How death fell in love with life

Death. The word usually made people want to run away. Death was a man. About as much a man as any other. Although he had the power to take life out of anything he wanted. He hid in the shadows and watched, waited for the right moment to steal the life from anything he could. He wore black jeans and converse, his shirt black as well. His cloak made of raven feathers. His hair short and messy. He was tall and lanky, and ungraceful in his walk and flight. He was most active at night, as that was when most life was asleep.

Life. People accepted this word. Loved it in fact. Everyone loved life, except death. Life is a girl. A beautiful girl,ever changing to the eye of men and women both. She never looked the same to two different people. She was not human unlike death. Life was magical. Life was not only beauty but grace and power. She walked along the streets during the day, smiling at all and making everyone lively and happy. She touched some dirt, a flower grew. A dog and she became in heat. The spread of life was happening constantly. But death was always there, secretly watching life take place.

But what happens, when death begins to feel the same about life, like everyone else... love perhaps?