((FULL VERSION AVAILABLE ON KINDLE, 9/9/14!)) Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Jack's a preacher's handsome son and Jill's a drunkard's daughter... Jill is a melancholy girl, strange to most; cursed to others. Her home is an isolated village where old superstitions are the key to normality. She is shunned by the townspeople because she is different–because she was born with an unusual birthmark. No one will associate with Jill outside her family, and even they treat her as something that ought to be condemned. And then there is Jack. Jack is the blessed sort–the son of Minister Hilton. He accompanies Jill to the well every day to draw water for the sanctuary. They are not friends, yet he is the only one who has ever been kind to her. There is something about Jack that Jill cannot seem to wrap her mind around. He is different from the rest of them but she can’t say how. She tries to keep herself from wondering about him, telling herself that his secrets can’t matter to her. They can never be close. But as time passes and the town grows more hostile toward her, any kind of friend– even an unacknowledged one–could prove valuable.

A smile crossed Death's cold, skeleton face. "Looks like you're out of a job," he told her. The angel looked up at him, shocked. "I-it's not as easy as it looks," she insisted. [A compilation of short stories that are sometimes about life, but mostly about Death.]