Grace

"Where's Charon?"

"Guess." Replied Anubis, without looking up from his paperwork. His corner office was magnificently appointed, but the grandeur was marred by his ill mood and the piles of paperwork that had overflowed from his inbox, across his desk and even on to the two comfortable chairs across from him. His fountain pen ran out and he tossed it aside, pulling a cheap Bic disposable from the canopic jar on his desk and sighing at the injustice of it all.

"Don't tell me the Baron got him to-"

"Go on one of his 'adventures' again? Indeed." Anubis growled. "And now my office is short two staff, and everything's backed up. Again." He snorted, and tossed the cheap pen down on the table angrily. The canid-headed Egyptian god leaned back, and pushed his glasses up onto his forehead so he could rub his eyes.

"I'm terribly sorry to add to your workload, but..."

"Death?" Anubis let his glasses drop back as his eyes went wide. "I didn't realize! I'm so sorry!" He lept up from his chair, and made his way around the desk to the door where the black bulk of Death stood. The two shook hands heartily. Anubis smiled widely, exposing his razor sharp teeth. Death politely returned the gesture. Anubis invited him in with a gesture. "What brings you to my humble office?"

"Well, I came to see Charon but he wasn't in his cubicle, so I thought you might know-"

"Yes of course, of course! So sorry about him. I'll talk to him. To both of them. I might move Samedi to another cubicle." Anubis made his way back to his desk, and slumped into his chair. He indicated to Death to take a seat across from him, but Death shook his head and instead fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Normally I'd relish the chance to spend a little more time on a case, but..." Death squinted out the window at the setting sun. "Perhaps I can implore you to do me a personal favour?" and he stepped slightly to the side to reveal Mrs. O'leary. She squinted through her thick glasses at the scene laid out before her.

"My goodness!" She exclaimed under her breath upon seeing Anubis. She crossed herself quickly.

"Not to worry, he's an..." Death swallowed. "Old friend." Mrs. O'leary looked up at Death sceptically.

"Mrs.... hmmm... don't tell me..... O'leary?" Anubis asked, exploratorially.

"Yes, that's me..." she replied, slightly concerned that the dog headed man knew her name. But, Death had been honest this far, so she tried to trust in him.

"I knew it! Please, please, come have a seat." Anubis got up and cleaned the papers off of one of the chairs hurriedly. "So sorry for the delays, ma'am. I assure you, things usually run so much smoother here." He held the chair out for her patiently.

Mrs. O'leary carefully made her way over, and with one last glance to Death for reassurance, she sat. Anubis smiled in his most comforting manner to her. It was not tremendously comforting.

"Good luck, Grace." Death waved to the old woman as he made his way back out of the office.

"Thank you, Mr. Death." she waved back.

Death chuckled. "Please, please... just Death. No need to be so formal."

"Such a gentleman." she smiled, and watched him disappear down the hall, leaving her alone with the ancient god Anubis.

"He really is." Anubis agreed, shuffling some papers and moving them out of the way on his desk. He also retrieved his fountain pen from the floor, and went about refilling it. "Your papers are much too important for a cheap pen, Mrs. O'leary." He winked.

She blushed a little. Her eyes fell across the various items on his desk. Plenty of disorganized papers, most of which read "Phase 2" in some script or another. A few jars filled with office supplies (And perhaps a heart? Mrs. O'leary wanted to be shocked but found she had been simply too surprised this afternoon and decided she would be shocked about it later, when she could really appreciate the shock), a red stapler, a mug with something written in heiroglyphs and a big #1 on it, and a photograph in a nice golden frame. "May I?" She asked, indicating the picture.

Anubis was retrieving the forms for Mrs. O'leary's afterlife, but looked up at her comment. "Of course." he nodded.

She picked the image up. The frame was surprisingly light. It depicted a young girl, no more than eight, dressed in a soccer uniform. She was holding a trophy. Mrs. O'leary couldn't make out what it said.

"My daughter, Kebechet." Anubis announced, with pride in his voice. "She was the team's top scorer that year."

"What a darling." She replied honestly. She placed the photo back on the desk, and found herself quite relaxed now. "When was that?"

Anubis had begun filling out the basic information on the form. He looked up to the ceiling, and started counting on his fingers. "I think... about... four thousand years ago? Maybe four and a half. She was seven when the picture was taken."

And just like that Mrs. O'leary was a little uncomfortable again.

"Now, we shouldn't be here too long Mrs. O'leary, but I do have a few questions I need to ask you so we can get you set up with your afterlife. Is that okay?"

She nodded politely.

"Wonderful. Now..." Anubis paused, staring at the side of Mrs. O'leary's head. "Oh my."

"What? Is something wrong?" she put a hand up to her head instinctively, searching for the problem.

"Not at all, not at all. You just have a piece of straw stuck in your hair." Anubis tried to indicate on his own head where it was for her. It took her a few tries to pluck it out. She held it in front of her and giggled quietly, remembering.

"Oh heavens, I must have looked ridiculous."

"Not at all, I hardly noticed." Anubis shook his head.

Mrs. O'leary twirled the straw between her fingers, transfixed by the memories it held. She placed it gently on her lap. "I saw a Unicorn today." She announced, in that moment deciding that of all the things that had happened to her today, that was the the most important to her.

"Did he bring you in through the stables?" Anubis asked, shocked.

"He did. It was very sweet." Grace smiled to the god across from her. Anubis shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"I hope he didn't show you his horse."

The Pegasus Also Cheats

The mist slowly faded, an in its place was a stable.

It was a very nice stable. Well kept, and clearly very expensive. Top of the line tackle rested on the walls, all immaculately positioned and cared for. The floor was well swept. Everything was freshly painted. An expensive looking digital clock was inset into the wood above the swinging double doors at the far end.

Maurice took the scene in with some confusion. He looked behind himself, and his gaze was met with a large barn door on well-oiled hinges. He squinted at it grumpily. He had just walked through that door.

Or rather, he walked through the space that the door now occupies. Only it hadn't when he'd walked through it.

This troubled Maurice.

A more troubling thought wedged itself in Maurice. He looked up at the black bulk of his travelling companion.

"Please tell me the afterlife is not a stable." he begged.

Death chuckled quietly. "No, Maurice. Not this afterlife, leastaways." he shrugged and began slowly walking down the stable towards the double door.

Maurice breathed a sigh of relief. Maurice had been a mechanic, and never a lover of horses. He moved to keep up with Death.

"That is the spot where I leave you, I'm afraid." Death nodded slightly towards the doors. Maurice tried to check the clock above them, but it refused to be read. He frowned.

"On some farm?" Maurice raised an eyebrow.

"Probably not."

The two fell silent, and Maurice found himself looking into the pens as they passed by. The first held the most stunning example of a Horse he had ever seen. A capital H Horse. Even Maurice had to stop and admire how perfect a Horse it was.

But not for long. He shook his head, and hurried to catch up to Death who was moving with a bored sense of purpose towards the end of the hall.

As he passed by further pens Maurice quickly forgot the Horse from the first. The second contained a group of strange goats, and the one after that had a sleeping Pegasus. Maurice furrowed his brow, but did not stop. The Unicorn did give him pause, and he cleared his throat to attract the attention of Death.

"Hmm? Oh, him. Yes, very beautiful." Death turned to see what had caught his charges attention. "Cheats at poker." He nodded at the pen. The unicorn snorted angrily at Death, who shrugged, uncaring, in return.

"You played poker with a horse?"

"A Unicorn. And don't let him hear you call him that."

The lights of one of the final pens began to flicker. Maurice thought it was odd that the afterlife had a poor power network, but then remembered this wasn't the afterlife. It was something... else.

"She heard my voice and now she's excited." Death smiled, striding towards the flickering stable. He pulled a shiny apple out of his cloak as the lights extinguished completely.

Curious, Maurice tilted his head and followed. He moved to the far wall, trying to get a better view inside the dark pen. Death put his hand on the half-wall, and held up the apple as a treat. The light didn't simply end at the edge of the stable, it was consumed by it. Shadows formed a horrible veil there. Looking into it hurt his eyes, like they were being consumed by the darkness as they tried to pierce it.

"Oho, you're hungry today hmm? Are they not feeding you enough?" Death pulled his hand back out of the shadows, and it held a perfectly cored apple. He tossed it to the floor, and produced a second. "Don't worry, I'm here for you old friend."

There was a snort from the enclosure, accompanied by a flash of flame. Maurice stepped closer, to investigate. He regretted it.

When he approached, it was as though the veil lifted, and he could see into the darkness clearly. What was inside was, and was not, a horse. A dark steed composed of fire and ichor, a thousand legs tangled in an infinity below and a burning mane that screamed in his head. Its dripping eyes bored into his mind and flayed his soul before him, dragging his existence behind it at a thousand miles an hour as they stood motionless in the shining darkness. He crumbled to his knees and fell away from the shining, grasping coat that tugged at his gut.

Only when he had crawled, rolled, and struggled back out of the realm of darkness that the Thing in the pen made was he able to scream. He hurt, in the way that only a lifetime of pain can hurt. His blood was needles of acid. His brain was pressing against his skull ready to pop. His gut writhed with barbed serpents. But none of this did he notice. He was too busy trying to hold together the shredded remains of his soul. He stared at his shaking hands and watched his essence drip through his fingers, horrified.

Death smirked, and bent down next to the shaking Maurice. He placed a skeletal hand on the man's shaking shoulder, and the shaking stopped. Maurice breathed in sharply, and found himself sitting on the floor.

He cocked his head. He was looking up at Death, crouched before him. He looked down the stable hall.

The last thing he remembered was talking about a Unicorn. Had he fallen?

"You should be honoured." Death intoned warmly. "She likes you." He jerked his head over his shoulder to the black enclosure.

The Blue Sky

In the Ur-times, before Grass learned to Grow and before Lightning Bug learned to Glow, there was Blue.

Blue was the youngest of ten billion children of Light, and was often forgotten about. This did not bother Blue, because it gave her time to learn. Blue loved to watch the other colours as they swirled and danced around each other, leaving impressions of themselves on things. She giggled merrily when Green tripped and smeared herself all over Grass. Grass was upset at first, but decided he liked the colour and that he would keep it.

She so enjoyed watching the other colours, and the curious Things that they would run into all day an night, that she was often missing for days at a time. She would climb atop a Rock, or into the beards and hair of Trees while they argued back and forth, and watch as the world blossomed around her in a growing symphony.

The higher Blue climbed, the more she could see with her keen eyes. And so she climbed higher and higher each day. She climbed to the tallest tree, and was unsatisfied (much to Redwood's dismay). She climbed to the top of the bluffs, but still this was not enough. She climbed, with his permission and a promise to be very careful, to the top of Mountain. And as she stood at the summit of his highest peak she sighed.

For it was not high enough.

She could see the Forest, and the Plains, the Ocean and the Beach. She could see all the siblings she had in all these wonderful places, she could see Ferret and Fox, Joy and The Numbness of Cold. She could see so much. But she knew there was more.

Sky was passing overhead at just that time and nearly knocked her off the head of Mountain.

"I am terribly sorry, Blue. I did not expect to see you up so high." He said, picking her up and dusting her off.

Blue smiled back. And that smile changed, with a clever thought, into a sly grin.

"Not to worry Sky, I am fine. How are you?"

"I am well, though very busy. So much to keep track of." And she saw that Sky had the same keen eyes as her.

"Of course, of course. If only you had some help." She ventured.

"If only." Said Sky, already craning his head to keep count of all the Things in the Plains below.

"I wonder, Sky," She said, "Have you ever considered being Blue?"

Sky stopped counting for a moment, and cocked his head. Sky had never been a colour before. And as he looked down at all the colours mixing and playing on the ground below, far away from Sky, he could not think of a more wonderful colour than Blue.

So Sky smiled at Blue, and nodded.

"I had not, but I cannot imagine a better Colour."

So Blue held out her hand, and Sky took it and together they ascended up and up and up. And Blue could see the whole world laid out before her. And she loved it very very much.

And Mountain was profoundly relieved to not have two Things standing on his head anymore.

The Sadness

It was not, in any way, her fault. The car had experienced a freak fault, and skidded out into a two-decade old tree that brought it to an abrupt halt. She had done everything in her power to prevent the crash. The impact had been uncharacteristically cruel. All three occupants of the vehicle had died instantly.

The odds were so astronomically bad that Death had first thought the situation reeked of divine influence. Zeus or Shiva, perhaps. But he could turn up no evidence on his inspection, so had to carry on.

He made a mental note to alert IA, and hoped they did their job this time.

Death stood now a respectful distance from the wreck, waiting patiently for the attention of the driver.

She was transfixed by the crumpled wreck before her, and the three bodies inside. She knelt, unmoving, staring in at the children in the back seat.

There were no tears. She was well beyond them, Death knew. It was not uncharacteristic. He wanted to reach out and provide some comfort, but he was severely limited on what he could tell her and his hand was skeletal. Not often overly comforting to the recently dead.

Slowly, she turned her head to see him.  Her lips worked out a sound with great effort.

"Why?"

Death stood motionless. He considered the question with care. Considered the platitudes humans share with each other in this situation. Considered the truth, as he knew it, incomplete and untrustworthy as it was. He settled on the only thing he could think that was not a complete lie, and not completely horrible.

He stepped forward, and took a knee beside her. Even so, he towered high above her.

"It is life." He shrugged, helplessly. It was not comforting, it was not helpful. But it was as close to the truth as he could manage.

The least he could do for her.

She was not satisfied.

The two of them stared at the car in silence, and time flowed around them. Death would not rush her.

People came. The bodies disappeared, the car vanished. The broken tree was removed. The grass grew, shrank, grew again.

Death and the woman sat.

Occasionally, the man would appear in the window and look down at the two of them mournfully.

Finally, she spoke. Her voice was cracked and dry.

"I would like to leave." She said, without looking at Death. He nodded in response, and held out his bony hand.

She did not look to it, but put her hand in its cold fingers. Death tried to take her away from the great sadness.

But she brought the Sadness with her, and Death realized that there was no escape from this Sadness. His eyes darkened, and he squared his shoulders to heft the load of her Sadness on to his.

He set his jaw, and resolved to have words with the Gods.

What Is Best

In the Ur-times, before Cinnamon found its Spice and before Blade learned its point, the Trees were talking.

"Sister Willow, what is best?"

"Brother Beech, letting long roots drink deep from the foundations of the world is best. Surely you know this." She creaked slowly.

Brother Beech swayed disagreeingly in the wind.

"No, no. To block the sun, and make the ground dark and covered in your leaves, this is best." Brother Beech shifted his swayings and nodded to himself.

"Harrumph." Came the low grumble from Brother Oak. "You youths are fools." it continued. "To grow, and be grand and strong, these are what is best."

Sister Redwood giggled at this, and her branches shuddered with the laughter. "You think yourself strong, Brother Oak? Look at my tremendous height, and ask yourself if you have the strength to grow this far from the ground." Her branches smiled wrly down at her siblings, and she cast her gaze off into the distance, already moving away from the distant conversation.

Brother Oak grunted grumpily.

The Cedar Twins had thus far been quiet, but one of them broke their silence to gain the attention of their siblings.

"Um."

The Trees continued to bicker back and forth, not having noticed the Cedar's interjection.

So Cedar waited. And waited. And waited. Until it could wait no more.

"Um." It said again, during a lull in the conversation. The rest of the trees stopped, and turned to the quiet tree. The Twins did not say much, and they were very young. The Trees looked down at the Cedar Twin that spoke, and waited expectantly.

"Yes, Tree?" Asked Beech at last.

"My brother Cedar felt that what was best in life was to help others. By being shade like Brother Beech or by holding Earth together like Sister Willow. Or by giving of oneself so that others might be happy." The little Tree said.

The Trees thought about this for some time. They were pleased by the notion. Sister Redwood looked down at the congregation below her and shook her leaves confusedly.

"Where is your twin, Brother Cedar?" She asked.

Brother Cedar looked at the stump where his twin had sat, and smiled.

"He is enjoying what is best in life." He said, and looked into the distance at a brand new, beautiful Cedar plank home.

The Flood

Death pulled the keys to his little country home out of his robes, and opened his door.

It squeaked.

He glared at the hinges. He had just oiled them. He opened and closed the door a few times, listening to the squeak.

He sighed and closed the door.

Death rested his enormous scythe on the hat rack, and pulled back his hood to reveal his pearl white skull. He stared for a moment at the scythe.

Today he had taken a young man from his family. The man had died quite peacefully, surrounded by his loved ones. They wept as he was taken away to whatever awaits him.

The man had been very understanding, and very amiable.

Death's bony hand clenched into a fist.

He shouldn't have had to be.

His fingers relaxed and he took a deep breath, exhaled as a stream of cold air. He tried to exhale the memory.

It almost worked.

Death cast another angry glance over his shoulder at the hinges of his front door, and made his way to the kitchen.

He carefully selected his ingredients from the refrigerator, laying them out on the counter just so. And with practiced precision he crafted himself a fine sandwich. Just as he was putting the last ingredient away, the phone rang.

His head snapped up, and his eyes locked on the ancient black phone in the corner of the kitchen. The two brass bells on the wall unit rang sharply, pulsing again and again. He glared at the brass trimmed handle, willing it to stop.

But it didn't.

It would never stop.

There was always another job.

Death finally arose, and closed his refrigerator. He collected his sandwich and moved to the phone, defeated. A bony hand reached out, but paused before reaching the handle.

He remembered his day.

He closed his hand, but did not let it fall.

He had had a long day.

His hand fell to his side, and he stepped past the ringing black phone into the living room. The bells clanged sharply over and over. He placed his sandwich on the little side table adjacent to his favourite chair. He stepped to the bookshelf, and ran his hand along a stack of thin cardboard containers.

Something stopped his hand, and he slipped his bone fingers into the stack, and pulled out one sleeve in particular. He held it up and inspected it, nodding.

He slid the record out of its holder, and placed it gingerly onto his record player. It began to play, and he picked up his headphones.

Death sat in his red leather chair, trying to adjust his headphones to fit on his skull. They had fit last time, so they should fit this time he thought to himself. But at the same time he knew that that never seemed to be true.

After a bit of fidgeting, he got them to sit right, and the music flowed into him like a river into a drought. He closed the black pits that were his eyes, and let the sound flood out the memories, and the bells of the phone.

Death enjoyed his sandwich, and his music, and letting the phone ring and ring and ring.

A Thousand Thousand

"I fell." Dan told the massive shape of Death, towering above him.

"I know." Death nodded slowly.

Dan picked himself up and dusted himself off. He looked up at the cliff face that he had just tumbled down, and rested his eyes on the body that he left behind.

"A shame." he sighed. "I had a date for Friday."

"A shame." Death nodded in agreement.

The two of them stood surveying the scene for a time.

"You know it's not what I expected." Dan finally said, placing his hands on his hips.

Death liked this part.

"I was led to believe there would be a bright light, a tunnel, voices, the whole deal." Dan waved his hands about, dramatically. "But it's sort of just... you." He shrugged.

"Terribly sorry to dissappoint." Death shrugged back.

"Oh, goodness no. Sorry, that's not what I meant." Dan waved his arms in denial. "It's quite nice. Relaxing. I was just told that the experience would be a bit more... pyrotechnic."

"And who told you that?" Death asked, raising what would have been his eyebrows were his face not a skull.

"Hm. People who... weren't dead after all, I suppose." Dan smiled.

Death retuned the smile, and shrugged.

"Well, I think..." Dan started. "I think..." He continued, and another realization dawned on him mid sentence. "I think you've heard this speech before, haven't you?"

Death did not at first reply.

"You've heard a hundred, a thousand people have the exact same complaint, the exact same story, haven't you?" And Dan was mortified at how bored Death must be of... people.

Death plucked some imaginary cat hair of his scythe, absent mindedly, before finally replying.

"Yes. A thousand thousand times."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bore you." Dan was earnestly upset. "It's just... new to me, I suppose."

Death cocked his head. He looked down at his charge, without a hint of condescension.

"The day I tire of hearing what people have to tell me," He intoned, "Is the day I will begin my well-deserved retirement."

He looked up into Death's gaze, slightly befuddled.

"You really want to hear what I have to say?"

Death nodded.

"Even though not a single thing is likely to be new."

Death again nodded his cowled head.

"Oh." Daniel said, surprised.

Death turned away towards their destination, and held out a bony hand.

"Now... you were going to tell me about your lovely dog Max."

He had not. But still, Daniel smiled with the joy of youth, and told Death all about how he had had the absolute best childhood pet.

And Death liked that story very much.

Rehab

Armin looked up in horror at himself, as he, the other he, raised the pistol to his face.  Armin stared down the barrel of the gun with panicked fear. He knew what happened next. He rembered.

But there was more to his fear. A rich milieux of terrors swept about in his mind. His wife, how would she survive? Their child, who would be there to help raise it with him gone? His family, his friends, all cut off from him in an instant.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the memory of silence caught in his throat and he found he could not. He could only gaze into the black hole that was the barrel of a pistol held in the other him's hand.

"Sorry mate. Nothing personal." He said. The other he. The he that he used to be. And just as Armin remembered, he pulled the trigger while he said one final word.

"Business."

And there was a roar, and a flash, and an instant pain, and everything that he had worked for and loved was gone in an instant.

When he opened his eyes he was back in the room. The white room, with the table and two chairs. He was sitting in one of them when he remembered that he never had a wife. Or a child.

Or many friends, for that matter.

And it dawned on him. Not his friends. Not his wife.

HIS friends. HIS wife. The man that he had killed, in cold blood, eight years ago. Without a thought. Without a care. Because it wasn't personal.

It was just business.

But it had been personal to him.

Lucifer, the Morningstar, appeared before Armin with ruined wings and a sad expression. He took a seat quietly.

"Incarceration is not punishment. It is a rehabilitation." He placed a clipboard gently on the table. "You are here to learn. To see why you did what you did, and to see how it hurt. How it hurt those around you. How it hurt yourself."

Armin wanted to speak, to protest. To shout that it was all a dream. But even he could see it was too vivid. To real.

Too deserved.

"There is no fast track here, Armin. No shortcuts. When you are ready, you will know. You will see. And we will wish you well." Lucifer smiled at him a patient smile. Grandfatherly, was the word that came to Armin.

"But that's not today." And he rose from his chair,tattered wings trailing as he made for the door. As he left, Lucifer turned once more and nodded knowingly to Armin.

"Good luck."

And he closed the door, and Armin was elsewhen, staring down a different barrel.

Language

There was a young woman that Death went to meet once. She had just passed away unexpectedly, but unlike many people she was pleased to see Death.

"Oh, you've come!" She said excitedly, which caught Death somewhat off guard.

"I have." He replied, letting the ancient timbre of his voice rumble the very walls with authority.

"So there is an afterlife." She smiled excitedly.

Death let this hang in the air for a moment, looking down at her with the black pits of his skull, letting his bone fingers tense and relax on the scythe.

"Perhaps there is only me." He rumbled.

She mulled this around in her head for a moment, before deciding.

"No, I don't think so. I think you're here to take me to the real afterlife."

Death frowned at her. He wasn't so much upset with her, as perplexed. He'd encountered souls like this before, but... not often. And they always caught him off guard.

"What makes you say that." He asked as nonchalantly as he could.

She grinned coyly. "Because you left the door open. So, where are we going?" She hopped to her feet excitedly.

Death looked back. He had indeed left the door open. It wasn't often he had the luxury of leaving doors ajar, so he took it when he could. When there would be no-one around to notice. It saved a little time.

But not this time.

"I cannot say." He rumbled back.

"Oh." She replied, a little dissapointed. "Well, I appreciate you coming to get me nonetheless." She nodded surely.

Death cocked his head confusedly.

"Well, you didn't have to come." She explained. "I'm dead. I'm sure I have all the time in the world to find my way to the next. But you came all this way to make sure little old me made it safe and sound to the afterlife." She smiled politely.

Death scowled at her. She couldn't really tell. His face was a skull.

She continued to smile back.

Eventually, and much to his surprise, Death's scowl broke into a smile of his own. He offered his hand to her, and she took it without hesitation.

"Come on then, let's find out if you're right." He indicated to the open door with his scythe.

The two of them left hand in hand, and the infinite stretched out before them as they walked.

"You remind me of my Grandpa." She said, and as they walked she leaned her head against his arm lovingly.

And Death was very pleased by this. He placed his skeletal hand on hers while they strode into infinity.

"He was a big softie too." She continued. And then a smile crept across her face. "When he wasn't being scary as fu..."

"Language." Death cut her off, and she laughed as the world slipped away around them.

Restricted Items

Clarice hung upside down in the tree, her parachute lines tangled inextricably about her as she swung back and forth. The dappled light through the canopy was dazzling and beautiful, and almost enough to take her mind off the dreadful realization that she had just passed away.

She swung lazily back and forth, looking up past her feet to the shimmering sun as it worked its way through the many thick branches that had interrupted her trip to the earth. She could see the one in particular that had clipped her head and ended it all.

That branch was a jerk.

But through it all she found herself to be quite serene. Skydiving was not an entirely safe passtime, and she had always known this was a possibility. Everything was accounted for.

And besides, the rush had been worth it.

"Well, that's enough of that I think." She said, looking around for her patient companion.

"After you." Came the low rumbled reply from Death, who was busy enjoying the careful dance of a butterfly that had taken interest in his skeletal hand.

"Hm." Clarice grunted, still trapped by her parachute equipment. She wriggled for a moment more, before clearing her throat to gain Death's attention.

Startled, he shook his skull and looked up at her.

"If you wouldn't mind?" She did her best to indicate the ropes above her.

"Of course, of course." Death replied, apologetically. He swung his enormous scythe in a broad sweeping arc, slicing through the bonds as though they were butter, and she tumbled to the ground more gently than possible. Death helped her to her feet as the ropes fell away.

"Handy." She said, indicating the colossal tool.

"Oh, it has its uses." Death smiled to her, and offered his hand. She took it and they walked out of the forest.

"Any idea where I can get one?" She asked.