The End of Death

Since God died, Earth has been barren. Desperate for fuel and hydration. It needed something I could not provide, yet only I can persevere during its ongoing demise. 

Based on legend, many may have assumed that this is the world I would have preferred. But that’s not true. Life gives me purpose. And yes, in a sense, I take that away. But without me, Death, how can the cyclical nature of existence prosper? But without God’s divine creation, that rotation has been halted for decades. When She left, reproduction became unattainable. Conception is inconceivable. Some stubborn trees and mushrooms can still be found lining the rough grassless terrain. But humans are long gone. There are no reptiles, no flowers, no bugs, no birds, no fruits or vegetables. And aside from wind hitting dead branches and boulders, the atmosphere is silent. 

Celestial beings don’t have bodies, persay. At least not in the mortal sense. Our actuality is more complex. Time takes physicality over matter. We can feel, touch, and be seen at our own discretion, but up until recently, my understanding was that we were limitless and immortal. 

On that day, I found her lying lifelessly against my chest. I often sleep on days of celebration, giving the world a break from the grief I provide. I never imagined having the ability to kill anything other than a living being, and yet there She was. My generally calm demeanor was filled with panic and rage, emotions that felt completely unfamiliar to me. I tried to shake her awake, but She wouldn’t move or breath. I saw creatures die every day, and their souls would always surround me before returning to the cosmos that created them. But gods didn’t have souls. So where was She? I didn’t have a semblance of an explanation, only what She had left behind. 

As soon as She left, extinction raged. Species depleted. People prayed to the god they swore they had felt not even a few hours ago, but with no answer. I had no choice but to continue with my cosmic duty of releasing souls from their physical forms. And slowly, one by one, life itself simply stopped existing. It broke me.

I remember the final human a few years ago. They were surprisingly peaceful. For years, they had been attempting to tend the land in their old age. I came down to meet them face to face when it was their time. 

“I always thought your head would be some kind of animal skull. Or maybe you would have horns? You just look…like a person”

I chuckled. “No. I always loved all the creative interpretations, though. Technically, I can look however I want. But I find the human form most interesting.”

The human gave a breathy laugh as they lay in what appeared to be a handcrafted bed. We sat together, hand in hand, in an almost abandoned house in a North American suburb. Cans of food lined the walls.

“I’m sorry I have to do this,” I said. “I never wanted it to be like this.”

“Don’t be sorry, dear. Thank you for coming to see me. I haven’t seen anyone in a long time,” the human said.

I tightened my grip around their soft, veiny hand. 

“Do you have any questions that need answering before I go?”

“What good would answers do now, huh?”

“Even though you're the last person?” I asked, puzzled. “We have failed your kind.”

She sighed peacefully and closed her eyes, saying, “You never failed anyone, dear. And besides, I don’t need anything else. I’m already complete.”

And then, they were gone. I walked outside the house and vowed never to return home until I, too, was complete. 

I traveled, unsure of what I was seeking. I’ve never spent this much time on land. Walking across endless wasteland quickly became appalling. Sometimes I felt an occasional drop of rain on my face. It was probably placebo. Regardless, it brought me comfort. 

Even without needing sleep to survive, I quickly became exhausted. Each bristlecone pine or quaking aspen. Occasionally, I found a forest. Leaves were sparse, but would still rustle and sing against the harsh wind. Before staying on earth, I was disconnected from my senses. But after a while, I noticed every smell. Every sound. Soil. Ash. Ocean salt. And death. I saw myself everywhere. I could taste the dissolution of flesh and organism. It ate me alive. Not that I was alive. Or anything for that matter. I had heard of humans claiming that they saw God in everything. But She truly was gone. 

We were lovers, God and I. More like partners. But I did love her more than everything I knew. We worked as a pair beautifully. She created, I annihilated. But it was more than that. We gave each other a reason to continue. Our roles were assigned, not chosen, and it was far from easy most of the time. I mourned the loss of each generation. And yet, She always stayed bright and positive. God was hope. So with no hope, how could I reasonably take even more than what was already stolen? But why did it happen? Why did She leave? She never appeared overwhelmed or depressed. Never too engrossed in the work or unreasonably distant. She was healthy and lively to the naked eye. How could the universe possibly make that disgusting sacrifice? 

I am angry. Angry at myself for being put in this devastating position. Continuing to kill with nothing in return. I am angry at God. Angry at her for leaving. But I won’t stop. Even when the last bacterium succumbs, I will still be here. 

It has been roughly 50 years since the final human. I found myself on the coasts of Greenland. According to the signage, the town was once called Ilulissat. Mild clouds flew overhead, and the air sat at a comfortable 11 degrees Celsius. And with it being the middle of the northern hemisphere summer, temperatures must have been close to the yearly high. 

As I walked across the arctic shore, I listened to the waves crashing against the rocky ground. I approached a lone, desolate factory. It was small, but once bustling. Boats rocked with the billows, each at various levels of decay and rot. Inside the building lay tables, blades, and containers. Must have been a facility that once processed seafood. Even after all these years, cans of fish, crab, and shrimp were scattered across the floor. 

A dock door sat open on the west wall, leading towards a sea bridge. At the end, a few hundred feet out to sea, was a dark wooden dock. I walked out towards the breezy ocean, and the boards below my feet creaked with each tiny movement. A sudden shift and they would likely break beneath me, but I moved slow. Taking in the salty gusts and petricor. At the dock, I sat against the edge, my toes not quite meeting the sea but swinging along to watery swish against the wooden beams. I stayed there for hours. Breathing. I never knew how intentional breath could be. It truly connects you. And as devastating the world has become, the ocean reminds me that the planet itself continues to breath on. 

I had lost count of time when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. The water below me was dark and nearly opaque. But as I turned towards the shift, there was a clear swell underneath. Without the sun shining, seeing through the surface was impossible. With each new stir, my curiosity spiked. Any movement was rare at this point in history. I removed my shawl and robes and dipped into the near-freezing water. I sank down just enough to be fully submerged. And there she was. Clear as day. A Greenland Shark. She turned her body parallel to mine, and our eyes locked. We stayed there for a moment. Frozen and floating. She started to swim, encircling me and grazing her skin against mine. While I’m not really alive, I’m likely the most living thing she has seen in decades. 

Where have you been? I imagined her asking me.

“I came to find you,” I said out loud. 

The shark swam down near the ocean floor, and I followed. She guided me to what appeared to be a stash of cans from the processing plant above. Greenland sharks didn’t need much food to survive, so she must have figured out to eat a bit of canned fish every few days. Just enough to keep her around for close to two hundred years. 

I grazed my hand through the rusting metal pile. All the cans were empty. I swam underneath the dock, scouring for food. Nothing. She was completely out. There were no fish. No bugs. She was starving. It was only a matter of time before she would return to me. My first thought was to return to land and find any remaining cans to bring to her. But when I turned back to see her, she had closely ensued, peering into my self. She was completely still. I think she knew her time was close, which she had long since accepted. The shark embraced me with her rough hide and sank into my arms. And in that moment, something changed. What would I do if there was nothing left? Do I continue to walk across continents, hoping for that all-encompassing answer? Do I even have to stay?

I am not a murderer, more of a guide. I don’t take away one's being with a touch of my fingertips. I also don’t suck out a creature’s soul. When someone’s time has come, I allow the natural process to continue and help the lost return to the universe they came from. But I didn’t actually know what that meant. Even an immortal being can’t fully understand. Could I, Death herself, die? 

As quickly as the thought entered my mind, peace washed over me. I still held the shark, but allowed myself to sink with her. I closed my eyes, giving myself permission to completely let go, and I quickly felt myself begin to fade. It was euphoric. I waited and walked for so long. And yet the answer was short and easy. It was as if my form was waiting for me to simply make the connection. I had finally consented to the will of something that existed above me. It was freedom. 

As it turns out, God is not the universe. The universe is everything it holds. As it ebbs and flows, cracks in the foundation allow for mutation. Growth can be found in any habitat. I may be Death, but I am only a single piece of ultimate variation that is existence. And even I have an end. And what a beautiful feeling ending is. 

—

I woke to a sound of something rustling. I was surrounded by objects that retained various shapes and colors. Blue, pink, brown, and yellow encircled me. I pushed myself to a seated position and felt something soft underneath me. That feels so… familiar, I thought, but couldn’t place a name to velvety green spears that lined the vast environment. 

A glowing woman sat directly in front of me. It looked like she was taking in the environment just as I was. Just like the items around me, She felt so recognizable. Comforting. 

“Do I know you?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” She responded. 

I stood up, offering her my hand when I rose. She joined me, but didn’t let go. I gazed at her. Her skin sparkled, and her hair flowed so tenderly that the ends morphed into the colors around her. 

“I don’t know much,” I said. “But I think my name is Death.”

“I’m God.” She beamed. “I guess we have to figure everything out together.”

We smiled together, still holding hands, and began to walk. She made me feel alive.