was important.

“Can I get you anything, in the meantime?”

His love shook her head, so he settled down next to her. As time passed, he could feel her slipping, until her breath stilled for the final time. He took per pulse and on finding it absent, turned his attention to his captor.

The muffled screaming followed Alexander as he dragged the man into the room, dumping him on the floor. Alexander cracked a gleeful smile, thanking him for his sacrifice, before binding him to the floor. One hand on him, and one hand on his love, he began his work. Life fell from his victim, funnelling into the corpse bedside him. As the wanderer’s body went limp, his love’s body gasped for breath before falling into slumber.

Ah, to see his life’s work completed.

They were sitting together for the last time. One hooked up to many machines and the other was free. “You can’t die. I just realized my true identity. I finally came out to my family. I finally accepted who I am. You can’t die,” she took her girlfriend’s hand. She didn’t want to cry but she knew this was the end of her true love’s life. “Hope, you can’t help me. I have cancer and I’m not going to be living much longer. Heck, the doctors don’t even think I’ll live to see another day,” said the woman on her death bed. Hope looked sadly at her partner, knowing this was the last day she would ever see her again. “Look at me Hope. You can’t shut down after I die. You can’t become this dark looming shadow I first met. You have come so far. Never change for anyone. Don’t let me hold you back. Grieve for me then go out and have some fun, find someone new. Try new things. You’re finally becoming the person I know you can be. Promise me you’ll keep going,” said Joana with tears in her eyes. Hope’s eyes met hers and said,” I promise.” Then a loud beep and Joana was no more. Hope let out a loud cry and threw herself onto her dead partner’s body. She kept on repeating the words, “ I promise,” until the doctors had to usher her out of the room.

Laying on two beds just four feet apart, a curtain in between.

On the right, an elderly man: His hair is mostly gone, receded past his ears, grey and white wherever it may remain. His skin is like and old rag, worn from time, browned from the sun, speckled and scarred from a life of adventure. His back is bent and his knees are weak. He has traveled far and worked hard everyday of his life, a life worth commending. His eyes are half closed, the lids sagging over until he has to lift his eyebrows just to look up. But his eyes are full of life, a life of love.

On the other side there is a good woman and a loving husband, they hold hands and cry a bit in joy, with smiles stuck to their faces. They can’t believe it, but yet it lays there in her arms: Just a small boy, his hair sparse and dark. It’s a mess, plastered down in places with gross fluid from the woman’s womb, the cleaning didn’t quite cut it. His skin, pale, but healthy and clean. (Mostly, he was just born after all) His back and knees, not yet as strong as they will be. Just a ball of clay ready to be modeled. And his eyes, they have yet to open.

The parents watch earnestly, waiting to see their babies first glance, hoping he will look at them. They get distracted by a heart monitor just four feet away. The heart monitor on the elderly man begins to beep further and further apart, and as it beeps it’s last time he closes his eyes for the very last time. As the pauses grow and the beeps silence all together, they look back to their child. He looks back with eyes wide open, eager to see this new place.

Her bed was almost as stiff as her. She sat there staring at the hospital ceiling while her white hair fell into her lap like snow. She blinked but never said anything. She licked her lips but never smiled. She showed teeth but didn’t bite. She was quiet but her mind was a land full of amazing words that she couldn’t let escape her mouth. She thought of her childhood how she and my grandpa use to walk to school together every morning separate then reunite that afternoon only to fight over who would get to shower first when they got home. She thought of her friends old and new The girls who would trample over her only because they never ate at home. She thought of the boys who kicked her while calling her ugly because they had to hide their sadness. She thought of how she handled these things she remembered sitting in silence. Just like me. I stared at her in her stiff silent bed I knew it was almost the end for her. I had nothing else to say so I walked away as her chapped lips trembled. I heard her say”I sure miss y'alls grandad”.

The relationship I held with my mother was practically nonexistent. The only thing that women had ever done for me was give birth, and that is no longer an exergation. My mother was on her deathbed, dying from some form of cancer. Doctors said there was absolutely nothing they could do and they were just going to have to wait for her time to end, nothing could take her out except for the act of waiting. My dad had forced me to sit in there with them, it was just the three of us. My dad and I were a lot closer, even though he was quite like my mother. Her actions had led to the closeness of my father and I. They were strict, but she was borderline abusive. She had banned me from going to see my grandmother, then when she died I was not allowed to go to the funeral. I don’t know where she was buried. She held a lot of useless rules. Her favorite was the food rule. She would lock all of the cabinets and food storage areas all day. She would unlock them for fifteen minutes around four everyday, and even then she would stand watch to see what I would take, according to my takens would go back to our dinner. Was I more hungry and grabbed more snacks? Dinner would be a couple pieces of fruit. Dad didn’t agree with her rules, he thought they were a bit too strict, but he would never say anything to her. Even when I was younger, my mother was sick. So between my dad and I, we agreed to let her rule, to make her feel better. The older we got, the sicker she was, the more control she had over us. Back to her deathbed. She laid there for days. On her final, before we had known, dad went downstairs to make a work call. I stayed in the room just playing with my phone, but I heard her call for me. I stood up and looked over her lifeless body. “My rules will continue to be followed in my house, so you understand?” I remember that statement so vividly. Because I never answered her back, I just stared into her eyes. Seconds later she was collapsing, she couldn’t breathe and the machine was going out of control. The doctors ran in, surrounding both me and her as they tried to do anything to save her. I believe that her last memory was me, standing victorious as she took her last breaths.

People always say that Life is the most beautiful thing and death is the ugliest.

But couldn’t it be the other way around?

As one person lies on their death bed, waiting for the moment the heart-monitor stops beeping, the other starts their life, opening their eyes for the first time.

If I were to tell you, one person grew up to be the purest, most beautiful girl out there, and the other was a lowly man, would you know who was which?

What if I were to say they never met, because the girl came to earth the moment the room went silent. One was surrounded by people, the other surrounded by equipment.

Which one would you assume that lived out life to the fullest?

Who do you think fed the children at the sidewalk? The one who mowed their neighbours lawn? The one who always left a generous tip even if he hadn’t had much money?

Now, who do you think led guys on? Failed all their classes? Started taking drugs?

Who do you think led a full life, and who was left hanging by their ceiling fan?

Sometimes, Life can be just as ugly as death, and death just as beautiful as life.