by Cobyboy
I nodded along with this. This wasn't the first time the idea to write a book had come to me. I had been thinking a lot up to that point, and I had come to the conclusion that I should be more... transparent and honest with those around me. I am Death, but there's no reason to be cold and remote. There is no reason that I cannot be tender with other Celestials, or make friends, or even find someone to call the love of my life.
A good start to this new protocol would be to make sure my oldest human friend was taken care of.
"Are you happy with your life?" I asked him. I didn't come out and say it, but it was obvious what I was hinting at. Did Mahendra want me to revoke his immortality, like I had done for Lydia?
"When a time comes that I am not happy," Mahendra said, grabbing my shoulder, "you will be the first to know." He looked around. "I love this place. I love everything I have. I've not grown tired of the world and its pleasures. All the wounds of the past... they have long since healed and scarred. In the end, I'm happy for the gift you've given me. I want to show you something, Death..."
He went around his desk, where a computer showed a blank white screen waiting for him to type out the first words of another novel. He squatted down, pulled a few books off a shelf below the desk, and revealed a safe. He input a combination, then pulled out a sealed glass case. A control panel and a bunch of buttons jutted out from the bottom of it.
It was a climate-controlled box. And inside it was a chess set, the very same I had built back in India centuries ago. As far as humankind knew, it was the first chess board that ever existed. The first version of the game. He still had it, after all this time, and I was amazed at the remarkable shape it was in.
"I dare not leave it in the light for very long," Mahendra said. "I think, if I could ever prove its history to the world, it might be worth as much as this entire city... But I would never part ways with it. I mean to keep it forever, and be buried with it if I ever grow tired of Earthly life."
I stepped closer, marveling at the little stone figures and the shoddily sketched tile grid.
"It's beautiful," I said.
"You can make beautiful things, Death," said Mahendra. "This is proof. There is a lot more to you than what you show to Heaven or Earth. Let me show you how to write. And then you can be the one to tell your own story."
***
I guess the rest of the story kind of writes itself. It's funny how that works. You put all this effort into every piece of the tale, getting everything as accurate as you can remember, making sure everything is well-worded. And when you get near the end, your work is finished just when it's finally getting started. The end is the inevitable part, and it really does write itself. You had to work to get there... and then the writing comes alive and wrenches the reins away from you.
And so I have been writing. It has taken me entirely too long to pen this work, but Mahendra thinks it's pretty good so I guess I will let it be the final version. My very first go at it. I guess that's how it should be. A very natural thing. Like a baby bird jumping out of the nest and taking flight. One and done.
Why have I written this? The private reasons are enough. But I felt obliged to come up with something more obvious. Something that will make sense to people who know nothing about me, to entice them into reading the book in the first place. So I went before God and told him an idea I had. And He agreed to it.
This, then, will serve as an introductory reading. Any soul entering Heaven will be handed a copy, and they can choose to read it if they wish. They'll learn all they need to know about how things work, and they will understand that Celestials are really nothing but humans who can't die and who can pull off the occasional magic trick. That's all we are.
So, if you're reading this, congratulations. I guess you're a good person. Maybe I'll see you around.
***
Well... I was going to make that last bit the ending. I was going to set the work aside and move on to the next thing. But then I realized what the real ending had to be, so I picked my pen back up.
There's a lot of things I have never done before. For instance, I have never been to a funeral. Funny, isn't it? I've been there for so many deaths, but I have never once watched as someone's remains were laid to rest in the heart of the Earth.
But I will end my story by telling you this; I finally did go to a funeral. My first one. Probably my last, unless Mahendra decides he's had enough. But I secretly doubt that will ever happen.
It was Lydia's funeral. I felt obliged to show up, on a personal level. It was not asked of me by anyone but the little voice in my head. So I went, stalking invisibly amidst the crying onlookers. Listening to the tearful last words of her closest friends and family. I feel like a lot of funerals probably feel a bit fake, a bit forced, but here it was easy to tell that people really did love Lydia. She had died at the young age of thirty-eight, as I saw when I read her headstone and did the math.
And what was her epitaph? None other than her last words; Checkmate, Death. With an engraving of a king on its side just beneath.
I walked away, smiling to myself.
"You sly devil," I said, and looked up toward Heaven. "Time for us both to go home... the game is over."