The familiar sound of winter comes,
and follows me, like it always does around this time of year. The snowflakes
pass through me as I pile souls in the snow. I almost feel watched, but I know
that is impossible. The mortals on this world and all like it can’t see me. And
never will. I send the pile drifting off into the wondrous fuchsia sky from
the snow. The souls that had a right to live. Unlike me.
A small
fact
I am
death.
Do not be alarmed. I will know when it
is your time, and I will carry your soul away just as carefully as I sent this
batch.
A
reassurance
I am not the scary
brown or black-cloaked demon
with a scythe that kills for
Pleasure. It’s just my job.
I have
nowhere to live, mainly because I don’t live at all. I float in the between of
life and death, the thing between happiness and anger, trickery and honesty.
I don’t belong here, in this world. Not like
those I carry away. I am envious, even of the smallest flea. It is well known
that humans think of me as a murderer, or as war’s best friend, but this is not
true. I find war like the kind of friend no one wants to have, they make you
work and give you nothing in return, and when you complete one impossible task,
they keep on pushing for you to take on an even bigger one.
I never
wanted this kind of existence, but the world of being in between life and
nothingness, is a difficult way to be. I sometimes wish that I were dead, for
then I could belong somewhere. Even I do not know what it is like to live in my
realm, but I know that it must be more pleasant than this awful existence. I
try to stay on the bright side, I really do, but It’s difficult when all you
have to entertain yourself, are the colors of the sky.
I often
think about colors. It is strange how they work. For example, blue. To some
people blue is the color of sadness and cold, but to many others it is
perceived as trust, loyalty, sincerity, wisdom,
and confidence. This is how I entertain myself, gobbling up useless facts to
pass time. How else would I know that hippo sweat is red? Or that the next full
moon on Halloween will be in 2020? I’ve spent my life with information floating
around in my head. With no one to tell it to or to share it with. Of course,
humans can’t notice me, otherwise how would I manage to do my job? People
aren’t good listeners anyway, but I would live with the world's worst listener
if it meant that I could be seen.
“I
picked that quote because it really explains what the book is about,” I said
during my book talk. “I hope that you decide to read “a Day in the Life of
Death by Alexandra Romano” and with that, I walked back to my desk and took
a seat.
Theme Inspired by The Book Thief, by Markus
Zusak
