oneirism

my roommate is death?

-Expert from a story I will never write.

"So, I saw your ad in the paper about wanting a roommate? Well, I'm willing to accept and yes I will pay half of the rent.
But, I'd like to warn you that I am in fact, death. As in Death with a capital D "

Either this was a weird joke or I'm still hallucinating from the lack of sleep because this guy who doesn't look a day over 20, wearing full black and holding what seems to be a folded up scythe was responding to an ad at 3 am in the morning.

" Look, it's the middle of the night. If you're serious then alright, the room is yours. I'd just like to go to bed now." I mumbled stifling a yawn.

He kept fidgeting like he had something to say. What did this gangly tall goth child want ? Spit it out already I need sleep.

" Yes ?" I asked.

" I already brought my stuff, may I come in?"

Was this guy serious? I honestly couldn't be bothered to even try and shoo him away.

"Yeah sure, just make yourself comfortable. No offense but I'm going to bed now."

I was halfway to dragging myself to my room when the baby goth suddenly piped up.

" Well, I'd like to tell you that my job is very spontaneous and can occur at any time. So I'm really sorry if I ended up disturbing you at ungodly hours. But duty calls y'know ? People just die at the most inconvenient of times." He sighed dramatically before plopping onto the sofa.

How long was he going to keep this up?

" One more thing, now that I'm living here, I made you immortal. Can't have my roommate dying on me now can I ?" he said with a light chuckle.

Nope, can't deal with this right now, I'm going to sleep.

"Look dude cut the jokes. I'm dead tired. I'm fine if you stay here but you really gotta drop the whole being dea- "

I felt something dripping down my chest so I look down, there was red spreading across my favorite light grey t-shirt, and a knife was in the middle of my chest. The dude's hand was still outstretched from the throw when I looked up. The f**k man.