The Journals of Death.

Dear Whoever Decided to Open This,

Hi, I'm Death.

I'm the last thing that happens to anything that lives, and the first thing people see when they enter the afterlife. I'm a sentient being that requires little introduction. In any case, this is my journal. The stories I tell are not within a human's realm of understanding. This isn't to say that a human can't read what will take place, but rather that some things cannot be fully realized within the humans' concept of the world. Call it my disclaimer.

There are so many pages in this thing that I hardly know where to begin. Let's see what to write... It's no use. I can't think of anything worth mentioning. I can complain about Life all I wish but that isn't going to make this much of a journal. I would rather avoid thinking about him if I can help it. Life is always going on and on about second chances. Absurd, quite honestly, because he is all talk and no substance. The same could be said for me, I suppose, as I try my best to string words together to support my own gains. Speaking of words, what has this become? In any case, every story starts somewhere, and I suppose mine shall start here, in the office of Hades...