Tété and Death in the Flowering Forest

The forest still slept under a veil of silence, wrapped in a soft mist that lay like a protective mantle over the dew-kissed flowers. Tété, feeling the morning chill, carefully pulled on her boots, adjusted her coat, and let out a long sigh, as though preparing for something far greater than a simple walk.

The clock read 6 a.m., and the world around her seemed suspended in time. The sun, shy and hesitant, began to peek over the horizon, tinting the sky with hues of lilac and gold. A light breeze drifted in from the coast of St. David’s, Wales, carrying the salty breath of the sea mingled with the fresh scent of wildflowers.

The distant hills were cloaked in a vivid carpet of colour—blues, purples, and yellows painted by flowers defying the end of winter. The leaves on the trees swayed gently, as if whispering ancient secrets, while the distant crash of waves completed the serene melody of the morning.

Tété looked around, feeling both part of the landscape and an intruder in it. There was something magical in the way the day was breaking, as though the forest held a mystery she was about to uncover. Something lingered in the air that morning—something she couldn’t quite name—but it made the world feel denser, more alive.

Suddenly, a figure appeared between the trees. It was not frightening, nor dark, yet its magnetism froze Tété in place. The figure, bathed in translucent light, spoke in a voice that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

Death: Ready for the walk, Tété?

Tété (hesitating): Who are you?

Death: Why, it’s me—Death. Don’t be afraid; I haven’t come for you yet. I only mean to walk beside you.

A shiver ran down Tété’s spine. She wanted to run, but something in the calm of that presence held her there.

Tété (breaking the silence): Death? The real Death?

Death: Yes. Though I am many things to many people. Today, I am simply a companion on your path.

Tété: Why are you here? What a nuisance!

Death: Because you called me. All the questions you carry about me have drawn you to this meeting.

Tété began to walk, cautiously, and Death moved with her. Her boots crunched softly on the frost-kissed leaves, while the figure beside her seemed to float, never touching the ground.

Tété (with sarcasm): What are you, really? I want to understand… but at the same time, I don’t.

Death (meeting her eyes): I am the pause, Tété. I am the full stop at the end of every sentence, the shadow that gives shape to the light. Without me, the story of life would be chaos—without meaning.

Tété (gesturing toward the woods): But why does it have to end? Why must something as beautiful as life come to an end?

Death (sighing): Ah, Tété… Life doesn’t end because of me. It renews itself. If there were no endings, how would there be space for the new? The flowers you admire so much must die so others may bloom. Even this morning’s dew will fade, feeding the soil.

Tété (irritated): But what about us? What about the people we love? How can we bear losing what is most precious?

Death (a warmth radiating from his form): It isn’t about bearing it—it’s about understanding. The pain of loss is the echo of love. The end doesn’t erase that love; it transforms it.

Tété stopped, gazing at Death, who stood before her—serene, yet unyielding.

Tété (resigned): Still, it’s difficult. You’re seen as an enemy, something to avoid, to fear.

Death (with quiet relief): Because you fear the unknown. But I am no enemy—I am part of the dance. Without me, goodbyes would have no weight, and reunions no joy.

Tété (placing her hand over her heart): And when my time comes? How should I face it?

Death (with a gentle smile): With the same boots you wear today. Be prepared for the journey—not as an act of courage, but as a gesture of love for yourself and for the path you have walked.

A single tear traced Tété’s cheek. It was not fear, nor sadness, but something closer to peace. Death was not what she had imagined—more reflection of life than absolute end.

They continued their walk through the forest, the sound of damp leaves beneath her boots echoing like a soft melody. Tété knew she still had countless questions to ask, but for the first time, she felt ready to listen.