I won’t make this a big thing (though I am thoroughly excited about it). Here is a story about Death, and a man who thinks about Death just a little too much.

Termination

Strangulation. Evisceration. Asphyxiation. Exsanguination. Haaa-angulation. No, that wasn’t a word. Travis pulled at the collar of his shirt as he walked down the long corridor to the river.

“You’re fired Death. No.” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Death, you’re fired.”

As Travis thought about all of the different ways Death could kill him, he came to a black door with a neon red sign that said “Styx.”

When he accepted this job, he had no idea he’d be dealing with Death himself. The Styx Travel Agency was the leader in afterlife travel care and thanks to Travis, the corporate underworld was experiencing major changes that would lead to swifter runtime, and better automation. The downfall- Travis had to fire Death. Hopefully without being terminated himself.

His breath came in short gasps and his heart thrummed in his ears. Du-dum. Du-dum. Du-dum.

His hand shook against the handle. The other clutched a folder to his chest. If he opened the door, there was no telling what Death would do to him. Maybe rapid blood loss was the way to go. Like falling asleep.

“Come on, Travis,” he said. “You can do this. It’s your job.”

He took a breath, closed his eyes, and turned the handle.

The door creaked open.

Water lapped quietly against the shore and the riverbank opened up in front of him.

“D-death?” Travis’ squeaked. He cleared his throat. “Death?”

He stepped further into a wide cavern and peered around the door.

There was nothing in the stagnant room, and Travis relaxed.

After only a second to verify the cavern’s emptiness, Travis turned back to the door.

Something dropped in front of him, clanking, dangling, and oozing. Travis heard a high-pitched squealing as he batted it away.

“Hey, hey, hey,” the thing spoke, and Travis paused. The screaming stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Travis opened one eye to a skeletal figure carrying a pot of daisies in his arms. Travis' face flushed, realizing he’d been the one squealing. The dangling object was a skeleton. And the skeleton was…

“You okay buddy?” the skeleton said. He wore a button shirt covered in colorful little daisy prints and a blue tie.

“Death?”

“That’s me,” he said, jostling the flowerpot to hold out one boney hand. Travis looked at the hand and swallowed. He shook it slowly. “What can I do for you?”

“I-” Travis didn’t know what to do. Death stared at him. Travis stared back.

“Well, when you think of it, I’ll be over here.” Death walked toward the river’s edge and placed the flowers on the edge of a wooden bench. “It’s so depressing down here don’t you think?”

Travis watched as Death arranged the flowers, turning the pot this way, leaning back to inspect it, and rotating it back.

“The flowers never last long, but I can’t help but try,” he shrugged, then sat down on the bench beside them. "I've been working the soil for a millennium now but can't seem to get it right."

Travis clutched the folder. He knew what he needed to do, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. As soon as he did, Death would tap Travis’ head and he’d be the next passenger down the river.

“Slow day today,” Death said politely, crossing his neatly slacked legs. “Not a single soul has passed through.”

“Yes, well,” Travis swallowed. There it was. His window. Say the words and get out. “Um. Actually, I-”

“Yes?”

Travis couldn’t say it. Fire Death? He might as well quit now and dive into the river; a failure before he turned two-fifty. He shuffled his feet forward instead. The folder shook harder the closer he came to Death. He held it up.

“What’s this?” Death took the folder and flipped through it, his eye sockets settling on one word. “Terminated?”

Travis flinched. There it was. 

“Your services are no longer required,” Death read from the folder. “Implementation of the Automated Soul Retrieval System has proven successful… ASRS? Am I being replaced by a machine?”

“I-” A lump formed in his throat. He tried to force his voice to be enthusiastic. “You’re automated!”

“Automated,” Death said. “And who had that brilliant idea?”

He said his next word as if it had been pulled from his chest by some mystical force. “Me.”

Death looked up, glaring at him. Travis flinched when he pointed one boney finger at him. “You?”

Travis nodded. His lip trembled. Any second now, his flesh was going to sizzle off his bones and he’d be one more decoration on Death’s River Ride.

But his flesh stayed intact. Death flipped page after page.

“I better have one heck of a severance package.”

Death continued reading, and Travis’ sweat pooled in his armpits and chest. It trickled down his skin in waves that were only possible this deep in the earth with a guy that could fry his eyeballs in their sockets using the oils from his own skin.

“A hundred million pesos?” Death looked at Travis and pointed a boney finger at himself. “Do I look like I celebrate Dia de Muertos?”

“I don’t know…” Travis said. “Do you?”

“No, kid,” Death sighed. “I don’t. You know, when I suggested this idea to the big guy over a dozen Millenia ago, he didn’t think it would work. He said nobody would pay for soul transportation. That walking the whole way was part of the experience. Do you see that sign up there?” He pointed at the red neon sign above the river entrance. “What’s that number say?”

Travis looked up. He didn’t really care. He just wanted to leave now with his message delivered, before he ended up skewered by a hanging stalagmite.

“One hundred, four billion, eighty-seven million, three hundred-”

“-eighty-three thousand, four hundred and eleven souls.” Death finished, turning back to Travis. “Yeah. All me. When was the last time I got a thank you? Or a fruit basket? I mean, I’m only three hundred and eleven years away from retirement.”

Travis raised a brow. Three hundred and eleven. Why would they just fire him if he was so close? Where would his pension go?

“Yeah, well…” Travis said. He turned to leave. “Ha-have a nice day.” 

“Wait. Why are you in such a hurry?” Death said, his brow bone raised.

Travis paused. “You’re Death.”

“Yeah?”

Travis looked away before he said it, shuffling his feet. “I don’t want to die.”

“Die?” Death laughed. “What’s death got to do with anything?”

Travis opened his mouth. He closed it. He opened it again, confused.

“You’re not going to kill me?”

“Kill you? Do I look like I could kill you?” Death gestured to his bow tie and daisy print shirt. “Please, I just count the souls and take them from here,” he motioned side to side with his hands, “to there. I’ve never killed anything in my entire existence. Unless you count the flowers.”

“No?”

“Nope.” 

“Not one?”

“Not a single one.”

Travis chuckled, relieved. It was over. He’d done what they asked for and he wasn’t going to die today.

“Oh, thank you,” he said, his stomach finally unfurling. He glanced up. “Thank you.”

“Course,” Death said. “Glad I could help.”

Travis chuckled. Death was sarcastic. He turned to leave but hesitated, watching. Death wilted faster than the flowers in front of him.

Disembowelment. Disfiguration. Fire. Having his heart cut out while he still lived. That’s what should have happened. But Death sat at the edge of the water, watching his flowers sit motionless in the non-existent breeze. Travis almost thought- but it couldn’t be.

Was Death… sad?

He stepped forward almost with that same mystical force that made him speak.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I really love this job.” Death shook his skull and it rattled side to side. “I mean, who’s going to spook the newly dead when they book their ticket? Who's going to make the ooze to decorate the ferry with? Huh? Do you have any idea how long that stuff takes to make?”

Travis took a guess. “A long ti-”

“A long time, yeah.”

“Well, have you ever thought about doing anything else?” Travis said. He didn’t really know what he was doing except that there was a glimmer of something pushing him forward. A desire to make it better. 

“Well, I- I suppose,” he said. “But I have zero transferable skills. I mean, I've been doing this since day one.”

“You’re innovative,” Travis took a step forward. “That’s a big bonus anywhere. Have you ever thought about striking out on your own?” Travis took another step. “If you hadn’t become Death; Lord of the Underworld; Travel Expert Extraordinaire; what would you have done?”

“I don’t know,“ he ducked his head. “Well, I-”

“Yes?” Travis urged when he didn’t continue. He sat down, marveling at his own sudden change. Death was sad, and Travis didn’t like it.

“It’s silly,” Death's face split into a toothy grin. “But I… I always wanted to get into composting.”

“Com… posting?” Travis frowned at the unexpected response.

“Yeah! Isn’t it great?” Death said. “All those little microorganisms breaking down the life filled particles to create new life filled particles. Watching all the wriggling worms chomp through the soil. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“I suppose,” Travis said. He didn’t really get it at all, but it made Death happier, and that made Travis feel… something that wasn’t the dread of his life hanging on by a thread, so that was nice. And then a thought struck him. “Like… understanding the number theory behind Fermat’s Last Theorem?”

“I have no idea what that means- but exactly like that,” Death smiled, then sighed. “I won't lie, I feel a little like a patch of dirt that hasn't been watered in a hundred years.” Death looked at Travis, his eye sockets wide and earnest. “You know what I’m saying?”

Travis swallowed. “Yeah. I know what you’re saying.”

Travis stood watching Death silently. He knew exactly how that felt; caught in a parasitic business deal that left him to manage this patch of Under World Corp, working for a guy who could rip his retirement out from under him in exchange for a pity severance.

Death’s arms flailed out, and Travis flinched away instinctively.

“I’ve got it,” Death said, bony fingers snapping. “Let’s water ourselves.”

“What?” Travis said. “What does that even mean?”

“Listen, Trav-” Death hung his arms around Travis shoulders and Travis didn’t move away this time. “Can I call you Trav?”

Travis shrugged.

“I’ll be honest with you here. The second you walked into the office you looked like a wilted dandelion on a hot summer’s day. Just a little too close to dead for life, but not quite close enough for the ASRS to count. You catch my drift?”

“Yeah,” Travis nodded, finally understanding. He’d worked for years on the ASRS, taken out too many loans to get it finally picked up by the Under World. He realized now that that bit of water he’d been given was only a cup when he needed an entire gallon.

“What if you used your brain for yourself, and we made the Underworld's best compost together?”

“What?” Travis leaned away.

“Well, you look like you could use a drink,” Death said. “The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. I could take the severance package, set up shop somewhere nice. But I need a brain. In case you can’t tell.”

Death knocked on his skull and chuckled at his joke. Travis smiled.

“I mean, I can’t just up and leave,” Travis said. “I worked hard to get this job.”

“I know you did. And I won't sway you one way or the other,” Death said. “But I think we’d do great things together.”

Could he just give it all up? Maybe he’d seen the job as right before, but now he couldn’t imagine working his entire life to have it all ripped away at the last second. If they would do that to Death- Death- what hope did he have?

Travis rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t believe what he was actually considering.

“So, Travis,” Death said, offering his hand. “How do you feel about composting?”

End of Ep. 1

There you have it friends! I hope you enjoyed it! Stay tuned for Episode 2 on February 24th!

-Anna