Hmm...so you might be thinking...how...predictable. If so your correct. Most things in life are predictable if you look at the signs. I mean who makes it out of a burning village as a baby when everyone else dies. At least not without a deal being made. In this case that man in the shadows. His name is Death. The man running, that's me. See, I told you it was predictable. Now, I didn't make a deal with Death. He made a deal with my father, as a result here I am running from death. Quite literally, not that anyone can escape Death.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As I was saying. I start running as fast as I could. This goes on for about three minutes before I notice I haven't moved. "I told you that running wasn't possible didn't I? Now you can either give up and work for me or I can make life hard for you." Slowing down and then stopping I turned to Death and shouted. " Why should I work for you at all! I don't owe you a debt!." The eyes under the hood glow brighter as if angered. "You didn't make this deal but the debt is still yours to pay."

"Then who made the deal and why cant they pay it!" I said my mind rushing to find an answer to my own question. "Your father made the deal when he died. Your life for his." Death said casually almost as if he was mocking me. Calming down from the initial panic a strange calm settled over me. "Then why am I here in this place, my father is dead. He paid that debt."

"You are here because the price he paid only covered the remaining time in his life span. Your father only had twenty years left to live when he made the deal with me." With a slow motion at his side Death raised his hand and pointed towards me. "That is why you are here. Because your twenty years are up." I started feeling the panic rising again. Looking around trying to find a means of escape, I noticed the doors. There were hundreds of them all along the hall. Many were the same dingy gray color with no ornamentation. But a few had colors or odd shapes, including one near me. A plan hastily beginning to form in my mind I started talking again. "Wait...if my father made a deal with you to keep me alive for twenty years then why am I going to be calling you master?"

"A whim. I'm letting you live and serve me as a whim." I slowly start inching towards the nearest door as while continuing to speak. "A whim? You brought me here and decided to let me live on a whim?" A little closer and the door handle would have been in my grasp but alas nothing is so convenient. "I see you are trying for the door. That is good it means you react well even under decidedly tough pressure." Freezing in place I began to feel the despair break me. There was no escape from Death no way of running or hiding. It was over. "What are you going to do with me? And why do you even need a servant?" My knees buckeled and I fell to the ground. "You will become a Reaper and assist me in the collection of souls. I may be Death but even I need a break. Oh and breathe. You don't need to anymore but it will calm you."

As he mentioned that I instinctively took a deep breath. Immediately my mind went blank as if some kind of magic had been cast on me. Never in my life had I felt that calm. "How do I become a Reaper. And since when does Death take a break?" Death moved his hand and suddenly he was a man. A normal man with light brown hair, pale white skin, about six feet tall and thin. Disturbingly thin, you could see the bones on his arms and face. Oh...but the eyes. The eyes were the same flaming dots. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a black T shirt. For all that he didn't look old though, maybe thirty at the oldest.

Death began speaking again in a lighter tone and a more human voice. "You see everyone has to start somewhere. I was once just a normal man with a normal life. Most people think of death as the ending of life and the beginning of something else. It is true enough for most people. I take lives and ferry the people to the other side. That's where these doors lead. Death is a job child. When I died the previous Death came for me and made me a Reaper. I was to be his heir. As time pas...." Before he could finish his sentence I interrupted him.

"Wait...hold on what do you mean heir? How can Death have and Heir? Also stop calling me child...I have a name you know." Deaths face changed to one of shock. "How dare you interrupt me I am Death, and I am trying to answer your question." He waved his hand in front of me and my point of view seem to shift. "There that should keep you quiet for the time being. Now where was I. Ah yes...as time passed I learned that Death is more like a business than anything else. You see that have been multiple souls with the title of Death. Each soul given this title is allowed to recruit Reapers who will serve until the next Death is chosen. The title is transferred once every thousand years as a soul cannont handle more time than that as Death. I was unlucky enough to still have the highest debt at the end of the cycle. Also you will..."