lights, resembling the fluorescent spine of a twirling dancer on stage, vanished in the distance of the day, the cell door opened and there in front of them was a large elevator. On the door there was a sign: Lift to the Gallows. On the other side of the door there was a black tall creature with a ghostly face and a sharpened scythe in his bony hand looking at Van Der Graaf.
“Get in! Get in Van Der Graaf, willingly!” its horrible mouth softly creaked. “Do you know who I am?” it asked, and Van Der Graaf answered staring at the floor, “I know. You are Death.”
“Yes! I am Death, and this is the lift to the gallows.” Death circled the space around itself.
“I know,” said Van Der Graaf, still keeping his eyes on the floor. “I have seen the movie „Elevator to the Gallows,“ the one with Jeanne Moreau. I saw it a while ago when I was young, and I did not know back then that the films were the truth and life itself was nothing, just a false celluloid illusion.”
“Yes,” echoed Death. “You have seen the film. I have seen it, too.”
“And did you see Ingmar Bergman’s The Seventh Seal?” asked Van Der Graaf.
“I have seen that one, too.”
“I see, you are fond of movies!” he raised his head suddenly and looked Death in the eyes, those empty sockets in its skull. “If I remember well, there’s a knight playing chess with you, in that movie. He is playing for his own life: If he wins, you’ll grant him life…”
“You miserable fool! What are you aiming at?” asked Death coldly giving him a frightening look, but he withstood the gaze without lowering his head.
“Death, you are the ruler of life… give me one more chance and please, don’t take me with you, oh, not as yet…” he pleaded. Death asked ironically:
“Why do you think I should give you what you are pleading for for free? I am not a State Lottery!”
“I know… I’m sorry…” for the very first time during their conversation his voice trembled. “I’m sorry, I thought, maybe I could learn… to love.”
“Love? Wow! Ha, ha! You pathetic little worm! This is ridiculous! You are too old, don’t make me laugh.”
“Oh, don’t get angry, I think, I do not deserve to die yet… Love… you know, I didn’t know what love is, I mean, I haven’t met love yet.”
“Love? What the hell is this now? You are confusing me! There is this decree, I have my orders!” Death took a sheet of paper out of its mantle. “Here, look, everything is written down. I work legally!”
“I know,” Van Der Graaf shrugged his shoulders resigning to his fate.
“What do you think you know? Hell you know!” Death started to wave its skeletal hand. “You think I do enjoy my job, don’t you? Well, my job isn’t exactly easy! There is always out there at least one smart arse like you! Always someone with connections and protections! You rascal, do you know how much work I have to do?! You don’t have a clue! Of course you don’t! And how much of it is still waiting for me; the wars, the crime… soon there’ll be the end of the world… Oh, Satan, I shouldn’t even think about that! And you, you are fucking around with me! There are so many out there just like you, who want this and that, they say they do believe in God, in love, in creation and recreation, blah, blah… No one can fuck around with me!”
“Don’t get cross!” the poor wretch squealed.
“Enough! Enough of pretentiousness!” The Grim Reaper turned its hollow eye-sockets to the watch. “Time is money! What was it that you wanted? Prolongation of your life? O.K. Sign here.” Death handed him a pencil and some kind of a form.
“Whe… Where…?” he extended his shaky hand, while Death, losing patience, shouted, “Here! Let’s keep moving! Sign here! Postponement! What’s up? You’re staring, huh? You can’t believe it? Hey, chum, I am also just a small cog of the cosmic bureaucracy! I also have to show my bills, there is someone out there to whom I have to give my report too. So, that’s what you’ve asked for — until you learn to love? You’ve got a deal! Take my advice: learn to love! Because: non quam diu, sed quam bene vixeris refert; or — doesn’t matter how long your life was, but it matters how good it was… and, without love life isn’t worth living!” With the last sentence Death showed off his knowledge of ancient languages, in this case Latin, and then he raised his skeletal fingers in the air as a greeting. “All we need is love!” With a sour grin, it disappeared into darkness.
And than, Van Der Graaf suddenly woke up…
HA, HA, HA!!!!
… and found himself lying next to his beautiful, young, red-headed wife.
“Ahh!” he moaned pressing tighter against her. “I had a horrible dream. I was a crazy writer sentenced to death, and then Death itself had saved my life!”
“Don’t worry, dear! Let’s get back to sleep.” She put her warm, long leg over his belly. “It’s early morning.” She kissed him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Van Der Graaf embraced her and fell fast asleep.
For a little while, she was listening to his rhythmical breathing, before the calm dream came over her as well.
When she opened her eyes some time later, she found her dead husband lying next to her.
(Translated by Branka Cubrilo)
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