Books were such fantastic little things, doorways to different realities. Of course, these doors did not send someone there physically, it was all a thing of the mind. The books were doors, each page a piece of building block for the mind to recreate the world. Readers lead multiple lives like these, in different realities, and different forms.

I was no different.

I was not always a reader. It wasn't until my first year in college that I picked up a book, a book for teens but one that instantly drew me in. I have been hooked on books ever since.

Fantasy, Mystery, Crime, Thriller and Horror were my genres, my 'jam' as some would say. There was not one book in those genres that I would read, be it a hard-cover book or PDFs I 'bought' online. It influenced me to write my own pieces, which led to the publishing of a short story through a competition my friend pushed me to join with her.

That was my first and my last publishing.

Of all those books I had read, there were a few that were close to my heart, books I would revisit on a whim or if my emotions were not in the best of state. Amongst those one series stood out amongst the rest, one that I did a lot of rereading, fanfiction writing, roleplaying online even.

A Song of Ice and Fire.

Ask me why I liked this series so much, and all I'll tell you is that I had no idea. Perhaps it was the fact that it was set in the Middle Ages, had political intrigue, and magic yet at the same time a level of realism. I honestly don't know why exactly that particular series drew me in like it did.

It is a shame that I won't be able to read the last two instalments of the series.

I clicked the 'Post' button on my blog, closed the browser and took a deep inhale.

"Peekaboo!"

I looked up from my laptop to the little bundle of joy in the cage at my feet. 'My' cockatiel, the little piece of happiness that kept me company most these days.

"Hello baby" I cooed, put my laptop aside and winced when my attempt to get out of bed sent a wave of pain through my body. Yet I pushed myself to go to the cage and kneel before it.

"Peeku?"

People would say my illness was making me see things, but I've always been able to tell the emotions of my friend from the way he looked at me, how he fluffed himself and raised the feather on his head.

Right now he did not look very pleased that I moved.

"You literally called me you twerp."

I put my hand in his cage and immediately he began attacking my hand. He did not bite me, he never bit me. The rest of the family got a good dose of his sharp beak, but never me. He would tap me aggresively with his beak when he was displeased with me.

"Alright fine, I'll go back to bed."

He stood tall and fluffed up, a sigh that he was pleased.

With a wince, I stood and went back to bed. The damned disease was eating me from the inside. The doctors had no idea what the fuck was wrong with me, a curious and rare case they called it. They wished to study the disease through me, but I told them that I did not want to become a guinea pig of theirs. And so I was discharged and told that it was only a matter of time before the disease took me.

I pulled my pillows to me and switched positions so my head was now where my feet were a moment ago, close to the cage so the little rascal did not feel alone.

He came rushing to my head and started making little cooing and kissing noises immediately.

"Yeah yeah I'm here" I chuckled, poking a finger through the gaps in the cage to scratch him on the cheek. It was one of his favourite spots, the other being on the back of his neck. "What are you gonna do when I'm gone?"

I was tapped aggressively on the finger.

"Okay fine we're not gonna talk about that you brat" I smiled.

There was a time not long ago that this, just me lying around and giving my bird attention was one of the stupidest things I could do. My sister bought him when he was a few weeks old, and kept him in my room because it was the only room with space for a little thing and its box. Naturally, the bird imprinted on me.

He was a burden that I did not want to bear, something I argued at length with my sister. Never in front of the baby, of course, I was not that cruel. I would lose my temper when he wouldn't let me work or rest, drag the cage to my sister's room when he got too much, and the occasional little sharp screams to silence him.

Eventually, all that faded. The frustrations just became natural, I stopped losing my temper and instead of pushing the cage away, I would bring the little thing out and plop him on my shoulder and let him preen and nibble my ear while I worked.

And then my illness struck me and I became homebound. My parents took care of me as much as I would let them. Food and fetching me clothes, that's all I'd let them do for me. My sisters went off to school and eventually, the one who brought the bird went to college, a close one so she was still living with us. So all through the day it was me, my mom, and the little ball of chaos. And since the ball of chaos was in my room, it was mostly the two of us.

"I'm a little sleepy" I mumbled to the little guy. My finger was starting to get cold, probably from being poked through the bars of the cage. My feet felt cold too but that was normal. My feet were always cold.

"Let's take a little nap" my words began to slur. I pulled my finger out and put my hand under my pillow. Fuck my hands felt cold too. Was it a chilly day? It was raining a few moments ago so probably the winds were still blowing chilly.

I watched the little thing stare at me and as my vision began to blur, the boy deflated, elongated his neck and the feathers on his head stood up straight. Danger? Where did he see the danger? Maybe he wasn't looking at me at all. Maybe he'd seen crows outside the window behind me.

He began to scream but I couldn't hear it. Everything was a buzz, like when someone kept their mobile phone close to an old speaker. The fatigue must have been affecting me badly if I had not heard anything.

"I'll play with you more when I wake up" I mumbled, but I wasn't sure if any words left my lips, or words that were coherent.

I closed my eyes and exhaled softly, I'll give him extra attention when I wake up.

An eerie silence had replaced the usual bustle of my home when I woke. I looked out the window and saw that it was dark outside, I must have 'napped' a little too long. I turned to the cage to greet and apologise to my friend, only to find that he was not there. The cage was empty, its door open. The widow was open. He couldn't have…

Panic shot through me and I bolted to my feet and froze immediately.

There was no pain?

My foot tapped the cage and it made a sharp screeching noise. My mind shot back to my bird and I rushed out of the room.

"Maa! The cage door was open! I think-"

I stumbled.

It was dark outside my room. How had none of my 'Always turn on the lights at sundown' family not turned a single light on today? Was there a power outage? That seemed like the likely explanation.

"Maa?" I called out, my voice echoing. That was strange, my voice never echoed inside the house.

"Paa?"

"Naomi!... Nina?!"

The echoes of my call were the only voices to answer back.

I walked blindly in the dark, yet I bumped into nothing. I knew the layout of the house like the back of my hand, I knew where each piece of furniture was and how many steps I needed to take to avoid them.

I found the switchboard and did a mental count until I found the correct switch. I flicked it on… but no lights came on. With a frown, I flicked it off and then on again but to no avail. Power outage it was.

I walked from room to room looking for my family and found them nowhere. They couldn't have left me alone in the house and gone somewhere, they never let me stay alone at home since my diagnosis. Yet none of them were home.

I made my way to the fridge to see if there was something to eat. I eat when I get nervous or depressed, a bad habit I developed in my High School days. I found the fridge empty and warmth coming from inside, not cold. I shut it quickly with a frown. How long had the power been gone for all the cold to have disappeared? And why was the fridge empty? With how much mom and my sister liked to cook, the fridge was never empty. I tried the biscuit jars in the kitchen cabinets, but those too were empty. Nervous and frowning I made my way to my room.

I froze at the door.

There was someone inside.

Or something.

A figure sat on my bed, hunched over what I could make out was a book. It was tall and none of its physical features were obvious. Except for the frayed wings on its back.

"You have quite a collection of books, I must say."

Its voice was perfectly human, if not a little deeper than normal. Then again, there were plenty of humans who had deep voices. But none of them had frayed wings on their backs.

"Please, have a seat."

It was motioning to the spot beside it, but that was the last place I wanted to sit. I didn't know what that thing was or what it wanted.

Yet there was a certain feeling of calm about it, about the way it sat and read the book, about the way its wings seemed to gently sway as if a gentle breeze was passing through.

In the end, I did sit.

Except I chose to sit on the chair at my desk, not on the bed beside it.

"That was a little rude."

"I don't know you."

"Fair enough."

For a moment it did not speak, simply read its book in silence. Which left me in an uncomfortable situation of leg bouncing and nervously chewing the inside of my cheeks.

Eventually, I lost my patience.

"Would you care to explain who you are?"

The sound of the book snapping shut echoed.

The thing looked up.

I felt my words die.

The thing was wearing a hood, but there was nothing under it. It was like I was looking into a starless dark night. It sat straighter and I found myself staring up at it. I was not by any means short and it was not like I was the only one sitting down. It still towered over me and a renewed sense of fear and anxiety washed over me.

"There is no easy way to say this, but you are dead."

The sense of fear and anxiety was muted.

"What?" I blurted out the first reactionary word that came to mind. "What do you mean I'm dead? I just took a longer-than-planned nap!"

"Look around you. Where do you think you are?"

"In my room? In my house?"

"Are you?"

It was the tone in which it asked that made me sit straighter and take a better look at my room.

It was my room. Every piece of furniture, every little trinket, every little thing was familiar to me as my own name. Yet… yet why did it suddenly feel wrong?

The desk seemed larger than it should be, the chair I sat on smaller. The bed was distorted, and the edges of the cage were sharp. The wardrobe looked old, the floors faded and the window was an opening in the just as faded as the ground wall. It was all familiar, yet it was all wrong.

"What is this" I whispered in disbelief. "It's all a dream, isn't it? I'm just dreaming. Is this what sleep paralysis feels like? Are you my sleep paralysis demon?"

"No. You know what I am."

"Fuck no!" I snapped, surprising myself at my tone. "You're not him! You can't be him! It's not my time yet. I just took a nap! I promised my bird that id' play with him! I promised my mom that I'd help her with dinner. I promised Nina that I'd help her with her homework and I promised Naomi that I'd help her with that guy she's dating! I am not dead!"

My voice echoed, and the thing simply looked at me.

Or I assumed he was doing so.

"My boy…"

"No! I'm not dead. I'm gonna pinch myself and I will wake up right now!"

I felt nothing from the pinch, nor did the world around me vanish.

I screwed my eyes shut, "this is just a dream. You're going to wake up now" I whispered to myself. It was a thing I did in every nightmare I had, something that forced me to wake up.

But when I opened my eyes I was staring at the winged thing.

Suddenly I was no longer feeling that sense of anger inside.

Was I truly… dead?

"I-" I swallowed. "Please, just send me back for a day! Just so I can have a proper goodbye."

"It doesn't work like that, my boy."

"Please! You're fucking death! You make the rules of how all this fucking works!"

"I'm afraid I do not. Nor can I bend these rules."

"Please" I shot from my chair and fell to his feet. "Just one day! Please!"

"I'm sorry."

I wanted to sob.

I sobbed.

I cried, tears fell from my eyes onto the faded floor. I don't know how long I was at his feet, practically bowing to him while I cried. Nor did I care about how long I was there. I was dead, what did it matter?

I was dead…

"Stand."

The voice was deep but gentle.

I wiped my eyes and stood.

"Souls of the dead linger for a while after they die" the thing… Death told me. "You will too, but when the time comes I will-"

"No" I shook my head. "If you are taking me then take me now! The last thing I want is to stay here in the dark. Or worse… end up seeing my own funeral."

My funeral… the thought made me want to laugh. I never thought I'd be thinking about my own funeral. How many people would come anyway? How many of my friends from school and uni that I still talked to would show up? How many of my family would?

"Are you certain?"

"I am. Take me."

Death raised a hand and placed it on my head. Death's touch was… oddly warm.