Death defines. It’s constant. It’s whole. It’s pure.

But, as Saddy gazed out from her balcony, death is not what she saw.

Rather, decay laid before her.
The once sturdy thatch roofs and strong wooden walls of the village bowed under shadows without substance.
The squat and heavy houses were home to people who were equally failing.

Once happy, they had become surprisingly thin. Their eyes haunted and no longer shone. Rather, they reflected and absorbed the dense and murky air among them. Moving stiffly, if at all, they completed their daily duties without joy or urgency. Each day was just another day just like the one before it and the one in the future. Each breath was just another unnecessary effort for what, they could not imagine.

Truly, they awaited death.

There was nothing else. Life had lost effort.

Saddy wished that she could feel their pain, but there was no pain to feel.  
There was nothing to feel but tiredness.  

Still, she stood tall on the castle’s balcony.   Her eyes held steady on the horizon.  The sun was dropping.   The people below disappearing.   Soon, there wouldn’t be a living shadow left. 

But, there could be undead ones.
These are long shadows.  Just one could encompass a house and the people inside.   It could stealthily enter through the windows or crash through the doors.   Sometimes, should the shadow feel the urge, walls crumbled.   A tug of the wrist could cause the roof to shatter.   The insides of the house become exposed to the outside world. 

Most likely, the residents of the house shared the same fate. 
Their insides exposed outside.  

The cold morning light pulls back these shadows. 
The villagers bury the dead, providing there’s enough to bury, maybe feeling a little envy. 
The process is automatic, the graves pre-dug.  Three self-appointed men dully complete the routine. 

And the day goes forward, just like the one before it, just like the day after.  

Until, Saddy speculated, there will be nothing left. 
No houses.  No people.  No streets. 

But, she wondered, if she would still be here.  

Occasionally, the shadows pooled around the gates.   She watched them swirl.   Her eyes becoming lost in the deepness black and purple that encouraged her to forget.  Forget who she is and, more importantly, who he is.   She could let them in and forget.  To abandon.   To feel free.

But the shadows never came in.   

If they did, she wouldn’t stop them.  

But, they cannot.    The gates, while not as pure as they once were, were strong.   Splintered holy wood held together by salt-soaked iron hinges blocked them.  Despite their desire, the tatters of a once sanctified institution defies them.  

It was only a matter of time.
Wind.  Rain. Cold.  Even the very sun would render even the best of men’s barriers useless.   They would bow under the passage of time.  Reinforcement and care were needed to survive the surging shadows and hold back the darkness. 

Continuing faith.  

Saddy did not have that faith. 

She welcomed the unrelenting passage of time.