That fateful day, when Death passed by my side, I felt a terrible cold that made me shiver to the bone.
That spectral personage looked me straight in the face and, oh horror, it was a skull.
Terrified, I watched as Death alighted at the front door of my grandmother's house, who was ill.
Without doing anything else, he landed in the doorway and got back on his ghostly horse. I knew then that someone had died, and it couldn't be anyone but my beloved grandmother.
I ran to knock desperately on the door, and a frightened aunt of mine opened it. I informed her that Grandma had passed away, but she looked at me as if I was crazy, for Grandma was still resting peacefully in her room.
Still, we went to check and discovered, with deep regret, that my hunch was true: Grandma had died.
When they asked me how I had found out, I told them about my chilling encounter with Death.
Some did not believe me, but those who still had faith in the legends knew I was telling the truth: I had seen the Knight of Death pass by with my own eyes. An image that still makes my blood run cold when I recall it today.