Don’t Ask Questions I Can’t Answer
I flinched. Don’t ask me complicated questions – I was never taught how to answer them.
“I asked you a question, it’s only polite to answer. Are you death? Where’s your scythe?”
“Do you think I need one?”
“No. You’d look just as beautiful either way, with or without.”
I smiled. And I loathed that I did.
There Isn't Any Way I Could Make This Work
I tore at his memories, the reminders of what he was and what I wasn’t. I shattered the visions, the dreams, the possibility that I could have. I swore to never look at him again. His soul, light and pure, a recollection of life.
My hand trembled as I traced his outline against the curtain. My collection of souls.
I let him in.
My Face is Flushed as His Soul Turns to Smile
My predecessor told me: “Do not meddle with love, especially amongst mortals and their souls. They thirst for attention. They offer you companionship and affection until you’re captivated by their every word, worshipping every syllable tumbling from their lips.”
I have people to visit and hearts to break. They have tears to shed. I have a world, ready to go up in flames. They have affection words can't express. I have a job to do. Some say I am merciful, some say I am fair. But in truth, I am neither.