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"I am…dead." He rubbed his throat gently like he remembered the cold metal that it had made contact with. His arms crossed in front of his plastron.
It was a statement, an observation. He had no inkling as to where he was or what was to happen to him; however, he knewwhat his current state was and that I am Death. The thought that I hold the title and the reputation of being the most cutthroat, merciless, barbaric creature to have ever existed surely dwelled beneath those brown eyes. I. Was.DEATH.
"Are they all right… my family?"
Respect surged through me. What kind of person thought of others…while they faced Death? Who was altruistic enough to be concerned with anything but themselves at a time that grim? It is so grim that the noblest crumple before me, begging for themselves, and offers of scapegoats float around before me like hopeful moths, flying towards a light source that is a bug zapper. I then laugh a raspy scoff that encourages the spine to twinge, and my scythe swings around, piercing what is left of their shrunken lewd hearts. The blood flows like water from a fountain, and my robe stains as red as when a pomegranate ripens and the seeds within it burst with full vivid color. Trust me, there is always blood, even when you are dead and gone and long forsaken. I wondered, with hundreds of thousands of the same person beseeching me for more, did I finally find someone else? Did it actually take someone who was not human to embody the ideal characteristic of humanity- selflessness?
"They are… still with the living." The words slipped through my lips before I could stop them. I could see him wonder why I would tell him this. Why would I care? I knew I should send him on his merry way to what comes next, but some transcendental feeling prevented me from doing so. The curiosity caused me to hesitate. I did not want to raise my scythe, and I did not want to pierce his heart. What color was his heart? I wondered. Was it as green as his appearance?
"Why," he started to say, but then he paused, choosing his words with care. "Why am I still here?"
I smirked; however, with my hood on, he would not see it. "Do you really mean why does a creature who is as vile as I am keep you from passing on?"
He stayed at a standstill, staring at me with wide brown portals.
"I was once very much alive, you know. I am not completely heartless as some claim."
"If you were alive, why are you here? Why didn't you-?"
"Pass on? I could not bear to."
"What do you mean?" He ventured.
As I stood there, I saw his curious face, and I realized my horrible mistake. Since when did I let anyone see that I could feel anything? Since when was Death even close to sympathetic?
I knew that I was the only one to notice how the gray was slightly darker; it was a change so subtle but so equally drastic. Then as if to accentuate my grave mistake, footfalls echoed throughout the nothingness. For the first time in one thousand years, what was left of my heart began to beat.
Oh, was I stupid! But there might still be hope that there was time. I shook my sleeve back to reveal a pale hand, and as I studied it, it began to wrinkle. The signs of age erupted all over it.
"It has begun, the rapid descent from an exalted position," I whispered, "or is it ascension?"
"What?"
"My own kin comes to end me. It is possible even for Death to kill Death." I laughed, and the sound rang, both false and forced. "It's too late, Turtle," I mumbled.
The turtle knew that that the situation was dire. He seemed to know more than anyone should when it came to trouble. "What's too late?"
"To kill you clearly." I held my head with my disgusting, feeble hands.
