Prompt from Carmarthen: Death, Alexander the Great, sand, scarlet.
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"I can die."
It wasn't a question. Alexander stood on the beach, watching the waves lap at the shore. First they touched his toes, then his ankles, growing ever larger. The sea did not yield to him.
"I have conquered the world," he said. "Defeated Darius and his army. Pushed Macedonia to the edges of the earth."
The waves persisted, reaching his calves now, washing away the dirt and the grime.
"All that I see is mine. None stand before me. And yet..." One hand lifted to gently touch the bandage just below his ribs. The edge of a sword, and the scarlet blood had flown freely. In him as in any other man, though some said surely he was a son of Zeus.
"And yet, I can die."
"Yes," said Death. "You can die.
Grains of sand itched underneath his feet. He felt alive.
"I will die," he said.
"You will die," she agreed. "As men do."
"When?"
Death smiled. "Another day, Alexander," she said, as the waves rushed in. "Another day."
And then she was gone.
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