Prologue:
In which we meet a man named Death,
who is really not much of a man at all.
“Death can do wonders to a man’s reputation”
- Captain Oates
I can not tell you how boring it gets being Death.
No one EVER just calls you to say "Hi". Not even those annoying salesmen. Just once, I’d
like to answer the phone and be able to yell “I DON’T WANNA BUY ANYTHING!!!“ You humans seem to
take such joy in that. When I was alive, phones were not invented yet, and it would be rather difficult to
yell into a phone in my current condition. A human might see me and start screaming their lil‘ head
off, and then the Clean Up Crew would have to be called in, and the Boss would be alerted…no, no
phone calls for me.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t really have anything against you humans, but honestly!
You really just can't stay alive! Every time I turn around another one kicks the bucket! I don't get one
minute of sleep. That’s why I look so cranky all the time. You would be too if it had been a century
since your last nap. But I digress.
I did not come here to talk about me. I came here to talk about a Miss Ebony Blithe. I
knew she was different. The moment she died I felt it. A tingle, running up my spine, a temporary loss
of breath. I knew then, that she was the Imprinted. The heir to the High Death throne. At first, I could
not believe it. She was really nothing special. Simple black hair. Green eyes. She looked of normal
height, though it was hard to tell with her laying down. Her skin was pale with agony, and when I arrived
her breath was at its last struggle for life. I was anxious for her to die and get it over with. The
explaining of death is so tedious.
Ah. That reminds me of the whole reason I agreed to do this prologue fiasco. If you'll all
excuse me for one moment, let me just say one thing. When you die, your spirit will rise up out of your
body. At first you will look around, see your body, and then see me. After you complete this simple
motion, please, please, PLEASE make your first question an intelligent one. I am very, very sick of all
the morons. About 30% percent of you scream, 20% percent refuse to believe your dead, 40% babble
or say nothing at all and 10% percent ask stupid questions.
"Whoa, who are you?" No freakin’ duh.
"OH MY GAWD!!! Am I dead?" No freakin’ duh.
"DUUUUDE are you GOD?" .........I had nothing to say to that one. I mean, really! Only
three people in my 1340 years of work have ever said anything interesting to me after finding out that
they were dead. The first was a man named Albert. Albert Einstein. He looked at me and said, "WELL!
It's about time. Come on then, lets get on with the show!". That amused me. The second was a man
who lived in the 90's. He asked me for a cigarette. I tried not too, but I ended up laughing in his face.
I tried to explain that he was DEAD. He asked again. And of course, the third was Ebony.
She just stood there for a moment. Glanced down at her still body, up at me, and then
down to her glowing hands. I was sure for a moment that she was going to be one of those who says
nothing. But then she looked up at me, and asked me a question I will never forget.
"Um, what’s with the pink robe?" she asked, not a flicker of fear reflected in her eyes.
" I like pink." I replied, simply, after a stunned second. She merely nodded, excepting the
fact that all your stereotypes about Death are wrong.
After a moment of merely staring at each other, I realized that this silence was
an awkward one. I cleared my throat.
“Ebony Renowna Blithe, I am Death, and I am here to escort you to - What?” I asked,
offended when she started laughing. No one has EVER laughed at me. I stared at this girl, for the first
time in my career speechless. Ebony showed no sign of fear as she laughed in the face of Death.
Gender:
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