“Is he dead yet?” Death mocked.

Life sat on the porch, staring at a man and his daughter playing on the garden.

“You’re too early.” Life answered, though it knew why Death was there. “Far too early.”

“Am I?”

They stared at the man, who’s smile turned into a broken expression of pain, with every muscle of his red face hardening. His hand grabbing his chest.

“What’s the fellow’s name?” Death asked.

“Mike Dunford.”

“Dunford? I thought it was Done-for…”

The scream of the scared girl interrupted the wordplay. There was something more painful in children’s screams. To be wise enough to know something is wrong, but unprepared to deal with it in any way.

“He’s not going to die.” Life assured. “The girl is going to call an ambulance and they’ll save him.”

“Are you certain?”

The man expressed pain with each breath “Call your mother.”

“Wait” Said Death “that’s going to take more time than if she called the ambulance. He’ll be dead by then.”

“The mother can explain the heart attack much faster… it’s the- it is the right choice.”

The girl walked to the front door, but at 4 years-old she was still too short and weak to open the door.

“He’s dead.” Death stood up as if there was a clear winner in this battle.

“Mike!” Said the neighbour, looking at Mike's face down on the grass.

She instinctively called an ambulance and took the little girl inside. She called more neighbours too, each spouting random wrong and right decisions of what to do with Mike while they waited for help.

“You seem bored,” said Life. “Can I entertain you?”

Death looked around and locked eyes on a web. Zap movements from its victim.

“You know,” said Death. “There’s another Life and Death, just like us, fighting for the fate of that fly.” Death looked at the crowd putting and taking pillows from Mike’s feet and head. “The moment Life loses hope, Death will take that fly. Are you still hopeful?” Life gave no response. “I can feel every cell that dies within him, it’s so fast. Can you feel it, too?”

“I can feel something else.” The ambulance arrived.

***

“Too many cells died for him to ever have a normal life.” Said Death. “It’s sad, but more importantly, it’s true. It’s reality.”

The man was taken to a room in the hospital with doctors rapidly moving from several corners to treat him.

“Why can’t you?” Yelled life. “Why can’t you just leave this one? Why not others who take lives, why can’t you be fair?!”

“I am.” There was a pause. “I don’t pick others precisely because I am fair. I am the only being, the only thing that is completely indiscriminate. But for you, the fact that I'm not biased towards your view is what makes me ‘unfair’”.

Life had no answer.

The wife of the man came in with cheeks red of fear and black from eyeliner, trembling hands and a dead breath of cigarettes.

“I still have hope.” Said Life.

The wife approached a doctor who left the operation room, who seemed in a worry to be somewhere else. “Is he going to be ok?” The wife asked.

“I can’t say.” And he left.

“That’s never good,” said Death. “That one was just too scared to say the truth. Lost hope yet?”

“No,” Life said, but it wasn’t completely true. When Death is nearby, the desire for the best outcome is greater than the actual belief of it. Thoughts of the worst fate come to mind, in the hopes that we’ll be prepared when it happens. But we never are.

***

“Do you still have hope?” Death asked. They were all around Mike, his wife was looking down at the bed, hopeless. "Do you?"

Life was staring down on the floor, covering its ears. It shook its head.

“I need to hear you say it.” Death said.

“I’m not…” There was a long pause.

“’I’m not what?” Death insisted.

Life looked up at Death. “I’m not quitting yet!”

The hand of the man moved, soon after the eyes opened, and the ritual of crying began amongst them, with ‘I love yous’ being shared between them.

Life looked at Death. They sensed each other’s respectful dislike for each other.

“Goodbye.” Said Life. “I hope not to see you for a long time.”

“You won today.” Said Death with a simile hiding disappointment. “But remember, your victory, unlike mine, is only temporary.”

"Will you stop messing up the damn bed?" Death yelled at her brother.

"What are you talking about? I haven't slept in weeks," Life replied, rolling his black eyes.

Death slammed him with a pillow and tossed it back on the bed. She was meticulously cleaning, always trying to get things clean for the next guest. Life was always against the bed and breakfast. He had to greet people and lead them through the corridors and open doors and watch them opt for a different one, and blame him for being lost. Death couldn't do it. She always scared the guests despite being the most gentle, definitely more gentle than her brother. She'd rock babies to sleep, and guide old people to their resting places. Life envied her.

"I don't understand why we have to do this. I mean, we are endlessly helping people to rooms and watching them leave again. I just want to quit sometimes."

Death dropped the pillow she was fluffing. "Quit? You can't quit! What if things get bad again! I mean, war happens every day. People will need a place to stay and nice faces to help them along."

"But Death, it's so tiring. I just want to relax for a while."

"We can never relax. That door is always revolving, and every person who comes in deserves to see someone nice to them, even if they are awful and treat us like trash."

"I wish I could be you. You're always working no matter what."

"And I wish I could be you. You're always happy to throw the towel in, even if you shouldn't."

Life sat on the edge of the bed, and Death wrapped her arms around him. As long as they had each other, things would run smoothly, and now they knew.

Two women sit by a little table, two old chairs lied directly opposite each other. A delicate blonde occupies the first chair. Her hair is long and sleek, she is wearing a soft, white summer dress, it suits her. She looks like she could be 15. She’s not. She’s just as old as time and life itself , and that is exactly what she is.

She sits in a straight position while the woman in the other chair sits all spread out in hers. She seems to be strained, and at the same time, she doesn’t seem to be bothered with anything. Her black hair falls gently down her back and almost touches the floor as she swings on the chair. She wears long black pants, they are loose and look expensive as they hug her perfect curves. A white, spaghetti strap shirt surrounds her body as the light passes through it, reviling that there is nothing under the thin material. Her feet are bare, a pair of dangerously looking high heels lying on the ground. White fog lingers around them both.

You’re in a mood today.

Are you trying to tell me, that death doesn’t become me?

She gazes at the blonde and her stare falls down to her delicate gold sandals, she shakes her head.

You should wear something more mature.

This look suits me, yours is a bit aging.

I don’t look a day past 28.

Exactly.

She frowns again and sighs dramatically. She loosens her neck, moving it to the sides. It makes loud popping sounds.

I am younger than you by 23 hours.

And don’t you ever forget it.

I would have been much younger if the first Drosophila didn’t decide to die so fast.

So you are blaming your age and sour face on a common fruit fly, sister?

No, it’s a mere observation of the days done.

If you say so... Then why the long face?

I am so tired of people using us in their conversations.

That’s all? You do realize it’s just an expression?

People saying “it’s a matter of life and death” and puff, you know there will be more work today, Liv.

You’re over-reacting...

No, that’s me stating an opinion. Me over-reacting is a car accident on Maine Street. Me being dramatical is someone wanting to jump off the Brooklyn bridge when the CNN is rolling. Me being mad is a tsunami in the middle of the Pacific ocean... So please, don’t call me over dramatic when I am just stating my opinion.

Rough day?

Try rough century... Life and death my ass.

You want to add taxes to that statement?

Oh, just live long and prosper.

The blonde starts to giggle. The other woman frowns, she moves her legs up on the chair and close to her chest. Her toes moving slowly as she decides how to abuse her big sister.

What now? Why are you smiling like that?

I just heard someone in the White House say that phrase...

The dark hair beauty moans in pure torment.

Oh not him again... Does anyone even watch him?

The blonde giggles again.

Me, he appreciates.

Yes, and me he ignores.

Doesn’t everyone? It’s a job like any other.

She moves her legs on the edge of the table and runs her hand past the soft material of her Armani pants and rings her gold bracelets. Finally, she smiles with confidence.

True, job like any other...

.........................................................................................................................

Life boasts, "I am first, therefore I am best."

Death rebuts, "No. To have the final say is better, I attest."

Life pleads, "But life is beauty and connection. What you give is only lonely, lost reflection. Besides, life gives the soul that you simply take."

Death coolly states, "The soul can stay. They don’t care about it anyway. I take what they want the most. I take away the future, and with it, hope."

Death looked at Life with envy and hatred.

Life was beautiful.

She was the reason Death existed.

Life knew this.

She knew that without her,

There could be no Death.

But still, she admired Death.

She saw how he took care

Of the ones she couldn’t.

She knew some people didn’t want her.

Some people couldn’t resist

The temptation of Death.

Some people saw that Life wasn’t perfect.

Death couldn’t see Life’s flaws.

All he could see

Were the happy faces of the living

And the scared faces of the dead.

All he could hear were the sorrowful cries

Of those who only saw Death

As someone who had stripped them of happiness.

They didn’t see Death’s kindness.

They didn't see him wrap his arms

Around those who came to him willingly.

They didn’t see him cry every night

Because he knew he wasn’t as good as Life.

He knew the only ones who came to him willingly

Were the broken and the lost.

Life saw all this and more.

She decided to help Death.

She told him not to worry.

She told him that if it weren’t for him,

No one would appreciate Life.

If it weren’t for him, no one would help

The broken and lost.

Life dried Death’s tears.

She made him look her in the eyes

And told him of the great beauty she saw in him.

Death’s hatred melted away.

He realized his importance

In the balance of Nature.

And as the sun set,

Marking the end of another day,

Life and Death joined hands

And took in the beauty

Of the world they shared.

"Hey Death, do you think you can do me a favor and let me know when you are coming to take over? I really am a planner and if you don't mind giving me a date and time, I could put you on my calendar."

"Nice try Life. Do you really think you are the first one to ask this question? So let's get hypothetical here "MissIliketoplan." Say I tell you and the day I'm coming is tomorrow. You're gonna get all freaked out, start crying, gasping and snorting, calling everyone you want to say good-bye to, with snot dripping all over your iPhone. Is that a pretty picture?

Or

Say I tell you and I'm not coming for 70 years. You might think you've got all the time in the world, possibly changing the entire course of your life. I can just hear you; I'll read that book next week. I'll go on a diet next month. I'll have kids next year. I'll travel when I'm retired. Next thing you know you are dumb, fat, childless and boring! Get my point Life?"

"Whoa. Death. Relax. I thought we planners were intense. No wonder you are so final. Who could stand to be around you?"

Death

Life

***

How are you doing?

Just fine.

I'm doing great.

Did I ask?

Your eyes did.

...

Don't ignore me. We need each other.

Yep, balance.

It's not that simple.

Whatever you say.

Don't start. We could be friends.

No thanks.

We would be a great couple.

Sure.

I'm not joking.

Death is nothing more than an ending.

An ending that must come.

Nobody sees that.

I do.

Good for you.

Why are you so difficult?

Because I am supposed to be.

Well maybe you could try.

Try to what? Be better than life. Won't happen.

No, try to be a better being.

I am a great being. I serve my purpose.

But don't you want to be more.

Not really.

We could be more together.

Did I say I wanted to?

No, but...

No. I have to go work. I actually work, unlike you.

I watch over things...Bye!

...

Here in the middle

of November

night comes to the skies

early throwing it's shade

into the river, like a voice

in disguise I remember,

it's hard to walk a straight line

I've had thoughts

about a black dog

dying at the foot of my bed,

about cornerstones

I've found in the dark

with my bare feet

Forties of death

and no bearing,

acres of sadness,

the width of a breath

I've dreamed a lot

about my father

and the smell of his cigarettes

glowing like a lamp

in the window before me.

“Hey Dol, how were your numbers yesterday?” The Angel of Death seated himself at the tiny table for today’s meeting.

“You are quite guache, you know that Aod? No finesse.” Dol replied, sipping his espresso.

“And you are avoiding my question. That bad, huh?” Aod raised his hand to the waitress, indicating two more coffees.

Dol glared at him through slitted eyes for a moment and slid a very official looking report across the tabletop.

Aod let out a low whistle, “756,912,854 prayers for life yesterday. Save me, Save them, Save the children, that one is still cheating by the way, prayers for babies. Good numbers, but you still get to pay for coffee today old friend.” The Angel of Death handed over his own report.

“How do you have over a billion prayers for death?” Dol hissed. “HOW??!” The glass shattered in the windows all up and down the street at his inhuman shriek.

With a sigh and snap of his fingers Aod repaired the windows and wiped the memories of those in the area for the last thirty seconds.

“The perks of being an Angel.” Dol snarled, and settled back in his seat.

“Jealousy does not become you my friend.”

“Tell. Me. How. You. Do. It.” Dol demanded through gritted teeth.

Aod considered for a moment. “Well, it’s like this. I don’t do anything. Life and death are both selfish processes. Life is selfish because no one actually asks to born, someone else makes that selfish choice for you. Death is also selfish, but for those that are left behind. Death is an inevitability grief is a choice. People pray to die, to end their suffering, to end the suffering of others, but also out of malice and fear. In this world, malice is rampant, a disease of its own. So see, all I do sit back and wait. People are inherently selfish, but they are also inherently petty and self absorbed.”

“Thus your number being so much higher.”

“Too bad I can’t shake the bad reputation. I may be Angel of Death, but I am still an Angel.” He unfurled impressive shining white wings that were only visible to Dol.

“Show off.” Dol griped for possibly the millionth time, “At least people know your name. Angel of Death Angel of Death.” he mimicked.

“It’s okay Dol, someday people will know yours.” Aod consoled.

“Maybe today is that day.” Dol muttered, pushing his chair back and taking off his suit jacket.

“Dol, no. You can’t. Not here. Not ever. Dol! Stop! DOL!!”

But it was too late. Dol shed his human skin, revealing the demon underneath. His skin was strangely stretched, a bottomless blackness, pitted through with fist sized holes, burning embers visible inside. He gave off the stench of sulphur and once you looked into his cold eyes you couldn’t look away.

Aod facepalmed and dragged his hand through his hair. He had lost another one. This made 38 Demons of Life over the millenia. They just couldn’t stick it out. Maybe he should cool it with the wings?

“I AM THE DEMON OF LIFE” he roared.

“Shit.”

For may centuries there lived two powerful beings called Life and Death. Death was an elder being, a man dressed in black robes with a pale skull-like face, a face which humans believe to be the grim reaper. Life was a little golden girl, whom humans call an angel. But they were far more different than what the humans think.

Little Life pulls Death’s robes and smiled, “Hi, Death! Why do humans despise you? It’s not fair.”

“Fair means nothing to the humans,” replied Death, “But I do not mind.”

“But that’s mean! I wanted the humans to grow wise, not dumb!” said Little Life.

“They do not understand like you and I,” said Death. “Even after you’ve blessed them.”

“But they curse at me . . .” said Little Life as she sniffles softly. “Everybody hates me now, more than you. I don’t want people to hate me. What did I do wrong, Death?”

“Nothing, sweet child,” said Death as he smiles at Life. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Now won’t you smile for me?”

Little Life was still not convinved, but she smiles at Death anyways. Years have passed as Death meets Life again, but Life has grown into a young teen, as she watches infants being born. “Aw!!! Look, Death! Aren’t they so cute! They’re going to grow up into wonderful humans!”

”. . . .” Death watches, but he did not smile. “Some mothers die after giving birth. Some parents abandon their children. Some raise them cruelly. Some kill them. But even if the child lives he or she will grow up to become to a horrible monster still.”

“I’m sorry, Death,” said Young Life. “I know you have to take them away, but not all end up bad. Some start off bad, but then they learn and become good. That’s what I love about them.”

Death looks at Life with a blank expression and nodded, “Of course, you would love them. Even if they despise you?”

“Even if they scorn and curse my name I will always grace them with my love,” smiled Life. “Even if they are not grateful.”

Death saw sadness in Life, but he did not say a word. It was natural to love and hate in Life, just as you love and hate in Death. Another decade has passed while Young Life grows again into Lady Life. Death meets her again as they watch sick children live in the hospitals. Lady Life comforts a weeping child as she calls Fate to bring good news to the child’s family. Death watches another child, who was growing weaker and weaker, while the father cries. Lady Life joins Death and express sorrow. “Must you take this child away?”

“It is Fate’s orders,” said Death.

Lady Life saddens as she looks at the child and the father. She asked, “Do me a favor. Take the child to his mother for me.”

“Of course,” reply Death. “This father will hate you, you know?”

“I know,” smiled Lady Life sadly. “But I don’t mind.”

Death watches Life smile, but then he turns away and returns to work. Years and years have passed as Lady Life grows and becomes Elder Life, who rests near a hundred year old tree. Elder Life was a faint gold and grew long white hair while smiling happily at the world around her. Death meets her again as he kneels beside her.

She smiles at Death. “Greetings, old friend. Have you come to pick me up?”

“I have as always,” said Death. “Tell me, how has it been for you?”

“It was tough, and fun. Sad, but great. Painful, yet satisfying,” answered Elder Life. “And you?”

“Oh, just the usual,” said Death. “How strange. Death never ages and yet Life does. Isn’t that unfair?”

“I am never fair,” teased Elder Life with a chuckle. “I must meet my end just like my gifts. Promise me you’ll keep me safe.”

“I promise, old friend,” said Death as he watches Life fade away. Life always ends, and Death always cries. Death has taken his old friend once again and sobs for her while flowers bloom around him and the tree. The next day, Death visits the tree, along with Fate, Time, and many others, as they gather to meet New Life. A golden baby girl is born as she cries so innocently. Death approaches the New Life and holds her in his arms. “Hello, little one. Many people love you, even in the future, so won’t you smile for me?”

New Life smiles and giggles while Death smiles back with tears in his eyes just like their friends. Life isn’t immortal. She is just like her creations. Yet she was always smiling.

“I will always love you.”