The Journals of Death.

Part Two

A stray cat crossed my path. I never liked calling them strays though. Surely, they have enough control over their own existences. Why must they be 'owned' by humans to be considered complete? That's a bit unfair, in my opinion. Despite what others may believe, I am quite fond of animals. I preferred them over anyone else. Human beings were annoying. And don't get me started on angels.

I was sitting on top of a slide in one of the humans' playground areas for smaller humans. This one hasn't been used in quite some time. The place was falling apart. Decrepit. Just like home. Rust. Missing parts. Quite a bit of bugs. Maybe even a bird's nest here or there. Plenty of overgrown grass and brush. Weeds.

Anyway, the cat had been chasing something but lost sight of it once it noticed me on the slide. At first the critter elected to avoid me but upon realizing that I wasn't going to chase after it or bother it like humans would've, it came closer. Curious. As kitties tend to be.

"I'm sorry, little dear, but I can't pet you even if you get closer," I spoke. I'm not sure if animals can understand me but more often than not, they can see me. Especially the ones believed to be unlucky, like this black cat here. "I wish I could," I sighed. The cat purred despite my inability to get closer. It hopped on to the base of the slide and curled up into a ball. Adorable.

A child came from the woods and began running toward the cat. They appeared to already be acquainted because the cat rolled over to reveal his belly. I stared at the two confused as to why a kid would be in this area. Where were its parents? Not that it had anything to do with me. If I was lucky, maybe it was on the list, and I could have an easy collection job.

"I'm not human. I'm your child," she looked straight up at me as if reading my mind. I could see some resemblance in our faces, but her hair was a brilliant gray.

"I don't have any children," I replied, matter-of-factly.

"You don't remember me?" It sobbed, rubbing its eyes as tears fell down its cheeks. They were green droplets against its pale skin.

"It's not about if I remember you or not," I crossed my arms, now uncomfortable, I'm not good around small versions of adults. "The fact of the matter is that I'm unable to produce life."

"Maybe I'm not alive," it tilted its head to the side, staring at me quizzically. "Or maybe Life is my father?" If I was drinking something I surely would've spat it out. There was zero possibility of that being the case. 0% chances out of 0. If God came to me and asked if I would rather be wiped off the face of the earth or create a child with Life, I would choose the first option. Group projects are not my forte.

"That's proof right there that you aren't my child. You'd know the impossibility of what you just suggested," I pointed at the kid. "It would be a paradox, got it? A paradox."

"But you were married to Life for a while."

Huh?

What?

I supposed, theoretically, it could be possible for me to have been married to Life in some other realm but the idea itself made me want to dig myself a grave.

Hm.

Wait a minute.

If I am having such a hard time coming to terms with this concept then I'm sure Life would have an equally difficult time. This would be a great opportunity to get back at him for that thing he did the one time. Time to go to Heaven and give him some Hell.

"Say, what do you say we go meet your 'father'?" I grinned.