The Last Boy

Death and Life are always battling and, no matter how many people death claims, life always manages to survive somehow.

One day, however, death thought of a clever new plan.

“All I have to do is kill only the men and boys and then life can’t produce any more people”, it thought.

And so death, out of its cauldron like void, pulled a disease that killed only men and boys and, flying around the world, scattered it like the seeds of a deadly flower.

Now, the disease grew and spread and soon all the men and boys were dying; baby boys in their cradles; young men and old; fathers, husbands, brothers and sons.

Women everywhere wept but, ultimately, there was nothing any could do but accept it.

And, eventually, there was only one boy left in the entire world; a little boy called Lotha.

But, when death came knocking at his mother’s door, she shouted,

“There are no boys here, go away”.

“Are you sure there are no boys in your house?”, asked death, sniffing the air.

“Yes”, replied his mother, “I only have one little daughter called Lotharia”.

But Death did not believe her and so, using the magic in its skull headed walking stick, it opened the door and went inside to have a look.

Inside, death saw a woman with what appeared to be a little girl on her knee.

Lotha’s mother, you see, had dressed up her son as a girl; made him grow his hair long and put make up on him to try and hide his gender .

“Is that really a girl you’re holding?”, asked death, suspiciously.

“Yes”, said her mother, “She’s wearing a dress, isn’t she? And her hair is long and she has make up on her face. Do boys wear dresses or have long hair or wear make up?”.

Death sniffed Lotha closely to see if she smelled like a boy or a girl but his mother, thinking that death might do such a thing, had made Lotha wash in perfume so that, when death sniffed at the boy, he only smelled flowers.

“Hmm?”, thought death, “She certainly smells like a girl”.

But death still wasn’t satisfied.

“If it is really a girl you are holding in your arms, mother, then have her prove it by cooking and cleaning; washing and sewing”, said death.

But Lotha’s mother had thought of this aswell and she had taught her son how to cook and clean and wash and sew and Lotha baked a cake for death; the sweetest and most delicious cake that death had ever tasted and he watched as Lotha cleaned the house, mopping away deaths dirty footprints from the floor and then Lotha washed Death’s long cape until it was spotlessly clean and, last of all, Lotha mended the holes that were in it, sewing them up with fine stitches.

“You see”, said Lothas mother, “My daughter cooks, cleans, washes and sews. Do boys do that?”.

But death was still not convinced . He wanted one last test. He asked if Lotha could dance and sing.

But Lotha’s mother had thought of this too and had taught her son to sing and dance like the girls in his village and Lotha started to do a beautiful dance and sang as sweetly as any girl that death had ever heard; so sweetly, in fact that death started to grow sleepy and begin yawning.

“Very well”, said death, “I’m satisfied that she is a girl”.

Then death, putting on his nicely laundered and mended cloak went on his way.

“Oh joy”, said Lotha’s mother,hugging her son, when death had left.

And Life rejoiced too, because she had managed to survive deaths plague and, in the footprints that death had left outside their door, mother and son saw daisies springing up.