Heartbeat

The alarm clock sounded off, stirring Herschel from his unconscious state. He groaned in reply, positioning himself upright. He took a few moments to wipe his eyes before reaching over to dismiss the noise. Another few moments to sigh, and to stretch his tired, aged muscles. Each of his joints popping as they stretched.

As he finished, he swept his legs across the bed, placing his bony feet onto the cold floor.

With relative difficulty, he began to rise. His old body straining, having found it difficult to even perform the simplest of things. He was finally unto his feet when he sighed once more.

"Here we go…"

He muttered softly, expecting more difficulty throughout the day. He began his way out his room and into the rest of his house. Now beginning the basic routine of everyday mornings. He first checked his mail, obtaining several letters. He dropped them carelessly onto the table, proceeding to retrieve a coffee mug from the already warmed coffee in his brewer.

Afterwards, he sat at the table, opening the letters and occasionally sipping from the mug.

He tossed the letters advertising retirement homes, but eventually tossed all of them. None pertaining to his interests.

After finishing his cup, he discarded it within the sink, then went into the bathroom. Brushing his teeth. He spat the paste from his mouth, now beginning to rinse it clean.

Now that his morning routine was, for the most part, finished; he began to dress in his normal clothes. Slipping his frail arms through the sleeves of his formal jacket, pulling on his dress shoes, and finishing with the readjustment of his tie and hat.

After ensuring the house was locked, he proceeded to the outdoors. With gray skies looming above, a cold, bitter wind greeted him. He groaned briefly, not favoring the cold weather. Nonetheless, he continued on.

He walked down the sidewalk, others passing who were paced quicker. But he didn't mind a slow walk, even though it was the only speed he was capable of reaching.

Though after a span of time, he eventually reached his destination. A quiet park that was usually absent from people.

He eased into the wooden bench near the walkway, and merely waited. He waited for nothing, really, but he enjoyed the peace. He felt tranquil as he listened to the birds sing. Unfortunately, due to the weather, the birds were absent. But the quiet would take their place.

After some time of sitting, he spotted a fox. It was around twenty feet away, closer than he's ever been to one. But he wasn't afraid, he just eyed it closely. It wasn't alarmed; moving at a slow pace.

Herschel hadn't known why, at first it came to thought it may have been wounded or injured. But it wasn't limping, or had any impediment in movement. It was just simply, walking, as if no one was there.

Gradually, it went off out of sight behind a few trees. So Herschel glanced away, resuming his quiet waiting. But soon, as he waited, his eyelids began to fall. And he slipped away.

Gradually, he aroused from his sleep. He yawned, then finally opened his eyes. He glanced around, and a fog hung close to the ground. He couldn't see any further than thirty feet, and it was a little more colder than it was before.

He was thinking of getting to his feet, until he saw the fox once more. It was trotting towards him this time. At first, he thought to prepare for an attack, but as it drew near it slowed in it's pace.

As it reached the bench, it jumped unto it, landing right next to Herschel and sitting down.

Herschel was surprised, he never expected it to come this close within a human, let alone join his company. He couldn't help but watch it, it was strange. It acted as if it was completely normal.

Then it turned to him, focusing it's eyes unto his.

"Hello Herschel."

His mouth drew open, and his eyes widened in shock. For a few moments, this look was exchanged between the two.

"I-I must be dreaming…"

"I assure you, this is very real."

Another pause, but he spoke again. He couldn't believe it.

"In reality, dogs or-or foxes don't talk."

It smiled warmly. Seemingly appreciating this.

"That's true, they don't, but that doesn't mean they can't. If given the ability."

Herschel closed his mouth, still pondering if he was even dreaming.

"s-s so you? You were given this, this ability?"

"For the moment…"

"To talk to- me?"

"Indeed."

Herschel grew silent for another time.

"This can't be…"

"It may seem, a little unbelievable or impossible."

"A-a little?"

Herschel scoffed. But the fox replied calmly.

"But I assure you once more, this is real. It is why this fog has appeared. To give us this time together…"

"Why me?"

"Unfortunately, you're time has come to an end."

"Wait, wait. You're, death?"

"Indeed."

"Death? But…why a fox?"

The fox smiled.

"Wouldn't you agree it would've caused more panic into those who see me; as you are more familiar with, a skeleton cloaked within a dark robe, carrying a scythe?"

Herschel thought to himself, pausing once more.

"I'm to die today?"

"Soon…"

A moment of quiet.

"How soon? D-do I get to say goodbye to anyone?"

"I'm afraid not…I'd much rather to keep my schedule. I'll give you a moment."

A silence fell between them. Herschel glanced away. He hadn't known what to think, to do, or even how to feel. He had a knot of what he thought, fear in his stomach. He knew someday he would retire from this life. Especially because of his age. But he wasn't prepared for this moment. He didn't think anyone ever was.

"Are you ready?"

Death asked. Herschel glanced towards it, sighing deeply.

"Yes."

"I apologize, in advance for this."

The fox lunged forward, snapping it's jaws around Herschel's neck. As it's teeth sunk, he was sent back. Memories flashed within his mind, his whole life.

Being birthed; first laying eyes on his mother, who smiled upon his arrival. Growing up; learning how to crawl, and taking his first steps. A young boy; watching his parents descend from love, watching bitter fights. Finding broken shards of glass, blood, tears in his eyes. A grave.

A teenager; being secluded from everyone. Constantly being bullied. A young man; being drafted into a controversial war. Remembering faces and friends he'd never see again. An adult; returning home. Finding love. Having children.

An older adult; A crumpled car, cries coming from the fire. His wife. Another grave, another bitter funeral.

An elder; secluded in a tiny home. Not knowing why he still lived to this day. A fox, death.

Herschel still remained sitting, reclined back into the bench. His eyes closed, and his hands folded together on his lap, but his breathing halted. No wounds on his neck or body, just an old man. Seemingly fast asleep. Though, without a heartbeat.