Raven

Raven, Chapter One

So, let me start from the beginning—well, maybe from the beginning is taking a bit too far, considering my existence begins long before your understanding. Most of it, you get already: the worlds were created, Man and all his little furry woodland creature friends were given life, and that's when I was created. By the same dust and will, magic and spirit, I was created, Lady Death, to ensure there would always be balance in Life. People would be born, live their lives and have children of their own—each man having the ability to spawn his own tribe of whimpering brats. Without Death, people would quickly outgrow the resources available to them, so a check-and-balance was created to make certain that the population of Man remained sustainable. That check-and-balance was me.

Let's be clear, I didn't ask to be created any more than you did. One day I wasn't, the next day I was, and I was given this unpleasant task of snuffing the life from old and young, healthy and sick, evil and good. If I didn't, the world would be thrown into chaos. Now, how do I decide who to take with me? Regrettably, for the most part I don't have a choice. I receive bulletins, names and locations scrawled in a golden hand that passes before my eyes, every minute, letting me know who is where, and with exception to a short vacation that I took in Europe during the Dark Ages, I've kept to that list. Because I was enjoying my little sojourn in Europe but still had to maintain the overall balance, I started with a well-placed plague-riddled rat on a boat to Italy, and I didn't have to worry about overpopulation for a full decade which gave me a nice long sabbatical that I spent roving the cities and countrysides of Europe.

Now, you may wonder how I can get to people all over the Earth in such a short period of time. Sure you do, you were probably the snot-nosed little brat asking the mall Santa how he could haul his chubby cheeks down every chimney across the world in a day. Well, like I said, I was created from magic. And I have some badass witchy ways, I don't mind telling you. You may recognize my other form, Raven, which is the name I was given by the Big Guy. Yeah, I can fly, but then my arms can ache for days for a trip like that, so several centuries ago, I got smart. I created my own underground death dealers, my mafia of sorts, to do the work. .

It's a very elaborate system, since I've always taken special interest in technology. In addition to my transformative powers, I obviously can't die (much as I've tried—even spending a couple of centuries trying to disprove this fact with rather gruesome effects), but I can also create zombies. Yeah, those brain-chewing, limb-dragging fellas plaguing your TV do exist, and they're my masterpieces. It started as an accident when I met Don Juan who was such a sexy mother fucker I didn't want to let him go. Rather than just touching him with my power and walking away, when my fingers slipped over the satin of his doublet, he turned and looked through me.

I stood there, my body a cube of ice trapping flame, and his hands reached out, his full lips curled in a boyish smile. I took them, and he slipped his arms around me and pressed his lips to mine. I'd never been kissed before. No one had ever really seen me before, but Don Juan, he saw the woman in me, and he kissed me down into the depths of my soul. There we stood on piazza del Duomo, the world milling around us, and we kissed and kissed, the heady intoxication of passion and joy running over me. He finally pulled apart, his eyes seeking mine, and he exhaled. And I heard the unmistakable sound of the death rattle.

"It's okay, lady," he said, "I would rather go with your taste on my lips than live another decade without it."

I was heart-broken, and I refused to leave his side for the rest of the day, ignoring every summons I received. But a full day passed, and I watched as his skin blanched, he failed to breathe, and his eyes turned milky white, yet he continued to speak, to laugh, to tease.