The man was dying.
He had lived a long and prosperous life.
His family surrounded his bed and filled the large bedroom. The house was full of kin folks and lifetime friends.
His life had been full of joy, the laughter of many children and a beautiful companionship of 55 years with his lovely wife.
It had been a happy life. He had been blessed.
But there was an evil side to the dying man that his family were not aware of.
There was no hint of the darkness that crept around in his soul like a wet shadow.
A darkness that clung to him like dried blood. He had hidden it from them and the world.
One last act of evil would make his “true” life complete.
He felt no remorse for his decision that would leave them all at a loss for what he was about to unleash on them…
He prayed that all the stories he had heard…of souls drifting around in the room after they died were true.
He wanted to see the horror and fear that he had wrought.
It was something that drove his type of pathological nature.
To see the ruin in his victims eyes…
The terrible impact on a person’s life, or continuation of pain they would suffer was the nectar of his life.
He loved…needed…to see the calamity he had created.
“How lost they would feel” he thought to himself…the veil closing around him, warm and snug.
It was almost time to go.
Just a little longer… a little longer.
“Don’t cheat me of this” he asked Death, “Not now”.
Death stepped back.
“Dad?” his oldest son asked, trying to make himself heard through his beloved father’s fog.
“Dad?” he said louder. The son grasped his father by his wizened old hand.
The pleasure in the dying mans eyes was plain to see by everyone.
“He see’s Jesus” his wife said tenderly, clutching at his other hand…trying to keep her dear, dear husband in her world…here with her.
The oldest daughter stepped forward, leaning over her brother’s shoulder. The dying man could see her through the mist of his eyes, the tears in hers…the pain.
Oh, the sweet nectar of pain.
“Dad?” she said quietly, her brother looking over his shoulder at her. Her brother gave her hand a quick squeeze and a nod of encouragement.
“Dad?” she repeated a little louder.
The dying man waited for the moment, “His” moment at last.
All those years of struggle and frugality…to give all these soul-sucking beggars what they wanted, his payback was fixing to pay off….
“Dad, what did you do with the remote and garage door opener?”
The old man smiled…
He waved his hand towards Death to coax him closer…it was time.
He was fulfilled.
Death stopped his approach, turning toward a sudden noise at the bedroom door.
Death turned and looked at the old man…and smiled with contempt…
A little boy had ran racing into the crowd of mourners, face flushed and breathless. He held up the 2 missing items.
“I found them in the magazine rack in the bathroom!” he shouted proudly.
The family cheered!
Death looked at the old man and turned away, fading into a paleful mist.
The old man sat up…eyes wide open and wild, throwing back the sheets…punching the empty air…his hands clenched into fists
With his last ounce of strength, his last dying breath… the old man screamed
Then he floated around the room while his family watched “Dancing with The Stars”