*Charlotte Sometimes

1.

1990 AD

Death and Taxes. The only true constants in life. I should know, I’m one of them. I am Death. Known by many names but the results are the same. I am he who severs the hold of all things to the mortal plane. I wish I could just be taxes.

With taxes at least you get a chance to get something back. Taxes can give you time. All I get to do is take time away. Money is measured in so many increments that it’s fascinating, time is measured by my tools of my trade, an hourglass and a scythe. I do love my scythe.

These are the things I think about as I go about my duty. It can get mind numbingly boring. It would give me a headache if I actually had a brain to feel pain. But yet things get stuck in my head. I’m not mindless, I just don’t have a mind. It’s a paradox.

At least with my duty I get to travel. It’s not like the old days though. I miss the endless miles to contemplate martial existence. The world grew up around me in my 990 years of work. I have become disenchanted by the modern world. I feel like the grumpy old man portrayed too often in modern media.

And don’t get me started on the music these days. The only band worth a damn since 1780 is The Cure. I feel like I have somehow influenced their music in little ways. It’s as dark and beautiful as the souls I see everyday.

And that’s another thing, I don’t like the modern deaths these days. It’s become tragic, as tragic as I can feel. A simple war or pestilence I could tolerate, but now it’s machine aided death. What was so wrong with canons and swords? Sure they were bloody, but there was a romance to it. It’s been replaced by gunpowder and computers. You used to have to fight hard to kill 100 people, now it’s so simple. It takes the fun out of things.

Drugs, new diseases, new wars, suicides, they all are too much for the fragile mortals to survive as a race. Pandora may have kept hope alive in her Pythia but hope seems to be dying.

I’m grumpy. I grow grumpier on every trip I have to make to collect another soul. It used to be that I collected all of them. Now I’m picky. They’ll end up where they're going on their own. It’ll just take longer.

I hold no concept of a heaven or hell as I have not witnessed them myself. And I wonder if I will as my time draws to an end. Because like all things, I too will have outlived my time. Do I dread it? Not necessarily. At least I will have good music to go out with. But existence is empty after so many years of going alone. 

I used to think a companion would be nice. A nice dog at my side. I’ve heard of other deaths who at least got a horse. Though I would have picked a fiery black one instead of a shining white one. But then again, having a companion would only add another mouth not to feed. 

I should have kept track of all the souls I’ve collected. That would have at least given me something to do. While away the hours and such. The hourglass is symbolic of course. I stopped bringing it on a few reapings but people expect the full show. It’s unprofessional to not bring all the tools of your trade. A carpenter without a saw is not a carpenter at all.

The scythe on the other hand is a necessity. I’ve grown to love my scythe. I hope I get to keep it when I am gone. It’s been my constant companion and friend. The whole of my duty lies in the revolution of it. One simple swipe and the deed is done. 

The soul I am on my way to sever better appreciate it. I sharpened it just for them. As I said, I don’t just collect anyone anymore. I reserve my trips for those of the utmost importance. It’s not that I don’t care about all the souls, I’ve just grown lazy.

The mortal I am going to meet is a prominent business man, a philanthropist, a peaceful man. He gave almost as much as he earned to humankind. He even tried to take care of animals. A rare man amongst his breed. A mere 50 years old as well. I wonder if he likes The Cure too.