My Boy Fills Coffins

The fact that I’m a girl in a man’s world is a bit off putting, I suppose. It does come in handy though because nobody suspects me. Nobody thinks that a five foot girl who looks around twelve is going to be the last thing they see before they die. Nobody thinks that my sympathetic smile will be the last thing they see before they feel pain so strong they die in seconds. I’ll be the last thing closest to a human that you’ll see before he comes.

Now, some could argue that he’s human too. He would say he’s as human as I am. He never was fully human to begin with; I just thought I’d point that out. He’s actually three quarters an asshole, always was.

He also has a job to do, it might be nasty but someone has to do it. His job means he knows everyone. He knows their weakness, their strength, what makes them tick, what they’re afraid of. He will use that to his advantage. You’ve probably heard of him more than once. You’ve no doubt been touched by his actions at one point or another. You’ll meet him sometime too, I can bet on that.

You’re wondering who he is, aren’t you? I’m going to tell you two key words to guessing who he is. Cloak. Scythe. And he’s not a farmer who likes to dress up as batman either.

His name is Death, but please call him Noah. I would like to say that he’s an easy going, calm and nice person to be around, but that would be lying. He’s actually moody, has anger management problems and shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near sharp objects. He’s also my best friend, not that I had any choice in the matter, that is.

This is a very complicated story of Death, whose name is actually Noah, his teddy bear, a sixteen year old girl, a broken washing machine and a few damned souls who want to kill me for no apparent reason.