Death

There was nothing. She stared at the body of the man she had loved, and there was nothing left. Her body was empty of emotion, she couldn't even scream his name or cling to his body. She loved him so much.She didn't know how he had died, but his dead body was before her. Her memory was blank, and time seemed to stand still. She was faintly aware of movement around her, but she cared not for what was happening. There was only the empty feeling inside of her. And then, faintly, the pain started to swell up.

Death stared at her. He watched her start to cry, and to scream his name in sorrow. He watched her try to wake him up, though she knew that he was dead. People tried to tell her something, tried to hug her or to say her name. Nothing happened, and the other people around just stared at them. Death continued to stare at them, he hated this part of his job.

'Give me wars, give me murders', he thought 'give me suicides and hangings, but not this'. And though he watched her with sorrow, there was nothing he could do to ease her pain. He had no power, he did what he had to do, and that was all. He had been bound for a long time to this oath, and there was no way for him to be released.

Then, the body of the dead man shifted. Death watched as the soul materialized, confused and unaware of it's state. The man looked around, saw the crying woman and tried to tell her something. When she couldn't hear him, he tried to embrace her. His arms and body went through her like smoke, and the realization dawned on him.

He shouted at her, tried to grab her in some way, but to no avail. He searched frantically around, and saw Death looking at him. The man made his way over to Death, on his knees, and looked at him. He tried to plead with Death, but Death knew that he could not grant the man's request.

"You died", he told the man simply, "you can't stay here. She is gone forever, and so are the rest". His voice was cold and unfeeling, but not out of a lack of emotion or sympathy for the man. It was all that was left of Death.

The man again pleaded with Death, saying he would do anything to get back, to stay with her in any way. He asked where he would go and if she would come to the same place. He asked a great deal of questions that Death ignored, and when the man had finally stopped talking, he looked sadly at him again.

Then, the scythe came down on the man, splicing his soul in two. The tendrils of the smoky soul swirled and then vanished. Death looked once more at the scene before him, and if he had still been a man he would have shed tears. Not for the woman or the man, but for the woman he once loved. The one whom he had traded his soul to be with, and now he was starting to forget her.

The price had seemed good back then. A life with her, and then an eternity of servitude. He had forgotten all about the Old Death, and all that he could remember from his life was the woman who died and that he couldn't let anyone else take his task. Until he had forgotten everything, he would remain in this form, the Grim Reaper for all time.