scene 16: Angel of Death

I adore writing prompts. They kind of help silence all the distractions and free of my head space for real writing. And there's no pressure. No need to write a novel or some great discourse, just write anything. So liberating.

I was recently given the following writing prompt:
When I finally realized that death was imminent, one thing because perfectly clear.

Here is what I came up with:

When I finally realized that death was imminent, one thing became perfectly clear. I was happy.

I’d long ago given up the illusions that I could know what was on the other side of death, that the unknowing was something to fear. There was a certain liberated peace that came with letting that particular quest for knowledge go. 

It was a relief to be at the end of things. No more days of torture. No more nights of agony waiting for non-existent solace. Death is freedom. Why would I be anything less than joyful?

I looked him in the face, as he came for me. He was different than I had supposed. This was no creature of the night, draped in black and steeped in shadows. This was a man of light. His very countenance glowed. His eyes were the green-gray of highlighted leaves. He smelled of sunshine, sand and saltwater spray. He was deliverance. Perhaps, as it happens with so many of us, his appearance is merely a reflection of our feelings for him? 

He was my emancipator; he was beautiful. I embraced him, nuzzled my nose in his neck as he cradled me in his arms. He held me tight and then, he took me home.