Book Four: Chapter 12

“What is being the grim reaper like?” Mike spotted a book that looked promising and opened it. The letters lifted off the page and reformed into English, so he scanned the contents.

“That is not a question I can answer.” Death stared at him. “Other than a few rare moments in history, I have no recollection of ever having thoughts or desires of my own.”

“That makes sense.” Mike tucked the book under one arm. “You’ve been with us for a couple of months now, though. Surely you have some thoughts on the matter?”

Death nodded. “I only exist on this plane when a creature dies. Though it happens constantly, each moment is but the blink of an eye. Rarely do I even walk among you. Rather, I simply come and go.”

“Really? Then what?”

“I reap, but do not sow. The souls I collect upon, they do get passed on, but to where they go, I do not know.” Death put the book away, then flashed a toothy grin. “It was only recently that I was able to even contemplate the creatur