Writing Samples

Death’s Stare

When we meet you will not look at me. Even those of you who welcome me with weary arms, those who think they have invited me, will ignore me when I arrive. Some of you resist the urge to look at me for hours, days even. But I am patient. I will not fight you. I will not take offence. I will wait.

When you are ready you will meet my gaze and we will stare at each other. You will accept me. I will cradle your soul in my hands and carry you off in to the gentle night.

 

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