He’s a black man. Not dark as in brown-skinned, but black-souled. I can always tell just how they’ll taste with one little peek. Green makes for a crisp experience. Red makes me seethe with unexplained fury. Blue makes me smile and think of Sarah. The colors mean many things, and not many are pure black. When they are, my instructions from high up are damned clear: No redemption. No recycling. No anything. Just poof.
Black souls aren’t good for a fucking thing aside from deletion.
I follow him out the back screen door of the café, a paper folded under his arm, a To-Go cup full of Margaret’s Joe. Black coffee.
I slip my sleeve back from my watch. Five minutes and completely on schedule.
It’ll be a damned good favor to the world to take this one out. Cleaning up, balancing things out, but I tell you, when it’s an innocent…it chokes me up still.
My fault really; I got a little bit of heart left. It’s supposed to not be there anymore but sometimes, I can hear it beating. Maybe one or two thumps. Maybe ten. My guts tighten when I have to cut that thread on a kid. Or a sweet old lady. Death isn’t supposed to care about these things, but I do.
The dark man skirts around my car without as much as a glance. I smirk. The evil ones never can see very well. My car is special. She killed me a long time ago. I can’t explain how or why in five minutes.
The dark man pauses at the corner to light a cigarette. I want one as well. I can smell his smoke and his coffee and I miss life. It pisses me off. I want to take him early.
A bus passes by, just like the script. The dark man crosses the street, and I follow. I glance back at the car. Her headlights are dim but getting brighter. An orange jack-o-lantern gaze. She’s alive but doesn’t breathe. I stopped asking why and just take the when.
Three minutes. He’s boring me. I wish I’d catch him doing one last wicked thing, so it wouldn’t feel like wasting time.
He strolls into the alley. He’ll probably start seeing me here in a few. People always react uniquely because I look different to each one. He stops midway and leans back against the brick. Convinced he’s still alone, he lets out a rapid-fire raunchy fart. I laugh, and then he looks right at me.
A spot spreads on the front of his grey slacks and a trickle of his urine pools beneath him. I reach for him, wrinkling my nose. He no longer smells like good coffee and cigarettes. He smells like the dying. His heart struggles against tightened arteries. A vein pulses in his forehead and his eyes bulge.
The black form inside him comes loose and wisps around his body sliding down the wall, the coffee overturned in urine, the cigarette extinguished.
Yellow and brown. I stare at the colors and miss his getaway.
The misty shape whirls, unaffected by the alley-breeze like me. He’s in my reach, but my hand closes around nothing.
A couple strolls by the alley’s exit. The girl is pregnant. The dark form flows seamlessly into her distended belly.
A pigeon is startled from sleep by my howl.
Omigod. Wonderful, fantastic, excellent. I love your stories! He really should have been paying attention.
dark and rich like chocolate. venomous too!
Gorgeous! And what a strangely sexy MC :)
Great concept of the black soul getting away!
Wow. Loved the whole thing. Great flow and voice, but that ending. That was like a quick, sharp jab. Great work
Fantastic as hell. The imagery so damn vivid.
WOW! Nice ending! I'm totally into your Death POV and then bam, you hit me over the head again. *applauds*
Awesome - Love it. Well done.
Wow, very cool! Loved the whole feel of this piece, and the ending took me by surprise since I took that the black's death had already been scripted. Great story!
It's so hard to get good help these days.... Lovely twist there!
Sharp and crisp with a killer ending. Aw,I hate endings like this.
Awesome great work by you.
Well written . . . it gave me shivers -- perhaps because I've always been a day + night dreamer.
Wow -- Awesome and intense!
Very imaginative and atmospheric piece. I love the descriptions, the fact that the narrator resents being dead, the presence of all the senses in his/her descriptions. The only thing that threw me off a little was the reference to "when she killed me" and then drop it. Otherwise, an incredible story. Thanks for sharing it.
*looks around* Wait, wait...where's the happy ending?! Poor pregnant girl, poor unborn baby. *stamps feet*
This reader thinks your a good writer.
D'OH! Got away!
GREAT work on this one! Really nice pacing, set-up and execution. Love the style and voice. Fantastic piece!
Ooo -- good job. Very vivid. I got completely drawn in by your tone.
Poor Death is going to have to be telling all his friends about the one that got away :(
I love that. Amazing. Thanks for commenting on my blog. Take care. Have a great week.
Outstanding. I was a bit concerned, thinking it may turn into a Piers Anthony-esk stylization of Death, but no, it's totally yours. Unique and lovely.
Just to echo some of the other comments about the imagery and atmosphere,
you have done a great job in taking us through this story which adds real punch to the ending
Really strong story.
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