Summary: It is a well known and regarded fact by virtually everybody with a brain, (and sometimes without), that once you die you are collected by Death. But, what if that was not exactly true, and you were collected by someone else entirely? Without Death's knowledge?
Disclaimer: I do not, and will indeed never, own the rights to any of Terry Pratchett's work.
Note from the autor: This is my first attempt at a Discworld fic, so be kind.
Sabbath
It is a well known and regarded fact, (ever since the beginning, and perhaps before that), that once someone's life has been extinguished, you are collected by Death. This is the rule. Once your life has ended, Death arrives to collect and then proceed to take you to wherever you were next expected. This is what has always happened, whether people have thought about it, chosen not to, or had it creep up on them unexpectedly.
But, what if this was no longer the case?
As you continue to ponder on this, imagine if you will an alleyway, at night. Also, imagine that it is raining, hard. And finally, imagine a solitary figure attempting to stay dry, without success. This lone figure was a one Sebastian Antopulis. He was sixety-five years old, single, and to most of his acquaintances a bit of a bore. But these things are unimportant. What is important, is that one Sebastian Antopulis was about to die.
Clutched in his more than a little damp hand was a piece of paper. He had read over it several times in the last few minutes, and was in the process of reading it a further time just to make sure.
It said: "OooEeeOooEeeOoo"
In legend, it is believed that just before a persons death is imminant, a banshee's wail would signal to the world your passing. Whilst this was also true of the inhabitants of Ankh-Morpork, the only remaining banshee on the Disc, the charmingly named Mr Ixolite, was the unfortunate owner of a speech impediment. So, instead of shrieking his message from the rooftops, a note would be slipped under your door or at your feet which would read "OooEeeOooEeeOoo". Normally, the recipient would have just long enough to read the message, allow it to sink in, and then drop dead. But not this time.
Because one Sebastian Antopulis had received the note some one and a half hours ago, and was still waiting. Now, as can be expected, Death has a very busy schedule. But surely an hour and a half was pushing it. It was bad enough that you knew were about to kick the bucket (not literally of course, as it would be a bit difficult once you were dead), but to then be expected to wait was borderline rude.
"Perhaps he's forgotten me" one Sebastian Antopulis wondered aloud, pulling his coat collar up around himself, and allowing the soaked material to leak its contents down his neck. But this notion was absurd. Death never forgot to collect someone.
Now, Death didn't personally collect everyone who had died. Usually only the highest ranks, (wizards, royalty, and people who had enough money and enough brains to pass it on to the right people), were who Death collected personally. And although one Sebastian Antopulis didn't like to brag, at least that is what he claimed, he should have by now have had the decency to be allowed to pop it and be collected by the cloaked skeleton.
"Bugger, whats taking him so long?" one Sebastian Antopulis muttered, border-line fumed, to no one in particular.
He wasn't expecting an answer.
"Sorry. I hope I have not put you out"
It wasn't that someone had suddenly walked into the alleyway and joined one Sebastian Antopulis. It was more the fact that one second he had been alone, and the next he wasn't.
One Sebastian Antopulis didn't even feel the moment he died. He had just clasped his eyes on the figure he was now sharing the alley with, and the next moment he was also staring at his body underneath him. He would be forgiven if he wasn't more than a little shock.
"Who are you?" the now deceased one Sebastian Antopulis demanded.
The person who was now standing over the now expired one Sebastian Antopulis was certainly not Death. In fact, it would be highly doubtful if you could find a much greater polar opposite in terms of dress sense. Not that Death had a dress sense in the first place. The mystery man/woman/animal/vegetable, (the figure wasn't a mix and match of all these things, one Sebastian Antopulis just could't make it out clearly, so in this case he couldn't yet deny that the figure wasn't in fact a mixture of all four things), was dressed as the traditional stereotypical undertaker. The big long black coat, the black top hat, the bright polished black shoes that were just too polished to be natural. 'It' was also wearing black gloves and twirling a long black umbrella in 'its' grip. One Sebastian Antopulis couldn't help but notice that although it was raining heavily, not a single drop landed on the figure in front of him. It was as if the drops purposely turned away just before impact, for fear of hitting and suffering the consequences as a result.
'It' took a step closer to the floating spirit of one Sebastian Antopulis, and removed 'its' hat from 'its' head. Whether it was out of politeness or not briefly crossed one Sebastian Antopulis' mind before he realised what he was now looking at. 'It' wasn't an it, 'it' was a dog. A six foot tall bipedal dog to be exact, with eyes which pierced through his heart like ice. This despite the fact he now no longer had a heart to feel it with.
"Forgive me. I...lost track of time" the dog said as calmly as one would tell the weather. The spirit of one Sebastian Antopulis felt the chill from these words, an amazing feat considering he was now incapable of feeling anything.
"You're not Death" one Sebastian Antpoulis said, almost accused.
The dog looked round his shoulders briefly before turning back to one Sebastian Antopulis "You have noticed. No I am not"
"Then...what are you doing here?" one Sebastian Antopulis asked, more than a little hesitantly.
The dog raised an eyebrow "I would have thought that that would be obvious"
"I wasn't expecting you" one Sebastian Antopulis said, peeking around the figure in the hope that Death had finally gotten around to him.
"You had plenty of time when you knew you were close to dying" the dog answered, ruffling its gloved paw around the cravat around its neck.
"No, you misunderstand. I wasn't expecting you" one Sebastian Antopulis explained, becoming as confused as it is possible for a recently deceased person to be.
The dog nodded "Understandable. I am...new at the job"
One Sebastian Antopulis looked at the dog curiously "Are you here to collect me?"
The dog nodded "Yes. I assume you have had enough time to prepare?"
One Sebastian Antopulis nodded, as much as a spirit was capable of nodding anyway "Yes. But...you will forgive me for being curious. Who are you, and where is Death? The real Death I mean"
The dog shrugged "I do not know where he is"
One Sebastian Antopulis frowned, as much as a spirit was capable of frowning anyway "He didn't send you?"
The dog shook his head, tightening his grip on his umbrella "No"
"Then...why are you collecting me, and not him?" one Sebastian Antopulis asked, beginning to feel a sense of foreboding rising up inside him, even though he no longer had an inside to speak of.
The dog smiled, like a shark would smile at a small unexpecting fish "The rules have..changed slightly"
"They have?" one Sebastian Antopulis asked curiously.
The dog nodded "Yes. Now, I have to hurry you along. I don't want to be eavesdropped on"
One Sebastian Antopulis back away slightly, or floated away slightly due to his present condition "I'm not going with you! You're not Death!"
The dog sighed "One, yes you are. Two, no I am not. I am better"
One Sebastian Antopulis watched as the dog raised its umbrella in the air. It wasn't that it changed from an umbrella before his eyes, it was more the fact that one second it was an umbrella, the next it was a scythe.
The blade of the scythe made a sound resembling a whum for a split second, and a further split second past by before one Sebastian Antopulis realised he had been cut in half, and promptly vanished into the air as a result.
The dog span round on his heels, his entire body spinning round to face the other way whilst his heels remained cemented to the floor, and walked out of the alley. The scythe was now an umbrella once more, although no one had noticed the change. There was no one in eyeshot anyway to see it. And there was no one in earshot either to notice the fact that the dogs footsteps, instead of making the traditional clunk sound as would be expected, made a sound similar to a unk, as if he had become stuck between the two sounds in mid-step.
It is a known fact that the dead are collected by Death. Its been this way since the beginning, and indeed will be this way at the end. But, as has just been witnessed, there now seems to be an exception. Some young upstart is doing the work of Death, without Deaths knowledge. And his name is Sabbath, the Wonder Dog.
As the Great A'Tuin continues his journey through space, a certain robed skeleton finally realises he's losing work...
Tell me what you all think! If you want me to continue with it, tell me and I will be more than happy to oblige! Thanks!
Joe.
