We all experience death and loss. We lose those we love. We cry, we sob, we mourn, and then we carry-on. Forever, long after the gaping wounds have scarred over, we bear the marks of the grim reaper's sickle deep within our souls. These stories give eloquent witness to that most private of pains. For many of us, particularly those still indulging in the delightful delusions of youth, the faint awareness of our own mortality is dwarfed by the silent terror of death's unceasing advance toward those we love. Despite its strongest opponents-denial, technology, and the sheer will to live-death continues to stalk us. Like some stealthy predator on the edge of our herd, it seeks out the weak, the lonely, the vulnerable. Even when the humid vapors of death seem most remote in our own lives, their warm moist presence haunts those we love, dampening the potential joy in every tomorrow. We hate death, yet it creeps toward us. It encroaches on us and on those we love, as sure and silent as the darkness of night. This volume explores-neither fully embracing nor coyly evading-the mysterious forces that pull us toward finitude, toward life's inevitable demise. If you've confronted the glint of the grim reaper's eye or if you mourn for those who have paid the last full wages of mortal existence, this volume aches with you. These stories were written for you.William Walz's "Far From Home" narrates a deeply moving journey toward death, an elderly man's final return to the home of his youth. It contains, I do believe, some of the most stirring prose that has ever passed before human eyes. Michael Bitanga's "Last Call" records a conversation with the voice of death itself, the lead character bravely offering the inquiries that most of us ponder-but fear to vocalize. In "Shadow in Peripheral Vision," F I Shehadi boldly investigates that glimpse of something that we almost see from time to time. This presence, an image only vaguely caught in the corner of one eye, is our own death. Nothi