“…Who…who ARE you? Death?” whispers the woman. I sigh, shifting my weight to my right foot as I shove my hands into my pockets, scarf hanging loose around my shoulders.
“Sometimes,” I agree. “Not today, however.” The girl looks slightly relieved, and slightly nervous.
“Wait, what does that mean?” she questions, mildly confused. I shrug my shoulders.
“It MEANS,” I explain, “That I’m off today: reaping isn’t on my list of things to do.” The girl frowns, staring me over.
“How do I know I can trust you?” Here, I grin easily: perhaps not the best move, given my sharp, serrated teeth, but it’s a friendly look never-the-less, and I think the girl can tell that.
“Because, haven’t you heard the saying “All things are equal to Death?” Besides, lying is tacky.” For some reason, this makes the girl giggle.
“You talk just like a normal person,” she observes, clearly at her ease now. I shrug again.
“Sure: why shouldn’t I? Were you expecting Lord Byron, pehaps? Shakespeare?” She laughs, nodding.
“Honestly? Kind of, yes,” she admits, blushing. I sigh, feigning annoyance.
“Why is it ALWAYS them?” She giggles again, and I smile, shaking my head. “In all seriousness, those guys were on this earth for 36 years and 52 years respectively, and yet, when asked, most folks will assume I have that sort of voice, or style of speech.”
“Can you talk like them?” she questions curiously. I blink, then frown.
“What? Uh, which one?”
“Either. Byron.” I sigh, clearing my throat.
“Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life, though fools be my theme,” I speak. She blinks, then giggles.
“You combined two quotes,” she snickers. I smirk, nodding and shrugging.
“Well, sure,” I agree, “I said I could speak like him: not that I could make it up at the hip.” This is too much, and she’s laughing comfortably now, breath fogging in the cold air. It was a relentlessly pleasant sound.
(P.S As always, these prompts are not original, and most were found on pinterest. I’ll take a day here soon and find all the original links. Thank you for your patience in the meantime!)
J.A.S Writings 