Death leaned lazily against the hood of a black-and-yellow checkered cab, staring down at my lifeless corpse as it drifted in the water. The ocean’s idle ebb and flow made my body dance, bouncing against the stilts of the dock. The motion only made it seem more dead. I stood silent and still, trying to make sense of the scene.


    “Well, I’ll be damned. Jack Callaghan, in the spectral. I’m a huge fan.”


    Death’s smile faded as he placed a hand on my shoulder. “Real shame,” he said, thrusting a long finger toward the body. “It’ll be a few hours before anyone finds it, at least. Hate to see water damage like that. Not to mention the hungry fish. I’m not a betting man, but if I were, I’d put money down on a closed casket.” He reached down with one slender arm and lifted my face out of the water, taking a moment to consider it. “Yep, definitely closed.” He dropped it with a splash.


    Death looked different from what you’d expect. He wore a cloak and bore a scythe, as he’s classically depicted. But the cowl was pulled back, revealing the face of a man. He looked middle-aged, with faint lines around his eyes, the kind etched by years of smiling. His skin was sun-kissed, though still pale at the neck. He had the air of a dad who never missed his son’s soccer games. But most notable about him was that he seemed real while the rest of the world felt hollow, like the way a photograph feels in place of the real thing. Sort of empty. Just a picture of what was. My mind raced to catch up, my life feeling foggy, like a dream I was struggling to remember.


    “Don’t worry about the mind fog,” he said, with the bedside manner of an experienced nurse. “The memories come back... or they don’t. You’re thinking without a brain now. New sensation. Don’t know why people try to think with their brains anyhow. Gums up the works, if you ask me. But what do I know? I’m just the embodiment of Life’s Ending, the face of Transition itself.”


    “It’s coming back to me. But it’s a bit of a blur,” I replied.


    “Quite right. Few people like to hold on to their lives. Easier to sort of let it all go. Try not to think too much about it. Gives you a headache.” His accent was peculiar, shifting from one region to another every few sentences.


    I looked at him closely, then down at the body again. I should have been more startled by the whole thing than I was. Maybe I was just used to weird. Images of demons flashed in my mind. A leather jacket with an attitude. A cursed house with grand plans of its own. Hell, I’d been through The War. But this? This was different.


    From this perspective, the corpse hardly even looked like me. Maybe it was because it was dead, or because I wasn’t used to looking at the back of my own head. Then again, and more likely, I just wanted to pretend it was someone else. That I was looking at the body of some other poor hapless schlub. That this was all just a dream. The details of my life came slowly when I let them, but they slipped through my fingers like gossamer if I reached too hard.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    “So, this is it?” I asked. “I’m dead?”


    “I’m afraid so, buddy. But don’t sweat it, no-body’s perfect.” Death waited with an expectant stare before shrugging off his smirk with a sigh. “Tough crowd.” He shook his head subtly. “What do you expect when talking to stiffs?”


    “You’re not really what I expected,” I said.


    “You know, I get that a lot. It’s like the hood and scythe aren’t enough anymore. People want the whole song and dance. I mean, that was good and all for the first thousand years, but come on, can you honestly tell me you’d prefer this?”


    He lifted his hood over his head. Black tendrils of smoke spiraled around him, raising him into the air several feet. His face, hidden behind the deep and endless darkness of his hood, left two fiery orbs peering back at me. His hands, skeletal and grotesque, pointed down at me as he rose higher and higher still. Winds crashed hard, and I struggled to stay on my feet.


    Then a voice as old as time itself. To say it spoke would be wholly lacking. Rather, it intoned without speaking. Deep and full and all that was.


    “DEATH HATH COMETH, PUNY MORTAL. BOW NOW FOR YOUR TIME IS AT ITS END. ACCEPT THE FATE OF ALL. FOR I AM THE DESTINY OF ALL CREATURES. THE FINAL WORD OF ALL WORDS. THE…”


    “Okay! Okay! I get your point,” I shouted out against the whipping winds.


    Within a blink, he was the middle-aged man again. “See what I mean?” he said, straightening up and dusting himself off. “And all that smoke leaves a smell. Heck of a time at the dry cleaners.” He assessed me briefly. “Hey, you don’t happen to know of a good dry cleaner in town? Possibly one familiar with shawls. Good cleaners are hard to find. I’d machine wash, but I hate to...” He looked up and caught my eyes before shaking his head. “I suppose not. Well, no matter. It’s about time to go.” He opened the backseat of the cab and made a sweeping motion with his hand.


    I watched him closely, half-expecting another one of those unsettling transformations, but he just stood there, one hand casually shoved into his pocket, the other gesturing toward the cab door, like he was the chaperone at a school dance. It was almost disarming—too normal for someone like him—and that’s what bothered me.


    Death wasn’t what you think. It was like the punchline to a joke that you missed, leaving nothing but an empty, bitter feeling at the end. Maybe life was the joke after all. I glanced down at the corpse sprawled out in front of me, bloated and already becoming a feast for flies. The sight was familiar, yet the finality of it felt distant, like something just out of reach.


    Then I looked at Death—really looked at him. I’d never imagined what he might be like, but this wasn’t it. There was something familiar in his eyes—a look I’d seen too many times before. It was the same haunted stare I’d caught in worn-out car salesmen and down-and-out hustlers: nervous, desperate, like he was about to pull a fast one on me. It was as if...


    “Alright,” I said, turning towards the cab, pushing down the gnawing unease twisting in my gut. “Let’s get this over with.”


    Before I could reach the door, Death materialized in front of me, his eyes now brimming with concern. “Just like that?”


    Something didn’t sit right. He was holding back; I could feel it.