A Conversation With Death

Trifecta had a fun prompt this week:

This week's word is:

DEATH
1a : a permanent cessation of all vital functions : the end of life
  b : an instance of dying <a disease causing many deaths>
2a : the cause or occasion of loss of life <drinking was the death of him>
  b : a cause of ruin <the slander that was death to my character — Wilkie Collins>
3 capitalized : the destroyer of life represented usually as a skeleton with a scythe

Mwahahaha.  Have fun.

Please remember:

• Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.

• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.

• The word itself needs to be included in your response.

• You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above. 

• Only one entry per writer.

The first part of this story started with a response to a Write on Edge prompt that can be found here.

Please enjoy!

Jonathan blinked and found himself standing in a bizarre cave.  The walls seemed to shift and bend in ways he couldn’t quite follow.  The longer he stared at them the worse it got. 

“So.  You’re the next lucky contestant,” a bass voice echoed out of the darkness.

“Who’s there?” Jonathan spun around several times.

“You need to pay back your sins, right?  The Grim Reaper sent you here?” the rock grinding voice came from a different direction.

“How do you know what’s going on?  I’m crazy, I know it.”

“No.  You’re dead.  I should know.”

“What?”

A sigh sounding more like a gentle earthquake filled the M.C. Escher-esque cavern, “I hate repeating myself.  You’re dead.  I know this because I’m Death.  I decide who lives and dies and when.”

“Isn’t that the Grim Reaper’s job?” Jonathan scratched his head.

“No.  Common misconception.  He harvests souls.  I deal in lives.”

Jonathan whimpered.

“He sent you to me to give you one chance to fix your wrongs, right?”

“I guess,” Jonathan’s voice quavered a little on the second word.

“Well, then.  Back you go.  You have thirty-three years to fix your screw-ups.  If you don’t, I have to come get you again.  But, remember.  You’re not really alive again.  And if you try to tell anyone about what’s going on, they won’t believe you.”

“No kidding,” Jonathan mumbled under his breath before answering aloud, “How do I fix my screw-ups?”

“Do I look like your counselor?  I’m not, just in case you missed it.”

The cave filled with black mist.  The walls began to move and twist even more.  As his consciousness faded 

Jonathan heard one last thing from the voice calling itself Death.

“This outcome determines whether you make it into paradise or not.  Remember that as well,” then softer, “I hate it when the Grim Reaper does this to me.  I go through the effort to kill someone and he turns around and undoes it on me the minute my back is turned.”

Write On Edge Prompt: Paying Back What You Owe

This week's prompt puzzled me at first.  Then this idea came.  It's a little different from what I ususally write so I hope you enjoy it.  As always, feel free to, kindly, let me know what you think.

This week, write a fiction or creative non-fiction piece about a time one of your main characters finds himself or herself paying back a debt–financial or otherwise.

You have 500 words, so use them wisely, and we’ll see you this Friday to link up.

He looked around but nothing was familiar.  He couldn’t remember how he got here.

“Hello!” his voice echoed into the inky blackness, “Anyone there?  Please help me!”

A burst of rustling came from behind him.  He spun around looking for the source of the noise, his heart pounding.  He didn’t see anything.  The sound repeated behind him again.  He turned again trying to locate it.  When the noise happened for the third time, he froze, waiting to see what would be next.

“Jonathan Davis.  I have been waiting for you,” a sibilant bass whispered inches from his ear.

He jumped, turning again to see nothing but the pervasive blackness, “Damn it!  Who are you?  Let
me see you!”

“This is fascinating.  You are all alike.  You insist on having a visual construct,” the voice observed,

“Since we will get nowhere until you are satisfied, look upon this for I do not think you would appreciate my true form.”

An even darker shape materialized in front of Jonathan.  It was somewhat humanoid but the proportions appeared slightly off.

“Where am I?”

“Limbo.”

“What?  How did I get here?  What’s going on?” Jonathan struggled to breathe.

“You are dying.”

Jonathan felt as if he’d been sucker punched.  He couldn’t seem to get enough air and his head kept spinning.  He sat down hard.

The shape sighed again, sounding like a giant steam engine, “Let me answer a few of the questions your insignificant brain is trying to process.  Yes, you are dying.  No, you do not remember what happened and will not for a while.  Who am I?  I have many names.  Some have called me Hades, others Santa Muerte, yet others Izanami.”

“You’re the Grim Reaper?” Jonathan coughed.

“Yes.”

“But I’m not ready to die!  I have a trip next month.  I’m getting promoted at the firm!”

“It does not matter.  You are dying.”

The specter watched as Jonathan struggled to grasp what had happened to him.  Several minutes later, Jonathan stood up and visibly squared his shoulders.

“So what happens now?  Is this where I stay forever?”

“No.  You must face your accounting.”

“An accounting of what?”

“Your life.  The scales of justice must balance or you will be required to pay back your wrongs.”

The shadowed figure turned and gestured.  Jonathan’s life began to replay in the mist where the Fade pointed.  Jonathan noticed a second image of an old fashioned pan scale near the first.  He couldn’t tell which side was which, but there was a distinct tilt.  Jonathan looked back at the image of his life just in time to see it disappear.  The scales were still uneven.

The figure of Death turned to him, “Your life was out of balance.  You must repay your debts to preserve that balance.”

“How do I do that?  What happens if I don’t?”

“You have time equal to the length of your life to redress your wrongs.  If you fail, you will be condemned to Hell.”

Everything faded into darkness.