December 10, 2010

Storytime with P. Meggy "044"

Author's Note: I just can't do anything on time, can I? (I have a legitimate excuse, but I'm sure you don't want to hear it.) Anyway, I should explain the name, and a bit of the story. It's called "044" because I have retold Grimm 044 (Google it.) I've always wanted to recreate a myth or legend as my own, and though this is more of a retelling than a recreation, I'm pretty proud of it myself. And yes, Sir Death came somewhat from the name of a book I want to read. (Keturah and Lord Death)



One cannot persuade or cheat Death.
Even if you happen to be his godson.
My father was getting old when I was born, and he knew Sir Death would come soon to claim him. 
But I had no godfather.
So, when Death came and stood at the foot of my father’s bed, my father asked him to be my godfather, because he makes everyone equal, and does not discriminate between rich and poor.
Sir Death appeared that day shriveled, deformed, with burns on his face and hands. When he turned to me, I being barely three years old, I was terrified of him. He beckoned me to him, and said “I will make you rich in famous, for he who has me as a friend cannot fail.”
I remembered his promise; I never forget Death’s promises.
Death took my father away from me, the same night he promised to make me famous.
When I came to age, which was not so long ago, Sir Death returned, this time appearing in the form I continued to know him as. He was just around my age, but he was still as frightening as ever. He wore only black clothes, and a long black cloak and a hood over his face. His hands and arms appeared strong, and his face, what I could see, was stern. Three scars ran parallel across his face, red and barely healed. When he smiled, though it was seldom, it was cold and cruel. It distorted his features, and reminded me of when great beauty is lost. He showed me an herb that grew there, and told me it could heal anyone of any sickness.
“You must look to me, and if I stand at their head, you may heal them with the herb. But if I stand at their feet, then they are doomed to die, and I will take them with me. Do not try to use this herb against my will, because then you will have stolen my property. Listen to me, boy, I will take you away from this place.”
I remembered his promise; I never forget Death’s promises.
Death gave me the power to overcome him, the same time he promised if I disobey him, he would take me away.
Soon, I was the most famous physician in the world. Just by looking at a person, I could tell if they would be able to live, or if they were beyond saving. Little did anyone know, I saw which end of the bed my godfather stood at. Soon, too soon, and far, far too fast, I became rich, because so many people asked me to heal their sick. It pained me to tell the families when Sir Death stood at their loved one’s feet, but Death merely smiled at me, as if it were a sunny day meant for joy, rather than mourning.
Once, however, I was called to the King’s bedside, because he had become extremely sick. I silently prayed that Death was standing at his head, because the people loved the King, and I with them. When I arrived, I was welcomed by the King’s daughter, the most beautiful girl in the world. I don’t know if I knew it then, but I loved her. I returned her unusually happy smile; she was glad I had arrived, she told me, her father was nearly on his deathbed. But when I looked to the King, I found that Sir Death stood at his feet.
I leaned over the King, and examined his face. It was the first time I had ever seen him up close, and he was much more thin and pale and sickly than I had ever seen. He looked at me with red, watering eyes, and then struggled to turn his head, and his daughter held the bucket as he vomited.
I glanced at my godfather, and I thought, with sudden resentment and hatred, “If only I could get the best of him once...”
With the help of the King’s daughter, I turned the King around, where his head was where his feet once were. Avoiding any eye contact with Sir Death, I used the herb to heal the King. Death reached for him, but he could not take him away.
As I left the room, Death followed me, and grabbed me very violently. “You have disobeyed me. I will overlook it because you are my godson, but only this once. Know that I have shown you a great kindness, and if you dare steal from me again, you will not live to deceive me again.”
I remember his promise; I never forget Death’s promises.
I bested Death, the same day he let me live for doing so.
Not many months later, the King’s daughter became dangerously ill. The King was so grieved, because she was his only child, that he wept until his eyes began to go blind. He made a proclamation that anyone who could save his daughter would marry her and inherit the kingdom. He summoned me, because I had saved him when he was so sick, and begged me to save her, for if not, he should die.
When I came to the Princess’ bedside, Death stood at her feet.
He smiled cruelly at me.
I remembered his promise as he took me away.

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