It's a simple concept. The dead never remain dead.
There he is. He's standing there, all alone, a head full of dusty golden locks, face smeared with debris. But he doesn't care. He's different to the others. As he stands in his death suit, he touches his lips. He lingered long enough to witness a kiss he'd only ever dreamt about.
As a matter of fact, he realises, the last dream he'd ever had was of her.
The gates of heaven are there to greet him. He trudges forward tentatively, unsure, watching the entire Himmel Street before him weep as they disappeared through the shining entrance. Distantly, he heard laughter, he smelt sunshine, he felt heaven.
And still, he did not enter.
He didn't want to go.
He turns to Death, about to ask for his opinion when he realises Death had probably never entered Heaven either. He stands there for a while, head tilted, shoulders shaking a little, covered in dust like a jelly coated in icing sugar, mouth agape. Finally, he realises he must say something.
"I-I don't want to go," he finally chokes. "I want to – I want to –"
Frankly, Rudy Steiner doesn't know what to say. He stands there, choking on his tears as he witnesses the beautiful tragedy beneath him called Earth, as he fumbles to understand, at the tender age of fourteen, the wonders and terrors of the human condition.
A little known fact:
Rudy isn't scared. He's completely terrified.
"It's not – it's not fair."
And after thinking about it for a while, he realises that it's best way to phrase it, so he says it again.
"It's just not fair."
A well-known fact:
Life never was.
Death awkwardly stands there, waiting for the child's tears to stop. He thinks about the thousands dead and the many millions more to go. He dedicates a quiet moment to commemorate every single war, battle, disaster there ever was, and the poor, misguided souls who never had a say in the way the universe would turn. Silently, he agrees.
It's just not fair.
A confession
"I don't – I don't want to die like this."
Death, who had never been in Rudy's circumstance and never would be, curiously studies the boy.
What Death discovers
The boy is just a boy.
All boys are just boys.
Men are just men.
Colours are just colours.
Life is just life.
And death...is just death.
It's the truth, Death realises. So he tells the boy as his own confession.
Rudy's unsatisfied. He shakes his head of dusty locks, flinging pieces of his bedroom ceiling around him. "You're wrong," he says.
The correction
Colours are colours.
Life is life.
And death is, well, it's death.
There's something about the way Rudy Steiner is saying it, but Death stares a little. How should one estimate the human race without overestimating it, or underestimating it, or not even truly estimating it at all? How does one approach humanity – with a grimace or with a smile?
How did – how could – the dead ever smile?
Rudy, meanwhile, is still unsatisfied.
"Do something," he urges, "say something. Feel something. Dream something."
What could Death ever aspire to become? How should Death ever ignite with the human condition and experience the pain, the suffering and the happiness? What should Death say?
There was, however, something Death could do.
"Follow me," he simply says to a surprised Rudy, "Do what I say. Come with me."
A dim light of hope rose in Rudy's chest. This was it. This was his finest moment.
Death turns around gently and places a bony hand on the boy's left shoulder. The two of them leap through time, flying through and tearing down the gentle seam of fate.
What Death sees
Colours. So many colours.
He shouldn't be doing this.
What Rudy sees
Visions of greatness.
Miracles and tragedies.
Life and death.
Birth and destruction.
Liesel.
Pure awe shines across his features. There's something about him, something that feels a little different, a little lighter, alive. He turns to his companion, speechless.
Death justifies himself.
"I am giving you a second chance."
It was, after all, a well known concept. The dead never truly remain dead.