******A DINNER WITH DEATH******

       
    A DINNER WITH DEATH
    Death covered my eyes from behind with his palms; in pleasure I asked which of my friends is at play. Sonorously, his thick voice revealed his identity. There, my breath acceleration tripled and immediately came to a halt , I needed to remind myself to still breathe. “Do you mind following me?” he said. in a persuasive manner. “Not yet time.” my swift response echo.... “This is not your journey to the morgue, just a dinner with me.” He rendered in form of a lullaby.
        One needs not to be told that his aged crypt existed even before the Tower Of Babel. His well furnished apartment is designed   with dried skulls. Drops of blood from hung fresh skulls make the floor looks like Noble Carpet is his rug designer. On a set of skulls, he offered me a seat. But, my expression reveals that in his house, I'll prefer standing till eternity. My curiosity revealed to me that blood is the content on the mug he was holding. “Let’s have a drink.” He offered. But, he needed not to be told that my belle will remain filled till thy kingdom come. Though, the immediate gaunt in my physical expression shows my blood is draining rapidly. “Ask me things you'll like to know about me, I'll be glad to supply you with answers.” He altered giving me a wink. Then the question an answer session begins.
           “Why do you make us get our precious body buried or cremated?” I asked wearing a curious gesture. “Oh that?” He responded with a smile. “Recycling souls for the production of new ones is an inevitable system that keeps life going.” With hast, I asked. “Does that mean new souls can't be created while the already existing ones live?” He stood and moved closer to me. “Don't you think this world has it size and capacity? Manufacturing new souls with the existing ones will only get this world overcrowded.” He continued. “Do you think this planet belongs to human alone? Have you not read about the presence of the aliens? The world of animals is another thing you have to put in consideration. Don't you think the micro organism will become visible and imagine the numbers of them you'll inhale in every single breath?”  Argumentatively, I responded. “If that be the case, an old soul should be a better replacement for the new ones.” He leaned forward holding my shoulders. “I am only a slave to Fate, Chance, Kings, Despirate men, Dot with poison and Sickness according to John Donne's perception about me.” I gave him a look that suggested a partial agreement to what he said and asked.” What's your perception about poets like John Donne, Emily Dickinson, William Blake amongst other poets who had written one or two poems about you?” He zipped from his mug and said. “In my constituent, there is freedom of ideas.” As sweat rolled down from my forehead, I asked. “When will you hijack the chariot that transports my soul?” "I will when the time is right.” He said, in a more satisfactory tone. “What then do I do to prolong that time?” I asked with my voice braking .He freed my shoulders and said.” I am inevitable like I told you earlier, just live life fearlessly and......” “Does that mean I should risk my life by daring Gunmen, bombs, unprotected sex, or even dare swallowing poison?” I broke in his talk. Sonorously, he said.  “My dear,  “touching my chest "I will be glad to kill you if you look for me in every ways or manners.” He continues for any soul that experienced birth, Death has become inevitable for such soul.”  
BY:
ABDULSALM JAMIU .B