AN: This is a short story about how Pratchett's Death would have seen Good Friday. Although a bit late, I hope you still enjoy it. Please Review!


Good Friday through the eyes of Death

There was the hill, with the three crosses on top of it

There was the hill, with the three crosses on top of it. The place was crowded, with friends and enemies of the convicts. The enemies were standing close, laughing and mocking. The friends, outnumbered, were watching from a distance.

But, when there are people to die and people watching them, either with joy or grief, there is always a third party. Someone watching without any emotional interest, but just watching to do his job.

When there are people to die, there is always Death.

He was standing close to the crosses, even closer then the soldiers guarding the crucified. As if there was any guarding to do. And he felt uncomfortable. This was not what he was supposed to do, he thought. Well, of course he was supposed to receive the souls of the dead, and show them the way they had to go, but…maybe the better way to put it, was that this was not supposed to happen.

Death heard the man on the cross in the middle scream something in Hebrew: Father, in your hands I commit my spirit. And at the same moment, Death saw the soul of the man coming out of the tormented body.

When the soul reached him, Death couldn't do anything else but fall on his knees. 'MY LORD,' he said, 'THIS IS NOT…'

The soul of the man who was the highest King of all, smiled. 'Don't worry. I won't stay for long.'