Aspects of Hopelessness

Man on the streets: Mors of Ardea?

-looks up from contemplation-

Mors: Aye?

Man: Do you have time to answer a few questions for me? It would only take a moment of your time...

Mors: My friend, all I have is time. Please, sit down.

-the man sits down on the bench in the park-

Mors: Now, what may I aid you with?

Man: When does one know when to stop?

Mors: Stop what?

Man: Everything.

-a small hesitant pause-

Man: Not necessarily life, but the will to live...

-Mors nods as the man trails off, and he considers-

Mors: When they no longer believe there is a way out.

Man: ...When they no longer believe? But that changes for every per---

Mors: When they no longer believe /there is a way out/. When they no longer think they can improve their life... and when they no longer think anyone else can help them.

Man: Isn't there usually a way out, though?

Mors: Usually.

-pause as he collects his thoughts-

Mors: as long as there is still something that can be tried... you cannot stop yet.

Man: So what if there is still a way out, and the person doesn't believe they have one? What do they do?

Mors: As the philosophers Lennous and Mcartnian once wrote, "One must always remember what friendship means, and seek council from those who you treat as so in times of need, as they have sought council in you."

-the man considers for a long while-

Man: I will think on these things for many years to come. Thank you.

-the man bows graciously and leaves. Mors nods after him and returns to his own thoughts-

Aspects of Death

Setting: A stone bench near the rear of an empty, cold church.


Mors: A funeral has just passed. The mother and sisters were crying. The men had set their expressions grim, jailing their own emotions til the safety of solitude. A single little boy asked a question to his father, a question that made this fierce looking man break down and sob like the women.

-pause-


A simple question, really, "Why?" One that has so many answers, so many direct solutions, but none that people can comprehend.


-pause, as he collects his thoughts once more-


I believe that one of my colleagues holds that death is a necessity, simply another stage in life, another stop on the path. Another believes that those who die had been weighted down by their sins and evils until their will to live simply broke.


-a long pause as he looks at the body of the young girl on the alter, no more than fifteen, surrounded by flowers and pools of scented oils as she awaits her final caretaker to tuck her into her final bed. he sighs-


What, then, when life is not truly lived? What evils could one such as this have done, I wonder, to cause her death?


A thought occurred to me some time ago, sitting here in this chapel, watching all the lonely people go through their day, listening to the preacher's words on life. It is a thought that scares me and gives me strength all at once, as I walk through the trials of life.


-a pause. he looks away from the corpse and down at his hands-


What if people simply die?