Death came for me last night.

As I slept he reached out and gently stroked my hair.

I opened my eyes and looked up at him.

Beneath his cowl was no skeletal visage, but a young man.

His hair was raven black, eyes, deep blue pools.

He knew my thought, answered my unasked question.

"No, child, not tonight. You're already spoken for."

I didn't understand.

He looked up; above my head was a plaque, on it my Savior's name.

"Even Death has his master."

He looked down upon me and smiled.

His eyes were so kind; I said nothing, only smiled back.

"Sleep now, child. None shall harm you."

I close my eyes and Death pulled the comforter up to my chin.

He stroked my hair again, one last time.

"Someday, you may come with me, child. I promise."

He gently kissed my forehead, and left me for a time.

"I promise."