Tag Archives: angel of death

Poetry Friday ~ Afraid & Grave

2 Nov

Hello, everyone! Welcome.

I’m taking part in Colleen Chesebro’s Halloween edition of Tanka Tuesday. I’m sharing an Etheree poem today.

halloween-Colleen Chesebro-Tank_Tuesday-etheree-angel of death-Poetry_challenge-Poetry_Friday-Vashti Quiroz Vega

Author, Colleen Chesebro

Afraid and Grave are this week’s prompt words chosen by Colleen Chesebro ~ The Fairy Whisperer.

*The catch is that we can only use the synonyms to these words in our poems.

Colleen hosts a challenge that anyone could participate in called, Colleen’s Weekly Tanka Tuesday Poetry Challenge every Tuesday, and you have until Sunday to create a post featuring your Haiku, Tanka, Haibun, Etheree or Cinquain poem. She is an author and poet, and also does book reviews and so much more on her blog. Be sure to check it out.

Poetry_Friday-Halloween-Vashti Quiroz Vega-angel of death-Vashti Q-The Writer Next Door-etheree-poem

Angel Of Death




bony hands

don’t be fearful

The angel of death

where she leads you follow

to your final resting place

into the darkness this night you

must go, lest her cold claws grab your feet

and sharp fangs bite into your very soul

Poetry_Friday-Vashti Quiroz Vega-Vashti Q-The Writer Next Door-poetry challenge-Halloween


Have a wonderful day!

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If you’re a book-dragon like me, you enjoy reading lots of books. Don’t forget to leave a review at Amazon or Goodreads. The review doesn’t have to be long or fancy. A couple of sentences will do and it would mean the world to the author. Thank you!


A Time to Mourn and a Time To Dance – Finale

31 Mar

a time to mourn and a time to dance

Hello, everyone! I hope you enjoy the 3rd and final installment of A Time to Mourn and a Time to Dance. Be sure to read Part 1 and Part 2 of the series before you read the finale. Your comments are helpful and very appreciated. Thank you!



A Time to Mourn and a Time to Dance


by Vashti Quiroz-Vega


“What is the matter?” I asked her.



“I feel weary, that’s all,” she said, but I knew it was more than that.



“Are we going for a walk today?”



“No, I don’t feel up to it.”



“Have you lost your will to live?” I asked.



She looked at me sideways and then scowled. “I do not want to walk. I do want to live!”



Sparks of life flew out of her eyes. I grinned watching her face twitch as she tried to remain serious but she burst out laughing instead. I sat by her side. She leaned her body toward me and rested her head on my chest. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.



I was overcome with emotions new to me. How did I get here? Why has this strange girl grown so fond of me? What does she see when she looks at me? Does she not see the darkness in my eyes? Does my long, sable, tangled hair not look suspect? I am large in stature and powerfully built––does this not seem menacing?



It would be so simple to place my hand over her small nose and mouth while she slept until she could draw breath no more, or break her neck with a quick flick of my wrist. She would never know death had come for her. But she slept the sleep of an infant over my beating heart. Surely death could wait for another moment, one that would be less filled with upright virtue and pure faith. She believed in me, and she saw goodness in me that no one had ever seen. Most people knew me instinctually and tried to flee from me in fright. She welcomed me into her heart. Yes, death could wait.



She awoke and as she opened her eyes, the day seemed brighter.



“How long have I been asleep?” she asked.



“Not very long. Did you sleep well?”



“I never slept more soundly.”



“Now that you’ve had your rest, would you like to go for a walk?”



She extended her hand toward me, and I reacted. She caressed my face. I closed my eyes to isolate the gentle stroking. No one had ever shown me such kindness. When I opened my eyes I saw the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, and she was touching my face in a way that made my heart beat faster.



“I must leave now. I promised my mother I would not stay out late today.”



She stood up slowly, and I watched her walk away. She looked over her shoulder once and smiled a lighthearted smile full of hope. That’s when I decided to disable the communication with above. I knew I could not complete this task. Not now––perhaps not ever.



I returned to the forest several times after that, but she never showed. After a few days, I decided I could not wait any longer. I missed her. So I went to knock on her door. A burly man opened the door, and I got the expected wary look.



“Yes, who are you looking for, son?” he asked while looking at me sideways.



“I’m looking for Abigail.”



The man’s face turned solemn. “What do you want with her?”



“She is a friend. I haven’t seen her in a while. I worry for her.”



“There is reason for worry. She is very sick. The cancer we thought––hoped she had defeated at the age of eighteen has come back with a vengeance. Her life is only about pain and anguish now.” His voice was hoarse, and wells formed in his eyes. “She was always such a sweet, happy young woman. She does not deserve to suffer so.” Shaking his head, he turned to go back inside the house.



“Wait! Please, tell me where she is?”



“Oh, you don’t want to see her like this. It is an awful sight.”



“I do want to see her,” I said. “I need to see her. Please tell me where to find her.” My heart stuttered, and a falling, spinning down feeling overtook me.



“She’s at the abbey with the nuns,” he croaked, turning his back on me as he entered the house and shut the door.



The abbey was not far. I was there in no time. I watched her briefly from a distance. She squirmed and groaned on the bed. I locked the door and approached her––my countenance tumbling into darkness. I waited too long. It is because of me she suffers so. I could have spared her this agony. When I reached her bedside, she glanced at me and smiled despite the anguish she endured but it was the kind of smile meant to soothe someone else’s spirit and it looked incongruous on her face.



“I knew you’d come,” she said between soft groans. I noticed the effort she made, trying to remain still and quiet, but at times a moan escaped her lips. I passed my hand over her head and caressed her ashen, emaciated face. She held my hand with both of hers.



“Abigail, do you want to live?” I asked, my voice quavering.



She shook her head slowly and whispered, “No.” Streams meandered down her face.



For the first time, I expanded my large, black wings and allowed her to see. “Don’t be frightened,” I said.



“You never frightened me. I knew all along you were an angel,” she said, wincing and whimpering.



“I am the angel of death.”



She gazed lovingly at me. “Give me peace.”



I reached for her and held her in my arms. I leaned my head forward, and she caressed my face. I kissed her on the lips. The sweetest kiss I’ve ever known. And she breathed her last breath.


The End

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Copyright © 2014 by Vashti Quiroz-Vega. All rights reserved.

Do you believe that everyone has a designated time to die?  Do you believe in destiny?