Life is a series of competitions. Every day brings another challenge to challenge, another contest to contest, another struggle to struggle through. And yet, in the end, everyone loses the final staring contest with death. We always blink first.

I lost my father a few months ago. His final game was a long campaign of extended warfare against that persistnent and ubiquitous minion of death called cancer. In the end, though, even his great war came down to a staring contest with the opposing commander. He blinked first.

Marcus played a game once. It was a game of survival and he was frustratingly good at it, so death lashed out at those who were near him. Now, though he’d never admit it, Marcus spends his days waiting for the black stranger to show up for one final game. It will be a staring contest. He will blink first.

Dying is a long, drawn-out process but death happens in the blink of an eye. In the end, it all comes down to a final staring contest with death. But that begs the question…

…what happens to a man who is as faceless as death itself?


2 comments on “Loss

  1. Kiera says:

    I wish you were awake, Marcus. I truly do. I haven’t been here in awhile. Been avoiding the Internet and the blogs like a plague. Too much death. Too much idiocy.

    But tonight may be my last night on Earth, so here I am, perhaps for the final time.

    You’re an amazing man, Marcus. I hope I’m alive when you wake up. I’m not sure, though.

    Look at me. I’m letting the fucking mask fall. Whatever. I don’t give a fuck.

    Take care of yourself, my lion man. Don’t let the Tree Walker break you. Do what no one else could.

    And I’ll meet you on the other side.

  2. Goddammit. Why couldn’t he be here for this?

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