The Life of Death #Wattys2016

Birds of Inconvenience

"I never thought Death would be a hot chick." Even in his bleakest moment, Barry's pervert eyes never quit, and were intently fixed on the curves of Madeline's backside, barely visible through her flowing, inky robes.

Madeline groaned with disgust. "You really are a sleazy jackass, aren't you? The world gained a lot from your loss."

It has never been uncommon for some to imagine Death as a woman--either a stoic, matronly type, or, in recent years, a plucky Goth girl. While Madeline could and would never be referred to as plucky, she did appreciate someone with a fresh approach instead of the same old skeleton or skinny old man routine. "Anyway, my appearance is irrelevant. I'm Death, and you're dead."

This, of course, was only a half truth. While Barry was, indeed, quite dead, Madeline was merely her father's protégé. Madeline indulged in the lie any time the opportunity arose, and her father rarely made an appearance during 'package delivery', as Madeline called it, to show otherwise.

"Could you at least remove the rope thing? You've already got me here. It's not like I'm going to run away, and I don't enjoy feeling like your pet--unless I get something out of it, if you know what I mean.

Madeline gave the filament a firm tug, which caused Barry to stumble and fall to one knee before composing himself once more. "Yes, I believe I know exactly what you mean." She delighted in her own wickedness.

"Point taken," Barry said. "So is that a no?"

Madeline shook her head, but didn't look back. "Do you think you're the first person to make that request?"

Barry chuckled. "Well, with a personality like yours, I'm not surprised you have to rope all your victims." Barry heard thunder crack once more, and wondered if spirits could wet their pants.

Madeline stopped hard, stamped her foot, and yanked the cord harder than the last time, pulling Barry to his hands and knees. "Victim?" Kneeling to meet Barry at eye level, Miranda brought the dull end of her scythe under his neck, lifting his face to hers. "You are not my victim. I didn't kill you. Circumstance did. Clear?"

Barry's Adam's apple danced a mambo up and down his neck.

"I said, are we clear?" She flipped the scythe upside down to let the fine edge of the blade kiss Barry's throat.

"As the water in the Bahamas."

"Good." Madeline relaxed, and then rose with grace. She gave Barry a moment to collect himself before continuing their trek.

Barry was never considered the brightest person while alive, which made him perfect for Reality Television, and even now nuggets of information were beginning to coagulate in his brain and paint a picture the average person would have painted long ago. "Wait a minute. I'm already dead. I can't die ag...." Large shadows gathered above Barry and Madeline's heads--very large, very fast shadows.

"Duck!" Madeline yelled.

Before Barry could comply, Madeline snapped the cord tied to Barry's neck, slamming him face first on the ground with a thunk. With his view obscured by dirt, all Barry could see was the scuffling of Madeline's heeled, knee high, leather boots.

"Shoo! Get away! He's mine you tick infested, bottom feeders!"

What sounded like a tiger and a dolphin fighting to mate with a cow invaded Barry's ears. He managed to roll onto his back just in time to see an ethereal bird the size of a tractor swoop directly down on him. A high pitched scream escaped his lips as he watched serrated talons descend on his face, but before the claws could make contact, a gleaming flash of silver whizzed across his vision, causing the ghostly bird to explode into a burst of light and smoke. When he chanced to open his eyes, he was once again face to face with Madeline.

"Yes, you can die again, and if you die here, you're dead for good--like you never existed."

Only gasps escaped Barry's lips where words were desired. Madeline extended her hand, which Barry accepted and rose to his feet.

"What...what were those things?"

Madeline sniffed and narrowed her eyes into the horizon, watching as two of the flock made their escape. "My father calls them Cabasils. Don't ask me why. They're one of his creations."

"Why would he create something like that?"

Madeline sighed. "One of his weird hobbies. If you ask me, he just takes pleasure in making my job more difficult. Anyway, come on. We're almost there."