A Matter Of Life And Death

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: BoMoWriCha Prompts


Death struggles to survive in a post-apocalyptic world. Inspired by a prompt from the BoMoWriCha House.

Submitted: July 10, 2018

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Submitted: July 10, 2018

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A Matter Of Life And Death.

 

My name is Death. I have always been known as such, for my task is to come out and let people know that their time of life is up. It’s all over. The end. There is nothing more to look forward to or to dread.

But now I’m having a crisis of identity. A loss of my own role in life, that being Death.

They cheated me, humanity. Killed themselves off in great numbers, so quickly and abruptly that I never had the slightest chance of keeping up. World War 3, they called it, and didn’t they just go along and almost wipe out the entire human race.

The thing is that if they all die there will no longer be any need for my existence. No Life, no Death! And you know what, I’m not ready to cease existing yet.

The survivors though, they seem hell-bent on their own destruction. Just the other day there was one of them about to drink some contaminated water, and to stop them from taking this fatal act, I had to turn it acid yellow. You have no idea how hard performing that act was when before I would have been egging him on and waiting for him to get on with it.

The stress on the survivors of....surviving...is starting to show. Too many times I have had to use my calming powers to stop a fight that has got out of control, to save more than one life at a time in some cases. Every bit of me cries out to let them get on with it, but for my own selfish reasons, I can’t.

I can honestly say that until it became my role to keep them going as a race, I never knew what a self-destructive and careless race humanity was. And they think themselves intelligent! If it was not for beings like me they would have ceased to be a long time ago, taking me with them.

It can be quite amusing to watch their reactions sometimes, when I step in and save the day. You see, they cannot see me, the Grim Reaper in all his black skeletal glory. But they do feel an influence, something that steps in as protection. They might not appreciate it in the short term – this is especially true in the case of violent disputes – but later, they generally thank something that they now call Life.

Now this is really messing with my mind. Can you imagine how it makes me feel? I’m Death, after all! The polar opposite of what they are now calling me.

So I guess I’ve been forced in to making a career change until the population once more grows and expands, and I have no doubt it will. As humans have not been able to resist the effect of Death, neither will they of Life.

But, I’m telling you now, this is not a permanent change. I know my life’s true calling and that is to be Death.

 

(500 words)


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