Conversations With A Dead Man

A girl dying of Crohn's Disease finds hope and love in a wandering dead man.

             One summer long ago, when I was a younger woman and dying from Crohn's Disease, I had a few conversations with a dead man.  His name was Aron, and he claimed to be a famous viking from the olden days.  He also claimed to have been to outerspace, the far East, Paris, the North Pole, and was even the ruler of a small village out in the middle of nowhere for several years.  He also promised that he loved me.

             Of course, I didn't believe him for a moment.  Who would believe the man?  He was falling apart at the seams, a tarnished jewel that had been lost at the bottom of a coal mine.  What was even worse was that I couldn't help myself from loving him too.  He was beautiful in a strange way, with a mop of curly blonde hair, sparkling blue and brown eyes, and the lips and skin of an angel.  Maybe that's what he was--an angel.  But...but no, he was nothing but a dead man.  

             I know that now.  I always will.

             I used to visit him in the evenings, just after the sun had set in the big sky.  He would be lounging on his crumbling porch, swinging on that porch swing of his, smiling at me like I was pure gold.  I would return that smile with a crooked one, my pale eyes crinkling at the corners with the effort.  Then I would sit next to him, his hand sometimes straying to mine, sometimes not, our eyes catching each others at the right moments, and he would tell wild stories only he could spin.  He was my entertainment.  He...was my life.

             I had nothing else and he knew it and never showed it.  Except there would only be these moments where he eyes would fill unexpected emotion and he would mumble things about me needing "outside contact".  He would say things like: "I won't always be here, you know."  And I would just laugh and reply snidely, "sure, you're always saying that."  And he would sniff and turn his pretty face away from me and whisper, as if to the wind, "but it's true..."  Then he look at me with those forlorn, quiet eyes, and assure me.  "You'll see, one day."  And those words and that look would chill me to the bone and slice right through my aching heart.  And then suddenly there would be tears in my eyes and I'd be asking him a billion questions at once.  The only one that really mattered was "when?"  

             He would just shake his head, his unruly ringlets bouncing, and shrug.  "I don't know, it's different every time.  It could be tomorrow, later today, a year from now, a month, fifty--I never know."  He was confused and seemed almost as scared as me.  I took his hand,  it was cold as ice, and touched the other to his palor cheek.  He tried to look away from me but I wouldn't have it.  I wanted to ask him what he meant by "different every time", but I couldn't force the words out.  There was silence, the breeze blew by warm and familiar, and we just stared at each other with growing sadness.  Then he sighed.  "You need outside contact."  He said again, his eyes closing as he pulled his face from me, my hand hung in the air from the longest moment then fell to the swing with a dead thump.  I wanted to slap him.  "Get some friends, your age, your time,"  He told me.  I hugged myself then shook my head.

              "Why?"  I asked, the other important question.  He wouldn't look at me.  I began to cry.  "I don't need them, they don't understand...They've never felt what I've felt, they've never met you!"  I nearly screamed it at him, shaking in rage, he finally glanced back at me.  He was crying too but his tears weren't right--they were black as soot and he wiped his quickly away.  "You're everything to me, I--I can't live without you.  I need you,"  I fumbled for words and his eyes grew quite large in fear, he stumbled up and began to mumble "no, no, no,".  I stood then and then fell to my knees before him, sobs muddling my words as I reached out to touch him.  He shied away.  "I'd die for you!"  I screamed, no one heard it but him.  He jumped backwards at the words then pointed a shaking finger at me.  There were tears in his mix-matched eyes again.

               "No, not again, not ever!"  He cried, his cheeks marred by his crudely wiped away tears, he stooped to glare into my eyes, his hands gripping and shaking my shoulders.  "No."  He said firmly, he shook me harder and I whimpered in fright, his freezing fingers dug into my skin.  "Take it back, take it back!"  He begged, dirty, muddy tears running down his cheeks.   "Why?"  I choked out once more, my voice cracking, he stopped shaking me and dropped his hands to his lap and began to wring them.  

                "I can't let you die, not yet, it's not your time.  You have to live!"  He stood again and spun to leave, I saw this and scrambled to catch him.

                 "Wait!"  I shouted, finding his sleeve to pull on, he barely paused.  "I... Don't leave me, Aron, I don't want to live if I can't have you."  I was desperate and clung to him.  He shook me off.

                 "That's what they all said."  With that, he left.  

 

I didn't see him for what seemed like years.

                 It was only a month though.  I was sitting under the old apple tree in my father's orchard when I saw him limping through the trees.  He looked deader than ever with dried blood and cracked tears on his face and neck, and mud all over his clothes.  He stopped a few trees away from me.  I was shocked first then composed myself.  "Hello, Aron,"  I whispered bitterly, my eyes spilling the tears I had tried to hide in vain.  I sniffed.  "So, you came back?"  He didn't answer me but fell down with a heavy sigh in front of tree across from me.  He appeared remorseful and reached out a hand to him.  He eyes shut in fake disgust and he pushed himself away from me farther.  He was shivering, the skin around his lips and eyes blue, some blood trickled down past his ear.  He scratched at it.  

                 "Yes, but only to explain things to you,"  I could barely recognize his voice--it rang gravely through the trees, the sun seemed to hide behind the clouds when he began to speak.  He never looked at me.  I wished he would.  "I died a long time ago, in a place far from here.  I died dishonorably--I ran when my love, Annelie, was being killed.  She died by the hand of my brother, I could have stopped him, but that would have meant my capture, and I couldn't stand that prospect.  So I fled, leaving her to die.  I saw her before she died, she called my name,"  He broke off into a sob, his hands caressing the grass like it was her.  "'Anton, Anton,'  She cried while they dragged her away and I ran.  It was all my fault.  They found me later in my bed in a local tavern, they carried me into the woods, beat me to death, then disposed off my body in the lake near-by."  He sounded like he was being strangled and more blood was dripping down his face, it wiped at like it was sweat.  I made for him but he gave me a look that made me stay.  I was beginning to feel sick.

                 "But I didn't stay dead--I never do.  An angel came to me and told me of my punishment.  Not only had Annelie died but so had my village, I could have saved them maybe, maybe not.  The angel wasn't forgiving--they rarely are in these situations, and told me that I would watch her death forever more in anyone I loved until I learned what it's meant to be brave.  I needed to learn my lesson--I had wronged.  I needed to save them, I thought, but I tried but they still died, everyone of them."  Then, he finally looked at me, there was almost a smile on his lips.  "But not you, not yet.  I can save you still.  I know how, too, I'm going to offer myself, let them kill me again.  Let them take me, I can't stand this any longer."  He climbed to his feet and stood over me.  "I will save you when the time comes."  He kneeled before me and took my hands.  I laughed through my tears.

                  "Does this mean you love me?"  He nodded.  

                  "Yes,"  I wiped some of the blood and black tears from his face then laughed again.

                  "Good,"  And he kissed me and I felt a warmth fill us, a sort of life, and I saw him glow with golden life, and through his kiss the light passed to me, and I gasped, falling back.  He was more alive than I had ever seen him, his skin glowed and he grinned.  I looked at myself, I did too.  I was alive again.  And so was he, but only for a moment.  

                  Then he began to wither like a piece of paper being burnt, and went to him.  He was laughing and smiling.  His voice was a thin and fragile as his appearance as he murmured.  "I did it, I can die now, in peace."  I fought back to words I wanted to say, he couldn't stay, and there was nothing I could do about it.  He met my eyes meaningfully and took my hand, his skin flaking all the while.  "How's your...terminal illness?"  I shook my head, tears pooling in the corners of my eyes, I felt amazing and terrible all at once.

                  "Don't feel a thing, you think it's gone?"  I asked him while running my fingers through my hair.  He nodded weakly.  

                   "I think so.  I understand it all now...I just needed to find the courage to save you.  I needed to find the strength to give you my life.  And I found it."  He coughed and a little more of him drifted away.

                   "Does it hurt?"  I asked foolishly, he shook his head and tried to speak.  He couldn't, not anymore.  I sniffed back my tears then leaned down and whispered it:  "I love you, Anton.  You're the bravest man I know,"  I couldn't stop crying and brushed away the hair from his face.  His eyes were the only things left that were alive.  "And I still don't know how I can live without you."  I kissed his lips, wishing with everything that I had that he would glow again.  He didn't, I guess it only goes one way.  

                    I sobbed and craddled him in my arms until he faded away like the dust, the soot, the ashes he was made of.  I loved him and he was gone.  Forever.  I would never forget him because he gave me the second chance that science couldn't give me.  He gave me life, I would never forget that.

                    He would always be mine, in my still beating heart.

Author's Note

It's a little shaky, but what do you think?