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This flash fiction piece ponders the question of material things versus more life.


How Much Is Another Moment Worth?

The first piece she gave away was worth more than most. It was yellow gold, with baguette diamonds in a figure-eight pattern. It was a wrench to give up, and no doubt. She had worn the beautiful thing a lot over the course of her short twenty-five years.

            But giving it away was not just for a good cause – it was for the best possible cause.

            Every fleck of gold and every speck of diamond bought her father another hour of life.

            She didn’t question whom she was giving things away to. He had appeared next to her father’s bedside one day, promising miracles.

            His price?

            The beautiful things the girl owned.

            She had always been something of a hoarder. She loved her gold and diamonds.

            But she loved her father much, much more.

            And so, when the hooded, cloaked man appeared by the side of her father’s bed and made the pact with the girl – her beautiful things for more hours of life for her father – she didn’t hesitate.

            She had soon divested herself of her two diamond necklaces, her diamond earrings, and several Swarovski pieces bought years before.

            And it had worked.

            The doctors said six months.

            It had now been ten.

            But now, she had no more beautiful things to trade for more hours of her father’s life. She met the cloaked, hooded man at her father’s bedside.

            She showed the man her empty hands.

            The man was not angry.

            That is not the way with Death.

            Instead, it simply came and claimed its own.

            In tears the girl watched Death carry her father away. At least the end was peaceful.

            And the girl was left with something much more precious than jewels. She had her father’s life, for as long as it could possibly be lived in this world.