The Note from The Loner

Prompt #58: The Loner

Writing Prompt: Write about a Loner and pay attention to the character’s feelings about being misunderstood.

Someone once asked me ‘Why do you do the job you have?’ to which I promptly replied ‘It is beautiful, regardless to whether you like it or not.’ and I still find this to be very much true. It had been one of the first instances where someone had indeed spoken to me. Many simply sulk in silence, barely muttering a single word. I hear them, though. I know what they think of me. People say it is the worst job in the world, but I rather like it. It has great purpose. I feel a sense of belonging in the vastness of time. I am needed, and everyday I witness the beauty of life. There is, of course, pressure and chronic responsibility. Yet, it is the fear in people’s eyes that is most harrowing to my soul.

But, someone has to do it. There has to be someone to watch their eyes. To witness as they well into tears, as the old become vacant, as those washed with hopes and dreams slip away. I stand waiting for the last few seconds to tick by. It is in those last moments the fear is most prominent. Oh, the state some are in by the time I come. I see them, dripped in sweat and grasping at the bed sheets, fighting to ignore my presence. I see them, reminiscing their favourite moments in life, resenting the fact that I am here. I see them, straining, pleading not to be taken. I see that they are fearful of me. But, in the end, someone has to do it.

I am no Tooth Fairy, nor Santa Claus. No, I would never be cast for pleasant job like that, for I am darkness, only a shadow to the world. I am the moon behind thick cloud. I am the whistle of a winter’s storm. In the entirety of the world, no one wishes to see me. Nobody is ever pleased to see me. They blame me. They shout. They sob. They beg to be given just a few more minutes. But that is not my job. I don’t get to decide who goes and who stays. I just have to be there to ferry those across the divide. I walk them to their next journey, wherever that may be. I am the ferryman and I take them so they can go on.

So when I come to guide you, I implore you not to glare, not to stare with snarled expressions, not to sob and wail, nor mutter your discontent under your breath. For when I come for you, and I promise our paths will cross one day, please don’t think ill of me, for I am no monster denying you time. Do not fear me, for I am a friend. I simply walk with you so you are not alone. Yet, in those few moments together, I have only ever found that people would prefer that I were not there. Whilst you may move on, I am stuck, eternally traversing between two worlds with disgruntled clients who wish that I were dead.

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