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The Passing

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This short story takes a in depth look at a dying man with an ancient disease embedded within him and his last thoughts toward the end of his life between him and his beloved.

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The Passing
I can feel it. The moment of cold chill in the air. A cruel fate. A small ray of hope slowly fading out in the background replacing it with a patch of darkness full of despair. Not only has it grown on me but it is also threatening to swallow me whole with its tainted superficial body. Corrupting the very surface of my skin & slowly but surely taking over my body until it has completely eaten out my very existence. Indeed. There is little time left for me as the seconds tick by. Day by day, it gets worse. Spreading all over its parasitic life form & crippling the jujubes out of me. My angel. My eyes open as it glances at the direction of my angel. Whom is resting her head on my bedside with her arms crisscrossed around it. Sound asleep it seems. I sighed. Her face buried in her arms – she looked so sweet. Even in the blazing sunlight that had come to shine down on that very spot from the window. The spot where she lies. I reached out with my hand & patted her matted hair. My eyes took on a little sorrow but also smiling a small smile in joy. Knowing she"s still by my side after the ancient disease took a toll on me. Took a direct hit right into me. The sadness in my eyes indicates that I may not – despite all the fighting and all the beating I took against this disease of mine – I may not last. This epidemic virus has tired me out & is about to drain me of everything. I would not have lasted this long if it wasn"t for my dear angel. Who has cheered me through my hard times. If it weren"t for her, I"d have been long gone. Very much would"ve given up all hope of coming through this far. Yes indeed. My arms, legs, my torso – almost everything has been covered with rashes. Even on the face themselves. Many of what has already been filled up with fluid then dried up. Becoming just another one of my dead skin which falls off eventually. These clear symptoms indicates the ancient disease known as smallpox. My time has come. I can already feel that much about it. I reached down with my hand to stroke her hair. My sweet angel. I pulled her hair aside just to see her face one last time. Once more. Then as I gaze into her face, she really does look angelic. In the sunlight especially. All my memories of her – all the times we"ve shared – came back to me the more I looked at her. The happy times & the times we"ve fought. The times we"ve made up reaching a conclusion that satisfies the both of us. The times where we"ve protected one another. All those things have been mashed into this head of mine. So has hers. I am glad I got to see my angel"s face one last time before I"ve come to face my own reality that"s waiting for me at the very end. The reality that tells me I won"t make it long enough to talk to her one last time. Forgive me love. But this is it for me. My hand starts to slacken on her head & my eyes starts shutting down on itself. Before I knew it, I have become limp – drifting to the heavens to watch my beloved from above sleeping peacefully & sound as can be.

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