Death

Death's hollow eyes followed the woman, washed up on his shore, intently. Her once lush and shining brown hair was ratty and dirty. She wore a revealing, yet glamorous dress, now stuck tight against her due to the violent waves that submerged her. The woman's eyes were distant, and she payed no attention to where she was or where she'd been. Her hand was clasped around an empty bottle which shook in her hand.

Death smiled limply and walked outside casually. His cloak was waving behind him as he stood, frozen in front of the waves that lapped his shore.

Death was an unusual figure. He wore a long black cloak to cover his black pants and shirt. His eyes were white, like the whites of an egg, and his head was hairless and covered in moving and changing tattoos, playing like movies of different deaths over and over.

The girl sat on her knees, rocking back and fourth. Tears streamed down her Latino face as she clutched the bottle with clammy hands.

Death stepped slowly into the water. His toes touched the sand, but the coolness of the water did not seem to phase him as it did the shivering girl. The waves were pushing at him, but he continued through the salt water effortlessly.

He stood in front of the girl, who was too drunk to even notice him, and he watched her shake. Death had made an immediate decision, as he always did, and it was always the same.

Your time has come

He held out an open palm to the girl, and whether she meant to our not, an uncontrollable force took control of her wasted body. She took his outstretched hand in hers and the pain began to take it's toll immediately.

She began to shake violently, crying out in utter pain. Death entered her body, and she felt as if he dug his blade-like nails straight into her heart, ripping and tearing at her flesh viciously until there was none left for her to live in.

Death held her hand until she no longer moved or shook, and the crashing waves carried her away to her rightful place in her life.

-

Hours passed in his small island, the clock turning while Death enjoyed every death of every victim that washed up. Death continued to direct people to their final destination.

The moon was high in the sky, shining over Death's shore. Death soon sensed the presence of a visitor, and he crept over to the shore. The night had made the water colder, but again this did not bother Death, as he swept silently through the water towards the victim. His feet sunk into the sand, and he wiggled his toes out of enjoyment.

He heard soft whimpers and sobs as he neared. Huddled together in a ball, her arms wrapped around her knees, was a small child. The girl wore a soaked hospital gown, now clinging to her scrawny body. Her eyes were closed tight, tears flowing like a river down her face. She had no hair, and no shoes.

The water choked her small lungs, and cut her breathing short. She caughed roughly, blinking only once or twice. When her eyes opened to look at death, a look of fear, even worse than it already was, became plastered across her face. Sobs escaped her lips uncontrollably, the terror miserably devouring her from the inside out.

Something, a feeling inside Death, made him pause. Death allowed the dark, and tormenting waves to crash around his body. He knelt down beside the girl, almost ready to take her hand and end her life, but instead he gathered her into his arms.

Death held her just like a baby, doing nothing but fighting his split personality. He knew that he wasn't supposed decide whether she should die or not, but where she would go; Heaven or Hell.

Death ignored the tide, and sunk deep into thought. Inside his heart, if he had one, a feeling he never experienced burned fierce. And at that moment, he made an immediate decision. She would not suffer, nor would her family.

Death laid her down in the waves, and placed her back where she came from.

Your time has not come yet, little one.