Death and Timothy

This story is not yet complete.

Death came early to the boy, at the tender age of three and would visit often then-after. At first, distraught by the ghastly figure, he cowered beneath blankets, clinging to a stuffed kangaroo, working up the courage to scream. Eventually, he fell asleep.

He would awake, comforted by the warmth of daylight through the window and relieved that the putrid odor was gone. The boy reasoned it best not to tell anyone, if he hid well and didn't acknowledge the robed apparition, it might vanish. After all, many things were imaginary.
Months passed, almost an entire year. Death visited every few nights. The boy would cower, surrounded by his favorite toys, clutching Garoo. Death would wait at the foot of the bed, watching the boy through the covers, considering.

One night, Death finally spoke, sounding as an echo “Hello, Timothy.”

That was the night Timothy found the courage to scream. His father was fast through the door, lights on, his son in his arms. “What's wrong?”

“There was a man in my room, dressed in black and he stinked,” the dad looked at the window, it was locked-tight.

“I don't see a man, Timothy, and I don't smell anything. Maybe you were dreaming,”

The boy was pale, goose-pimpled and earnest pleading, “he was here!”

Death was silent, hidden to Timothy by the light and to Dad by the sheer amount of time he had left in his life.

“Let me check your room, make sure he's gone. Then you can get to sleep.”

“NO! I want to sleep with you and mum.”

“You sure, your mom snores,” the dad mimicked a snore, with a long whistling exhale.

“So? I want sleep in your room. Then the man won't know where I am.”

“Oh, alright,” the father conceded, without any real fight. “Tomorrow, we get you a night light and you sleep in your own bed.” With that he picked up the boy, grabbed Garoo with his free hand and carried them to his room.

Death followed, a pace behind. The father shut the bedroom door on Death, who passed through it, unperturbed. Timothy slept peacefully, Death hidden by his parent's warmth or love.