About Death

     At the edge of the forest, a gamekeeper lived in a forester’s lodge with his wife. Only occasionally did people from the village visit them. Who would want to walk such a distance? And so it happened that a child was born to them.
     In its cradle, it looked like a tiny little feather. It was barely visible. The parents were overjoyed.
     As they rejoiced in their happiness, they didn’t even hear someone knocking at their door. Only when the knocking grew louder did the man say, “That must be the neighbors coming for the christening.”
     He went to open the door. But how surprised he was. On the threshold stood a gaunt, bony figure, her head wrapped in a woolen scarf. In her hand, she held a scythe.
     “Good heavens,” the gamekeeper was startled, “surely Death herself hasn’t come to us?”
     “You’re not mistaken,” said the visitor in a quiet voice. Then she added, “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
     “Come in, dear lady,” he said in a trembling voice. He stepped aside, and the Grim Reaper entered the room. She looked around and then approached the cradle. She bent over it and gazed intently at the child. Her actions frightened the gamekeeper’s wife. She quickly grabbed the child and held it tightly to her chest.
     Death smiled: “Don’t be afraid, I won’t take your son today. I just came to see him. When ten springs have passed, I will visit you again and take him to my realm beyond.”
     The housewife stared at her in terror, watching her every move. The gamekeeper was the first to recover from the shock. He said, “Sit with us for a while. Surely you’re tired after such a long journey.”
     He offered Death a chair. She sat down slowly. A deathly silence filled the room. Suddenly, the gamekeeper said, “I’d like to ask you for something. Since you came to us first, be my son’s godmother.”
     Death nodded in agreement. The gamekeeper handed her a glass of wine. The visitor put down her scythe and took the glass. Then she said, “So that he remembers me, I give him the name Smrtislav.”
     The man and his wife exchanged questioning glances. “Alright, as you wish,” said the gamekeeper.
     Death finished her wine and said, “I must be going. I have much work to do today.”
     “Where would you go, dear godmother, stay with us a bit longer.”
     The gamekeeper lifted the jug to pour her more wine. She raised her bony hand and placed it on the glass. Then she stood up to leave. At the door, she turned and said, “Don’t forget my words. We’ll see each other again soon.”
     She walked slowly down the path. Soon, she disappeared from their sight.
     Both were stunned by what had happened. They thought it must have been a vision. Their thoughts were interrupted by another knock. This time, the first villagers were arriving. They didn’t mention to anyone what had happened.
     “Why do you both look so sad? As if Death had visited you?” joked the mayor. “At a christening, there should be joy. Musicians, play a cheerful song!”
     The clarinet began to play, the violins joined in, and the bass rumbled. The mood in the room changed at once. When the band fell silent, someone asked, “And what name did you give your son?”
     “Smrtislav,” the gamekeeper said quietly.
     “Smrtislav,” repeated the mayor, “I’ve never heard such a name in my life. But what does a name matter? The main thing is that the boy grows up to be an honest and hardworking man.”
     “That’s the truth,” the neighbors agreed.
     The feast lasted long into the night. Only late in the evening did the guests begin to leave. The man and his wife were alone again. They looked lovingly at their peacefully sleeping child.
     In the following days, they were so busy that there was no time for gloomy thoughts. True, they sometimes recalled the encounter with Death, but after a year, they had completely forgotten. The boy grew before their eyes like a weed.
     One day, all three were sitting at the table, as usual, preparing for a pilgrimage. Suddenly, they heard a distinct knock. Before they knew it, the door opened and Death stood there. Their blood ran cold.
     “So it’s true,” realized the gamekeeper.
     The visitor said, “I came as I promised, exactly ten years later. I always keep my word! Now, come, boy, let’s go on our journey.”
     She reached out her bony hand to him.
     The gamekeeper suddenly said, “Before you take our son, please grant us three wishes.”
     “So you can’t say I’m ungrateful, I will grant what you ask.”
     “What if the wishes are beyond your power?” the man replied. She only smiled: “Such a thing is not possible in this world. If I cannot fulfill one of them, I will not take your child.”
      So that Death wouldn’t change her mind, the gamekeeper said, “See that tree in the distance, godmother? Whoever reaches it first wins.” Death nodded in agreement.
     The gamekeeper ran in that direction. As he, out of breath, approached the tall oak, Death greeted him with the words:
     “Tomorrow, think of a harder task.” Then she vanished. The man returned home disappointed. His wife immediately saw how things stood.
     “We have a whole day to come up with something,” she comforted him.
     They racked their brains all night, but nothing came to them. Their eyelids grew heavy with fatigue. Soon, they both fell asleep. The sun, already high above the horizon, woke them. They looked out the window. The familiar hunched figure was approaching. Before they knew it, she stood before them. Without ceremony, she asked, “What is your second wish?”
     A saving thought occurred to the gamekeeper: “Long ago, a magpie stole my wife’s golden ring. She would like to have it back.”
     Before the man could finish his sentence, Death handed the woman a golden ring.
     “Is this it?” she asked.
     The woman examined the ring closely and then cried out in shock:
“It really is!” Death disappeared again without saying goodbye.
      All day, they puzzled over a task Death could not fulfill. They thought and thought, but nothing reasonable came to mind. They were slowly resigning themselves to their fate.
     After sunrise, Death appeared before their house. Without ceremony, she said, “What is your last wish?”
     “Godmother, give us your scythe. Father’s broke recently, and yours would be very useful,” Smrtislav spoke up.
     “That, boy, I cannot do,” said Death, “how would I take lives without it? People would become immortal!”
     “Then we have won the wager,” the gamekeeper said joyfully.
     Death nodded. The man and his wife were overjoyed. Smrtislav stayed with them. The parents wept with happiness, proud of their clever son.
     As Death left, she said in farewell, “Don’t rejoice too much! One day, I’ll come for each of you! I am patient. I have plenty of time.”
     And she was absolutely right…
 
 
Translated into English by artificial intelligence.