Death (bringer of darkness, deliverer of souls, destroyer of life) to be continued.. possibly

Death, bringer of darkness, deliverer of souls, destroyer of life, looked in the mirror and sighed. It was Christmas day, and you’d think after all the souls he’d been collecting recently he should get a day off. But no, everyone had to keep getting drunk, and dying; getting hit by cars, and dying; falling over, and dying; getting hit by cocunuts, and dying. Some people just died for no reason. It was infuriating.

The truth was, Death (bringer of darkness, deliverer of souls, destroyer of life) hadn’t had a holiday in 3.7 billion years when he burst into existence. If he belived in a higher power, like many of the mortals did, he would probably file a complaint; as it stood there was no-one, and it was Deaths belief that the world had just appeared in some freak accident, and thus has he appeared too. Colatoral damage.

Today his infuriatingly punctual, cosmic list had 165,000 names on. Its funny that more people die on holidays; its mostly because of drunk driving or fights, but last year there were a few cases of freak Christmas tree accidents, which was fun.

Since he couldn’t pause people dying (which Death thought was a bit ridiculous, since he was Death and all), he paused time so he could decide on todays Reaping outfit.

He was wearing his favorite outfit; brown skin, blue eyes, pink skirt, fishnet tights, a band tshirt from a band that didn’t exist (Death doesn’t really live in a particular timezone). He wore a band of daisys on his cropped black hair, but now he takes them off and watches them wither in his hands. Normally he enjoys the look on mortals faces as he took his black cloak off, bowing low, to reveal this form (mysoginistic bankers were always the funniest), but now he just wasn’t in the mood for it.

He blinked, and when he opened his eyes he was tall, slim, white, with a grey suit and grey eyes. ‘hello. you are dead. welcome to the after life’ he mutters to the mirror, and his voice is subtibly dreary enough, so he shakes the battered pocket watch and watches the second hand slowly start ticking, gathering speed. He sighs and steps into the void, which will take him to work.