Death’s Strife

By Anthony Chesterfield

Death’s Strife pits father (Life) against son (Death) for control of Earth’s people and their very existence. Father and son have been entrenched in a vicious battle for souls since the beginning of time, but neither is able to achieve victory over the other. Encouraged by the devious Lilith to assume human form and end their eternal vendetta, the two beings travel to Earth with a plan to meet in 1939. Set in Spain at the dawn of the Cuban War of Independence and ending in the middle of the Second World War, the ever-shifting political climate is fertile ground for Death to thrive. However, this time of upheaval exposes Death as not only a stark being to fear but also a sympathetic creature.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984574718

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Copyright © 2019 by Anthony Chesterfield.

Library of Congress Control Number:    2018915206

ISBN:                    Hardcover                          978-1-9845-7473-2

                              Softcover                            978-1-9845-7472-5

                              eBook                                   978-1-9845-7471-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 12/28/2018

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Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Epilogue

To my beloved wife,

best friend, and soul mate, Jennifer Jaffe-Prizel.

Your positive energy, aura, and presence sustain me.

Acknowledgments

Many people contributed directly and indirectly to the completion of Death’s Strife. In addition to my wife, whom I mention on the dedication page, I extend gratitude to the following individuals: my dear children, who are constant works in progress with endless drafts; my parents, who made me who I am; my beloved sisters, who have encouraged me and supported me throughout my life; my dearest uncle, aunt, and cousins, who are immediate family to me and are always willing to listen to my bad jokes; my esteemed grandparents, whom I credit for getting me into the field of end-of-life care; and my sweet in-laws, the newest additions to my family, with whom I greatly enjoy spending time. A special note of thanks to Ms. Ann Flynn, LMSW-R, who supervised me in graduate school at Hospice of Orange and Sullivan Counties and has continued to mentor me for nearly a decade. Many thanks to my dear friend and confidant Zachary Miller-Frankel, my brother and best man at my wedding. Also, many thanks to my two male comrades, CJ Braynt and Irv Mangal, who I met courtesy of my wife; it is always good swapping parenting stories with you. I would like to thank the esteemed Mary Bronzini-Klein, who has guided my neurosis to fruition, dealt with my frustration, and inspired my dreams. And last only in terms of chronology, thank you to my newly minted, beloved nephew.

Prologue

They always blame me for it, you know, said Death.

Blame you for what? asked Life.

Cancer—cells failing to die, growing out of control, and eating healthy tissue. The body cannibalizing itself.

So? What’s your point? Life asked, settling onto a rock in the center of the cave the family inhabited. Art from the dawn of man to the present hung on the limestone walls. Pure rainwater fell from the sky and made its way down inside the cave. Every so often, a member of the family would sit for days under a stalactite, drinking the drops of water, which tasted as pure as manna. In the firmament, the cave was so close to the sun that sunlight was the only light needed, and during the day, it reached even the remotest recesses of the abode. Despite the inhabitants’ lines of work, the home was sterile, with no germs or bacteria of any kind. Such a home was suitable for Death, Life, and Life’s wife, who all worked hard as stewards for Earth. No one in the family had a desire to leave, but Death and Life left frequently to carry out their duties.

My point? My point, said Death, is very simple. Old cells fail to die. They live—which is your domain. You only give the life back to me when it’s on my doorstep. I can’t think of anything much crueler. You make them think it’s all my fault. Cancer? What is cancer? Yes, it is tissue eating healthy tissue—the body cannibalizing itself. Old cells refuse to die, and then cells go haywire. The body’s control mechanism is hijacked. But still, it is abstract. Death’s voice halted as his father interrupted him.

How is it abstract, and what is your point? Life asked.

My point? My point, Death said, mocking his father, is very simple. Old cells do not die, and they grow out of control. In other words, I cede the ailment to you, and you accept it willfully, allowing the cells to grow, and then only give the life back to me when it is on my doorstep. I can’t think of what is much crueler. Yet you dupe humanity into thinking it is my fault, that I am the one who caused their demise, but no, it is not I. Cancer, or some form of it, will become one of the biggest killers in the world. And you, my father, dump that burden on me, not giving me a chance to emerge from your shadow and live my life, Death said somberly. "I want to be my own entity. I do not want everyone to say death is part of life. You are such a phantom, Father. You only come to see me when you have grown tired of sustaining an organism. Beyond that, you do not interact with me.

If you believe the commentary, had mankind not disobeyed God, they would still be in the Garden of Eden, and I would not exist. Blame Adam and Eve if you like. But why keep extending life when there’s no hope? Why make them suffer? We could offer a peaceful death if we worked together. If you didn’t treat me like an enemy.

When you came along, you gave me hell, Life hissed. I didn’t intend to have you. I was supposed to be the only one interacting with man. I wish Adam had listened to God. It says it the commentary of the Hebrews that Adam refrained from procreating after being expelled from the Garden of Eden, as he saw that his descendants were consigned to end up in Gehenna. If Adam had stayed in the Garden with Eve, all would have been immortal, and you would have been extraneous.

Ah, but you forget the next lines, dear Father, which go like this: ‘But then when it was revealed to Adam that in twenty-six generations Israel would accept the Torah, he began to have children with his wife.’ I agree we could have worked together had Adam and Even been the only humans. We would have only had to deal with each other for nine hundred and some years. It would have been bearable, I agree. But unfortunately, we are not dealing with that situation. We have to learn to live together, or we must live apart. Or only one of us must live. Faith and religion are what killed the chance for us to live in harmony. If only Adam had not seen the future of twenty-six generations, Death said.

Yes, we are just filler, remnants that God left over from his creation. He cares nothing for us. He won’t accept when I prolong a life to give a child a chance, nor will he praise you when you take one to put someone out of his or her misery, Life said, fuming.

Genesis be damned, Death whispered. Sure, Genesis describes creation—the creation of sorrow and enmity between us. I wonder how an outsider would describe us.

I wish someone would, but who would be willing to do that? Life asked.

Well, we have interacted with billions of souls since the dawn of time. Why don’t we assign one of them the task? Death said.

If we can agree on one, Life replied. Perhaps this individual could act as a mediator between us.

Perhaps if one does, we can find a way to reconcile, as that could be in our and humanity’s best interests, Death said.

I suppose you are right for once, Life said ruefully. Now, who do you want to raise from the dead?

Adam. He would be the most neutral party, as he was the first one who knew you unaltered and one of the first ones who knew me, Death said.

All right. Life took a lump of wet clay from the pottery wheel nearby. The clay was burnt umber in color; it felt slimy and cold and was hard to control. It slipped through his fingers, as if trying to avoid being formed into anything of substance. Finally, he formed it into the crude shape of a man and breathed life into it.

A man in primitive garb emerged from the clay. One would have expected Adam to be startled at seeing Life and Death, but he had seen them before, and every time Life read Genesis, he could hear his name.

Why do you summon me? Adam asked. Is the end of time at hand?

Not yet. I wish, Life said.

But you can hasten it, Death said.

How so? Adam asked.

We need an outsider’s perspective of our relationship, as we are so estranged yet so enmeshed that we cannot discern how fractured our interactions really are. If you can give us an accurate picture, we would be most grateful, Life said.

Yes, yes, Death said. And if anyone can decipher how dysfunctional we are, it is you, as you not only went from a state of utter bliss to sheer hardship but also had a dysfunctional relationship with Lilith, your first wife, according to some stories.

Adam sighed deeply and said, I hate to admit it, but Lilith would be more effective than I. So turn me back into a lump of clay, and call me when the world ends.

Okay, okay, Death said as he reached out his hand to encircle Adam’s waist.

Wait, Life said as he grabbed his son’s hand and stopped him. Let us see what Lilith says. For all we know, she will need Adam.

You only want him here because he represents the dead rising, Death hissed.

Nonsense, Life said as he took a lump of clay and formed Lilith.

As the clay took on the form of a beautiful woman, a voice came forth, asking menacingly, Why did you summon me? Lilith, who stood some six feet tall, then looked around, saw Adam, ran to him, pushed him over, and climbed on top of him. Her long red hair enveloped her and Adam as she attempted to have her way with him. Her eyes were a sharp, piercing light blue, and her light cream skin was taut. They could see Lilith’s muscles and tendons moving in her arms and legs. It was almost like seeing a fetus move in its mother, as if their movements made up for her lack of children with Adam in the Garden of Eden.

This isn’t fair, Death hissed. Now you have co-opted both of them to create life.

Relax. How much life can be created in a fifteen-minute conversation? Life said. Lilith—he gazed down at the table—my son and I have a favor to ask you. We are trying to reconcile our relationship, yet it is so wounded that we do not know how much work there is to be done. We seek the help of someone who can tell us the answer to this question. At first, we summoned your husband, but he told us that you would be the better candidate.

Lilith climbed off Adam. And why does he say that? she asked. It is the only compliment Adam has given me in five thousand years.

I know, I know, Life said sympathetically. But there is a first time for everything.

Very well. I’ll observe you but under one condition, Lilith replied.

What? Life and Death said in unison.

That you ensure my dignity is preserved on Earth, Lilith said.

Your dignity? Death asked.

Yes. Do you not know the issue Adam and I quarreled over? Dominance and submission!

Death nodded. He had read about that. Lilith had fled the Garden of Eden because she was unwilling to be subservient to her husband. Eventually, she’d come back and, in return, received the right to have dominance over boys until the age of eight days and girls until the age of twenty days.

All I ask, said Lilith, is that should either of you interact with any women on Earth, you always finish last—in all matters.

But how will that accomplish anything? Life asked.

I’ll live vicariously through you and have my revenge. Now, before we begin, take him away. Lilith pointed at Adam.

Life pointed to his son and gestured toward Adam. Despite Adam’s protesting that Lilith was tricking them, Death immediately smashed the man back into the lump of clay he had once been.

When Adam was gone, Lilith said, Now, for the next week, act as you normally would with one another, and I will write a journal entry in the biography of your family. Based on it, we will decide what to do.

For the next week, Lilith observed the family and wrote what she observed. Strong and independent, she was determined to be in control of how she described the feral household. Lilith began her first entry with the background she already knew. The saga of Life and Death had been in motion since the beginning of time, and the relationship had by and large remained tense ever since.

Life had existed since the beginning of the era of living organisms, and Death had been born soon after. Both had hung back in the recesses of the universe, fulfilling their assigned duties to the earth by creating organisms to populate it and taking them from it at the appointed time. A casual observer would have thought such a working relationship between father and son was symbiotic, but no. Both knew that if one of them gained the upper hand too much, the other would be irrelevant in mankind’s mind. Mankind was the only entity that actively cared to think about Life and Death, and man’s fear of being forgotten rendered father and son slaves to the tenets of the Anna Karenina principle. Based on dysfunctional, codependent love, both found the greatest joy and sorrow in mankind.

Both were so busy that neither had time to contemplate reconciling their relationship. Both had financial issues, since they considered every soul to be currency, and they constantly fought over how to divide the currency between them. Life’s parenting was horrendous—at least Death thought so, as did his mother, Gaia.

With silvery locks, soft gray eyes, and skin that was tan from basking in the sun for several millennia, Gaia had watched Life’s antics since the dawn of time. She found him to be pitiful, especially as a father; his inconsistencies and half-hearted parenting enraged her.

Death, as of yet, had no children. Neither Life nor Death followed a religion, but they knew that as mankind became more and more fervent in their faith over the centuries, Life would eventually become supreme, and Death would become obsolete. Tolstoy’s famous line Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way rang true for the family of the most primal. However, one could have