I'm not going to take your soul. I am tired you see. I am tired of the wailing of motherless children and wifeless husbands. Tired of the tears. I carry within me smells of countless millenniums of heartbreak.
Death is no more.
I will no longer take a life. I stand and go to the wood stove. I can not feel its heat just as I can not feel the cold. I turn and look at the old man in the creaking rocker and am surprised by his countenance. He is angered.