The Scent of Death ||Horror Story||

They said my Great Granddaddy Jo was a medical marvel. They said he was a survivor, a fighter with a lust for life. Of course, that was not entirely true. The truth was he made a deal with Death. When I was a kid it was his favorite story. He'd pull me close to him and say,
"Did I ever tell you about the time I cheated Death, Thomas?" And even though I'd hear the story many times I'd shake my head vigorously and ask him to tell me.
"I was barely out of short trousers when I sign up for the army," he'd begin, "but then there was nothing out of the ordinary about that. So many young men died in that first great war. Boys in my regiment barely 15, you know, because they're lie about their age to sign up. Thought they were going to be in for glory. The truth was very different. "

1983 and Grandpa Jo was diagnosed with cancer. I was thirteen at the time and my folks did their best to protect me from the details. All I knew was it was bad. I thought about the stories he'd told me when he was younger and prayed that they were true and that again Death would pass him by.
He did.
After a long and uphill battle, Grandpa Jo went into remission. He was different after that though. He had a haunted look. I never asked him directly about his illness or recovery but I could tell it played on his mind and I knew why.
Once when he was having a particularly bad day he asked me, "What if he never comes for me?" I had no idea what to say.
He was now in his mid 80's and his health was dreadful. He was a wreck of a man, half deaf, almost blind and unable to walk. As a family, we did what we could keep him cheerful, but I always felt his smiles were forced and underneath it all he was afraid.
By 1996, he was in his late 90's and his cancer had returned. He was in hospital wired up to machines that beeped and pumped stuff into him. We had been told there was nothing more they could do for him and it was only a matter of time. For his sake, I hoped that was true.
While he'd become forgetful in his later years his mind was still pretty sharp. One day when I was visiting he was visibly disturbed. At first, I thought maybe he needed more pain medication but after he assured me that was not the case I finally wheedled it out of him.
He wanted me to go get his coin. He'd hung onto it for all these years. His lucky coin that had kept death from his door for nearly a century.
"Maybe I can show him. Maybe if he knows I cheated he'll take me "he rasped.
So I went home and looked. He'd been living with me and my folks for almost ten years at that point and I just about tore his room apart looking for the shoe box he said he kept it in. Sometimes, my mom came in and asked me what the hell I was doing and when I told her, she admitted she had thrown it out.
"Your Great Granddaddy is such a hoarder" she sent "and I just thought it was junk. Anywhere "she added," you sure do not still believe those stories he told you when you were a kid? "
I was not sure if I did or not, but I knew Grandpa Jo did.
When I returned empty-handed to the hospital, he was sleeping, the machinery around him humming softly. I was relieved. I did not know how to tell him my mission had been unsuccessful.
As I slumped in the chair next to him I began to doze off. I was aware of a young doctor quietly entering the room and as he passed me he said in a voice like velvet,
"You should sleep. You need it. "And though I tried to rouse myself I could not. It was like drugged but it felt so pleasant. I felt warm and peaceful for the first time in days, and even though I slept I could clearly hear voices in the room.
"You know I cheated that day?" I heard my Grandpa Jo say quietly.
There was a low chuckle and a soothing voice answered,
"Now Jo you can stop worrying. Of course I knew, but it did not matter. I can not break the rules just as I never made them. It was not your time that day that's all, and I thought playing along maybe give you some comfort in such a macabre situation. You were little more than a child. "
" And the car crash? The cancer? "Grandpa Jo's voice sounded maker.
"Just not your time again Jo" and the sound of his voice made my heart happy. I could smell my mother's kitchen on Christmas day intermingled with the smell of my dog ​​curling up on my feet during the night.
"I'm a deeply misunderstood figure you know," he said in a rueful tone, but I could hear the humor in his voice. "I do not murder people. There is enough hate and disease in this world without my help. All I do is stop the suffering. Can you imagine what it would be like if I did not? "
I could smell my girlfriend fresh out of the shower, and the smell of the beach on a hot summer's day, and I heard my Grandpa's voice very low now,

" Oh yes, that's what I've been afraid of. "
" So are you ready? "
" Yes. "
I awoke with a start when my Grandpa Jo flatlined. There was a rush of medical staff into the room but no attempt was made to resuscitate him as had been his wish.
His face was calm and peaceful.
So Grandpa Jo was wrong. When he comes for you, Death does not smell like decide and fear, or even baby's breath and cat piss. He smells like comfort.