Monsieur Death

He was eight years old. A talkative little thing, brown hair and big brown eyes. It was supposed to be a car accident on highway 11 on his family’s trip down south to meet his grandparents. And I was supposed to be there, just like always, watching, waiting for the right moment to arrive so that I could take his soul and bring it to face Judgement and Punishment, and start a new life as a female. But maybe it was because of his determined dream to be come a Lego designer, or his eyes, or, most likely, my rebellious spirt finally breaking the surface, because as I stood there, watching the accident happen, I didn’t take his soul as it flitted out of his tiny body. The soul had nowhere to go except back to him. He survived that car crash, and I could only hope I would survive my punishment. I could smell Claude Judgement’s anger even before I reach court, but I suppose anyone could. It’s rather hard to miss when the king of the gods is ready to rip your face off. The rest of them were already gathered around it’s throne, nervously chattering about me. I heard several growls from the crowd, as well as an excited yip from Gossip. I approached Claude Judgement’s throne, and was unsurprised to be unable to find any remorse or nervousness inside me. I felt angry and moody, as usual. Unfortunately, pity nor a sharp tongue was going help me against Claude Judgement. I considered myself lucky, to be truthful. A few decades ago, Punishment had been king of the gods, and I still remembered the last Hope, who had bestowed hope on someone who didn’t deserve it or something stupid like that. She was replaced. It wasn’t something I wanted to see again. Especially if it was happening to me. As the god of death, I couldn’t feel much, but unfortunately, pain was one of the few.

“Monsiuer Death, Approach me!” Judgement called out. Fear was not among my list, but irritation as, and so I approached the throne and my fate, irritated. Judgement stared at me for a long time in silence, his eyes scanning me icily. Then, he spoke a sudden word, dark with force and sadness.

“Banishment.”

“For how long?”

He looked at me for a long time. “Forever.”

“Stop!” A voice I recognized ripples through the crowd. An old woman pushed through the sea of gods.

“Old Mother Time.” Judgement said in surprise.

“Give him a chance. If you never let him come back, what’s to stop him from letting her live? Let him come back if he can complete the task, and if he doesn’t, you may keep him as a human forever. But you know as well as I do that if two lives are let free, the world will fall.”

Judgement shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Alright then! I agree to these terms.”

Then she looked straight at me. Her eyes said, that’s the best I can do for you, boy. I nodded to show my appreciation. She winked and disappeared into the crowd

“You are to take a young girl’s life, Evangeline Morocco.” Judgement continued.

“Okay.” I was not in the mood for this.

“She is unpredictable, and so that makes her dangerous. She has done crazy things, and you know well what happens if she does before her time.”

“Okay.”

Judgement gripped the side of his head. “And,” he continued in a strained voice, “we cannot let that happen. So, we are sending you down to earth as a human, to save this girl from the peril she puts herself in, and let her die when the time is right. That will be in a little less than a month.”

“Okay.”

“And,” he said in even louder, strained voice, “you will know when the time is right!”

“Okay.”

I had pushed him over the edge. Goody.

“Go! Now!” He snapped his fingers and I dissolved into wind. Ever been sent to your room? It’s a bit like that, but your consciousness is split into a billion tiny unseeable pieces and smushed like an ant. Then, your mashed back together again in a totally different place. I opened my eyes to a small room with white washed walls and a single bed. A mirror hung on the wall across from me. Apparently, I was a light skinned teenager with dark, wavy hair and brown eyes. Gods could take whatever form they wanted, and I usually appeared as a hooded figure that the humans called “the grim reaper”, whatever that meant. Humans looked odd. A sudden clatter broke through the wall next to me, and I jumped. I ran outside the room and out the front door. I could see the people next to me moving boxes and suitcases around. The crash had come from a blond girl nearest to me. Automatically, I thought this was the girl I was looking for. She glanced up and shot me an apologetic grin.

“Hi!” She have a kick to the box she had dropped and walked over to where I was. “New here too?” She asked.

I nodded.

“I’m Emmaline , but you can call me Emma.” Something about that didn’t add up.

“What’s your name?”

“Monsieur Death.” I told her. She stared at me in silence for a while. I realized humans didn’t use names like that.

“Liam.”

“Oh. That makes more sense.” She smiles at me again.

“Where are your parents?” She asked, glancing over my shoulder.

“In Paris. The words came easily. A story formed in my mind. “ then sent me here for high school. Paris has some interesting education techniques.” I hardly knew what I was saying.

She laughed at this. “Yeah, I wouldn’t know. My parents never let me go anywhere. Oh well. I have to be honest, I haven’t really had anywhere I’ve wanted to go. I am a model student, entirely.” She laughed loudly and swung her hair. She looked at me when I didn’t laugh with her. I was busy thinking, and suddenly it clicked. Evangeline... not Emmaline. She was not the girl I was looking for.

“Hey, do you know someone named Evangeline Morocco?”

Her expression soured. “Why do you want to know?”

“I... I used to be friends with her.”

“Evangeline doesn’t have friends. She’s a reckless impudent brat.”

“I.. yeah. So you do know her?”

“Of course! I’m Emmaline Morocco! She’s my sister!”

Well, that made things easier.

“I would like to meet her.”

“Meet her.” Her eyes narrowed. “I thought she was a friend of yours.”

I realized my mistake. “Evangeline doesn’t have friends. She’s a reckless impudent brat.” I parroted irritability. Her expression tighter even more. I didn’t want to spend anymore time with her, but I needed to find out more about Evangeline. Then again, I had three whole years before she died, and I felt like going into my room and brooding. I turned around in irritable silence and entered my room again. I touched the wall, willing it to turn black. It did. So I was left with some magic. I walked around the room, turning everything black. I wondered what else I do. I clenched my fist over the wall and a bookshelf appeared. A bookshelf? Judgement must be making fun of me. I clenched my fist again, and a book popped out and I fell to the ground at my feet. I picked it up, annoyed. Fancy writing scrawled across the front read: The Phantom of the Opera. I stared at it for a moment, then sat down to read.