"Life and Death" by Jackie D. Ozorio

I don’t care if you’re black or white. If you’re Christian or Jewish or Pagan. I don’t care if you were a perfectly good person, or if you were a particularly bad sinner. I don’t care if you donate to charity. I don’t care if you sell your soul - to me or the one you call Satan. And I really couldn’t care less if you care that I don’t care.

All that matters to me is that you will all, eventually, die.

She didn’t know what a big favor She was doing me. She was stronger, much stronger than I at the time, which makes it all the more ironic. She had all those dinosaurs. She was amazingly powerful, while I dwindled away and grumbled to myself, and tossed pebbles into my pool of resent. Then, lightning struck! Metaphorically speaking. I had a certain brainstorm, something that comes rarely to me.

The Extinction. It was so significant I decided it deserved a capital letter. It was, after all, a stroke of genius. I should have received an award.

Then it was I who flourished, growing terribly powerful as She receded to the shadows. I wouldn’t destroy Her, though. No, never. For without Life, how can there be Death? My plan was to make Her just strong enough to keep me well-fed on things like lemmings and gofers and such.

I had the run of things. And though I do admire Her work, though I crave Life as much as the next guy, I need my power.

Then, what do you know. Up She pops, with a new trick up her sleeve. She’d come up with my downfall, and my uprising. Sweetly contradicting.

She came up with humans.

You thrived! You multiplied! You grew and expanded and there - was - Life. Like there never had been before, and - unless She was incredibly lucky - like there would never be again.

However, there were horrendous drawbacks. For Her side, of course. You weren’t as slow to catch on as some of the other creatures. You made tools, weapons, nations…you made war.

How I do love you humans. You murder, assassinate, feud, destroy entire species of animals and plants. You even kill yourselves - which, apart from the lowly lemming, is almost unheard of. You worship, something that was new and quite pleasant, actually. Of course, She had more worshippers than I did, but that was alright. I don’t need ritualistic attention. You give me enough when you report to the world about all the deaths happening everywhere. You flatter me, really you do.

When it all boils down, I don’t even have to try to gain power from you. The dead pile up every day, every second. I hardly have to lift a finger.

So I take to your little human streets, dressed as one of you, resembling one of you. It’s not as pathetic as it looks from a distance. After a while I realized I had to disguise myself, because I found that people got rather upset if they saw a seven-foot-tall skeleton roaming the streets at night. None of the parents would let their children play with me. I am okay with that.

Upon closer inspection, I found that you really were quite a bit more interesting and complex than at first I’d thought. I spent more time around you. Running into spats of conversation was inevitable, I knew, but then I discovered that if I told you my real name, people dressed in white would come along and try to make me wear a jacket with ridiculously designed arms. This happened once, and you humans actually gave the event a title. I believe you called it the Port Arthur Massacre.

I met Her, actually, doing what I do and exploring your human world. I actually walked into Her while I was on my way to Big Day Out. It changed my life, if I can be permitted to use that phrase. People started getting edgy when we stood rigidly, silently, unmoving, for at least ten minutes. Then She spoke, and I’d never actually heard Her speak before.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello," I replied.

"Nice day."

"Yes."

She was quite pretty, when I looked. She’d created herself a body that was model-material. Beside Her and Her radiant blonde halo of curls, I looked rather poky and unnoticeable. She raised bare arms and bangles of gold tinkled against each other. "Do you like it?"

I looked about then, taking in the hordes of people, the traffic, the buildings. I didn’t know what to think of it all, really, so I shrugged my rather slouched human shoulders. "Yes, I suppose."

I stared off gloomily at a particular red Volkswagen. I could feel her shifting feet awkwardly. I admit, I would have expected The Meeting to be a grand battle of Good and Evil, that sort of thing. I wasn’t prepared for a casual bump in the street.

Instead, after a few more brief words, we arranged to meet at one o’ clock and do lunch.

Things progressed from there, much more. Her favorite name was Deirdre, though it doesn’t appeal much to me. Still, my chosen name of Ruben didn’t move too much in her, either.

We’ve left the Life and Death business for a while. Let you humans get on with it. We went to Fiji for a holiday.

Deirdre doesn’t like it very much when I ‘accidentally’ step on a small animal here and there. She says I do it on purpose. Then She gives me the silent treatment and usually it’s me who ends up apologizing and planting a tree for Her. Then She gives me this brilliant secretive smile, one that suggests She’s trying to convert me. I not sure if it’s working or not, but so far She’s managed to safeguard the rodent population.

What can I say? It’s too embarrassing. Death is taken with Life.