“I am not a man you want to trifle with, Albert.”

He was short. Maybe five foot ten inches. Albert had a level view of his face. The puggish nose that looked like it had taken one too many punches, the beady eyes that stared blackly into Albert’s, the almost reflective bald head, the yellowed teeth that looked like he had been smoking for his whole life, the pale powdery skin almost entirely devoid of hair. The only hair on his body might have been his eyebrows.

Albert wasn’t sure why this man he had to tilt his head down to look in the eye was so terrifying. There was no indication why his almost raspy low voice sent chills down Albert’s spine.

“Really?” Albert’s voice was shaky. Normally he wouldn’t have noticed. Normally a slight stutter to his words flew right under the radar. But it was clear that he couldn’t not be afraid of this man. “Who are you then? Why did you kill those people.”

“A hint, perhaps?” The man fasted his black bowler hat back on top of his head. It completed the all black ensemble; suit coat, vest, shirt, tie, slacks, shoes, socks too probably—all black. “I am no respecter of men, or health. I come for those poor and I come for the man with wealth. I ride on rats and poisoned breath. Who am I?”

A riddle? Was he a supervillain? It rhymed though. Of course it did.

Albert knew the answer the man meant, but rather than answer, sprang from the top of the apartment building stoop, over the railing and towards the trashcans below. It wasn’t the softest landing in the world, but it was better than falling face first into a concrete sidewalk again.

“Albert. Boy. I take it you figured out the answer to my little riddle.”

The man was standing above Albert this time. Looming over the dumpster he’d landed in. Albert hadn’t thought he had gone unconscious, but there was no other explanation for how the man had gotten in front of him so quickly.

“The answer to all your questions… is that I am Death.”

The the yellow teeth faded in detail as he spoke. They were overcome by a new disturbing feature. A black smoke dripping from his mouth like a putrid fog.

“I thought you’d be taller!” Albert grunted out as he swung his fist at the man’s face.

It was a desperate attempt. Albert was not known for his physical prowess. He’d gotten in fight in his entire life, and it was only a technicality. In fourth grade, he’d been pushed into the middle of a circle that was forming around two other kids fighting and taken an elbow to the face. He had been in the fight, but as a casualty.

To his surprise, and the surprise of Death, the punch landed. Albert regretted it immediately though, his hand was now throbbing in pain. Much like the rest of his body had been earlier when Death had chased him back to his apartment stoop. Now his fist hurt twice as much as the rest of his body. Death didn’t seem physically hurt at all, but he did look surprised. Or maybe he was impressed. There was a strange smile on his face, sort of a half twist up at the edges but a flat line in the middle. Maybe it was a mix of anger and pride? Pride for what, though, Albert had no clue.

“I thought you would be a little more dead. Yet here we are.” Death grabbed Albert by the collar of his shirt and lifted him out of the dumpster.

It was an awkward hold. Death was shorter and Albert’s feet were dragging on the ground. It would have looked silly to anyone watching, but the two were obscured just below street level and behind a conveniently placed holly bush. Death’s grip was firm, like iron. Albert had to hold on to his wrist with both hands to keep himself from choking on his own collar. He didn’t have enough space to stand up all the way with Death’s arm there, it was so firmly planted it didn’t even budge as Albert strained against it.

“So what now?” Albert huffed, still struggling against the hold. “You take me to the afterlife?”

“Do you want me to take your soul?” Death raised one of his pencil thin eyebrows. It was an almost hopeful display.

“No.”

“Well then, we seem to have reached an impasse,” Death sighed. His voice was becoming more a low hiss. All of his words very particularly punctuated. “I want your soul. You oppose my desires. I refuse to let you wander the world as an errant soul to waste away without being useful. You seem intent to do just that.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Albert was slowing down now. The fear, the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body up until this moment was fading.

“You want to be useful, do you not?”

Albert was speechless. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this. He was utterly lost in what was happening to him.

“Forgive me. I seem to have forgotten your age. Here I am, asking you what you want out of life,” Death let out a low raspy laugh “and there you are, a teenage boy. You don’t have a clue, do you.”

“I don’t want to die.” Albert had begun to catch on. There was something strange going on with this man. He had inhuman strength, he was fast, he had oozed black smoke from his mouth… he called himself Death. Maybe he is Death. Albert thought to himself.

But it seems like he needs permission to kill me. Or something?

“No one does. That does not mean that your life would be worth living, or that I should give it back to you.”

“So, what? We just stand here forever? You try and convince me I should let you kill me and I say no?”

“We could do that. But I am a busy man. People die every second.”

“Then you could let me go and chase someone that doesn’t mind dying.” Albert was smiling faintly now. Not confidently, more of a fear smile—as one does when they are in this sort of situation.

“I could do that.” Death frowned, jaw clenched. His beady eyes fixed on Albert’s again. “But you frustrate me.”

“What do you suggest then? You beat me within an inch of my life for your troubles and then leave?”

“Tempting as that may be, there is an alternative. Allow me to convince you that I am right, and you are wrong.”

“What’s that supposed to…”

Death held up his free hand, and with a snap of his fingers the world went dark around Albert.