The Rustle of Dry Leaves

It was both surreal and terrifyingly real, simultaneously.

The hands I held up in front of my face weren't my own. They were calloused and spotted with age, tanned like old leather. The legs moving me along felt fatigued and my gait slow, with a lean to the right and shorter steps on that side to compensate. My bare feet shuffled through a carpet of dry red leaves, although the surrounding trees proudly displayed a rich green canopy of new spring growth and not the moulting branches of Autumn.

The forest spread as far as I could see, and there was not another soul in sight. I strained my ears for a noise, any noise, the reassuring whistle of birdsong, or maybe another hiker, but there was nothing. Only the dry rustle of leaves underfoot. I shuffled along, slowly, leaning to the right, in silence.

Suddenly I felt a pressure on my hand; my old, calloused hand. Somebody had taken my hand in theirs, somebody small, with a tender touch.

"I love you Grandpa." The voice fell upon ears that weren't my own. The voice belonged to a child, and it was muffled, as though coming at me from a distance. Or through a pillow. Or maybe I was hearing the voice through old, deaf ears.

I kept walking as other voices, other hands, made their presence known. At times the body slowed and leaned into a hug given by an unseen presence. There was muffled speaking, some sobbing, as I continued my stroll through the impossible forest.

Why an impossible forest? Because the trees were now turning into statues, reaching out branches that ended in hands, waving me on towards a clearing that had appeared in the distance. The clearing was bathed in golden light, and as I approached I felt my breathing slow. The voices became fainter, the touch of unseen hands no longer registering on my skin.

"You can do this," I whispered, not to myself, but to the person who's dream I was inhabiting. I lent them my strength, my will to move on. "She's waiting for you."

A luminous woman stood in the centre of the clearing, bathed in light, wearing a loving, welcoming smile. She reached out her hand as the ageing body I rode reached the clearing. Her hand touched mine, and knowledge flooded my senses. I remembered her smell, her eyes, her touch. I remembered their decades of love, all their good times, and all the hard times. My breath caught in my throat as I relived their hardest time; her death, five months prior.

His wife had come to take him from here. I handed over control and stepped back, watching reverently as the ancient body I had escorted up to this point took it's last few steps into the light. The look of gratitude on both their faces made this hard life worthwhile; the life of the Reaper.

I woke as the light faded and felt the tears on my cheeks. I let myself feel my feelings for a few moments, then took a deep breath and jumped out of bed, ready to face my day.