A/N: My favourite Terry Pratchett characters are Death and the witches.
I've tried to write a story combining them as equally important characters.
Also includes the anthrophification (???) of Life. This is the first
chapter. I'm hopefully going to continue but I'm not sure.
Death glared at the life timer in his hand, this was quite an achievement considering it is actually fairly difficult for a skull to glare. There was a small amount of sand left in top half. It was slowly trickling down into the bottom.
SHE WILL NOT COME EASILY. Said Death.
The girl in question was walking slowly across the moors. Towards Lancre, she was around 16 and alone. She was being watched, not just by Death but also by three witches.
'Oh. So that's her is it?' Nanny Ogg asked.
'She's. young.' Said Agnes Nitt. 'And thin.' Added Perdita, from inside Agnes. Agnes Nitt brought a whole new meaning to schizophrenic; she could hold entire wars in her head. Providing of course Perdita wasn't in one of THOSE moods.
'Must be mustn't she.' Said Granny Weatherwax slowly. But she adjusted the image again. Scrying was an inexact art, only when you didn't know what you were looking for. This coven did. But Granny Weatherwax was still staring at the girl.
'Esme? What is it?' Gytha Ogg asked.
'Just tryin' to see her face is all.'
'Why not many kids with hair like that is there?' Granny Weatherwax shrugged slowly. Shrugging was not a very Granny Weatherwax motion, Weatherwax's were sure of themselves. They nodded, they shook their heads sometimes they completely ignored you but they never shrugged.
'Not many kids with hair like that is there Esme?' Nanny Ogg said again. Agnes and Perdita were both puzzled.
'No. No. Very uncommon hair colour is silver.'
'Especially with red stripes.' Said Agnes whilst Perdita made a comment about premature grey hair and witching. But Agnes thought it better not to mention it.
'Shall we meet her then?' Nanny said pleasantly. Agnes groaned. Broomsticks are not a good idea when you are roughly the same shape as a bag of flour. 'An over stuffed bag of flour.' Perdita added cruelly.
The witches set of into the night, because that's what witches do. Generally because setting off into the night sounds better than setting off into the midmorning drizzle.
Death wasn't happy. Of course being Death you aren't normally anything. Glands are a necessary part of emotions. So in this case it would be more accurate to say Death thought he wasn't happy. *
The teenage girl he was watching was late. Soon to be in more ways than one. She had an appointment with him in around three days time. Of course three days was long enough time for a lot of things to happen. Especially for a witch. Witches have ways of cheating Death.
This explained why this particular silver and scarlet haired youth had been going to dye in three days for the past four years.
Witches aren't born, but they are chosen. This particular witch had been chosen in. about thirty minutes time. Life of course was cruel and annoying in Death's experience of her. She was clingy, immature and meddlesome. He had an impression that she was behind this somewhere. **
Landing was easier than taking off. Agnes thought. 'Possibly because there gravity on the way down.' Perdita snapped.
Granny Weatherwax marched towards the girl, scarlet and silver hair flying everywhere.
'Hello, you're looking for us.' Nanny Ogg smiled brightly 'Want a sweet?'
'No, thank you. who are you?'
'We could ask the same thing.' Perdita said. She was angry at being cold and wet.
'I'm Nanny Ogg; this is Agnes Nitt and Perdita. Don't ask. And this is.'
'Oh, I know Esme Weatherwax.' The girl turned and smiled. 'She's family.'
Death sighed deeply. This would have to be dealt with, he glanced down at the life timer the words ALISON LILITH WEATHERWAX.
* But for literary purposes we'll leave that fact out. After all it sounds better.
** Life is usually behind most living things.
Death glared at the life timer in his hand, this was quite an achievement considering it is actually fairly difficult for a skull to glare. There was a small amount of sand left in top half. It was slowly trickling down into the bottom.
SHE WILL NOT COME EASILY. Said Death.
The girl in question was walking slowly across the moors. Towards Lancre, she was around 16 and alone. She was being watched, not just by Death but also by three witches.
'Oh. So that's her is it?' Nanny Ogg asked.
'She's. young.' Said Agnes Nitt. 'And thin.' Added Perdita, from inside Agnes. Agnes Nitt brought a whole new meaning to schizophrenic; she could hold entire wars in her head. Providing of course Perdita wasn't in one of THOSE moods.
'Must be mustn't she.' Said Granny Weatherwax slowly. But she adjusted the image again. Scrying was an inexact art, only when you didn't know what you were looking for. This coven did. But Granny Weatherwax was still staring at the girl.
'Esme? What is it?' Gytha Ogg asked.
'Just tryin' to see her face is all.'
'Why not many kids with hair like that is there?' Granny Weatherwax shrugged slowly. Shrugging was not a very Granny Weatherwax motion, Weatherwax's were sure of themselves. They nodded, they shook their heads sometimes they completely ignored you but they never shrugged.
'Not many kids with hair like that is there Esme?' Nanny Ogg said again. Agnes and Perdita were both puzzled.
'No. No. Very uncommon hair colour is silver.'
'Especially with red stripes.' Said Agnes whilst Perdita made a comment about premature grey hair and witching. But Agnes thought it better not to mention it.
'Shall we meet her then?' Nanny said pleasantly. Agnes groaned. Broomsticks are not a good idea when you are roughly the same shape as a bag of flour. 'An over stuffed bag of flour.' Perdita added cruelly.
The witches set of into the night, because that's what witches do. Generally because setting off into the night sounds better than setting off into the midmorning drizzle.
Death wasn't happy. Of course being Death you aren't normally anything. Glands are a necessary part of emotions. So in this case it would be more accurate to say Death thought he wasn't happy. *
The teenage girl he was watching was late. Soon to be in more ways than one. She had an appointment with him in around three days time. Of course three days was long enough time for a lot of things to happen. Especially for a witch. Witches have ways of cheating Death.
This explained why this particular silver and scarlet haired youth had been going to dye in three days for the past four years.
Witches aren't born, but they are chosen. This particular witch had been chosen in. about thirty minutes time. Life of course was cruel and annoying in Death's experience of her. She was clingy, immature and meddlesome. He had an impression that she was behind this somewhere. **
Landing was easier than taking off. Agnes thought. 'Possibly because there gravity on the way down.' Perdita snapped.
Granny Weatherwax marched towards the girl, scarlet and silver hair flying everywhere.
'Hello, you're looking for us.' Nanny Ogg smiled brightly 'Want a sweet?'
'No, thank you. who are you?'
'We could ask the same thing.' Perdita said. She was angry at being cold and wet.
'I'm Nanny Ogg; this is Agnes Nitt and Perdita. Don't ask. And this is.'
'Oh, I know Esme Weatherwax.' The girl turned and smiled. 'She's family.'
Death sighed deeply. This would have to be dealt with, he glanced down at the life timer the words ALISON LILITH WEATHERWAX.
* But for literary purposes we'll leave that fact out. After all it sounds better.
** Life is usually behind most living things.