Kinky Bones

by Al K. Line

Death sliced a vague blurry outline I assumed was a finger through the air and the pen slashed harshly at the page.

  I wobbled, I went all fuzzy, and then he spun his scythe right at my neck, as if to prove his point.

  I gasped, sucking down air and brick dust.

  As I scrambled about amid bits of wall, I poked at my forehead, my finger going surprisingly deep before it popped out as the wound healed, and I stared up at the barrel of a gun.

  "That's very impressive," said Mabel. "Let's see how it goes this time."

  She pressed the barrel against my forehead, the steel burning hot, making my skin sizzle. Her trigger finger twitched a moment before my head exploded.

  I ducked down and clutched my head then sat on a pebble beach in what I was now sure was my afterlife.

  This was it. I was already dead after the first shot and this was my purgatory. To relive over and over the final moments of my life until I was driven insane and there was nothing left of the old Hat.

  Or, and I was kind of banking on this one, I was being fucked with by a deranged witch and Death was pissed off with me so wasn't being much help.

  I needed a plan. And quick.

  Death appeared beside me, holding the ledger in one hand, quill in another.

  "You're beginning to annoy me," he said, sounding so depressed I wanted to give him a cuddle.

  "And you're beginning to make it fucking hard to be your friend. What is this? Why are you doing this?"

  "I'm not doing anything. You have your extra lives, so I'm letting you use them. What else am I supposed to do?"

  He had a point. "Um, you could delay things a while, leave me looking dead for a few hours, then I could make my escape."

  "That's not how it works."

  "It works however you want it to," I shouted.

  "Correct."

  And with that, Death crossed out my name for the third time in as many mortal seconds.

  Oh

  I could still hear the crack of gunfire, and I panicked. More than that, I utterly freaked. Even as I was considering freaking out, then proceeding to do so, I lost the ability to think. I felt my brains being blown out the back of my head, sensed the loss of the old gray matter as a bullet exploded through my skull, splintering bone. I'd come back a split second too soon and was still experiencing the effects of the death I'd returned from.

  Mabel stepped back, seemingly satisfied, as I gasped and felt consciousness return, and with it one hell of a pain. I felt the bone snap back into place, neurons reconfigure, and the hole in my forehead close up, slower than last time.

  Mabel actually looked surprised, and I guess I did too. Who wouldn't?

  "You really are the lucky one, aren't you?"

  "Yeah, that's me. Mr. Lucky," I gasped, clawing at the bricks, trying to get up and away from this Groundhog Day of death.

  "Oh no you don't," she said with a tut. "Stay right here. I haven't finished with you yet."

  "Let me guess, you want to tell me off then send me on my way?"

  "Not quite. Let's see how long this goes on for."

  Mabel took careful aim then shot me again.

  Getting Miffed

  I hardly had time to see the quill flick ink and the ledger slam shut before Death swung at me again.

  "Hello," said Mabel.

  I gasped, "Hi."

  Mabel pulled the trigger.

  On a Loop

  I opened my eyes.

  The quill struck the page.

  Death swung his scythe.

  I gasped, then smiled at Mabel. "Guess who?"

  "My, this is fun."

  Mabel fired.

  Ad Infinitum

  The quill struck. Death swung. I gasped.

  The gun fired. I died. The quill struck. Death swung.

  The gun fired. I died. The quill struck. Death swung.

  The gun fired. The quill. Swing.

  Gun. Quill. Swing.

  Dead. Dead. Dead.

  On and on.

  How many bullets did this woman own?

  How many more chances did I have?

  Gun. Quill. Swing.

  Gun. Quill. Swing. Duck.

  "Ha, you missed." I smiled a smug smile but it soon faded as Death just waved a hand and I returned to the land of the living.

  "I knew that bloody scythe was just symbolic," I muttered.

  "What's that?" asked Mabel.

  "Oh, nothing. Carry on."

  Mabel shrugged then fired again.

  As the quill dripped ink and readied to strike, I launched forward and grabbed the mighty tome in hands so covered in brick dust they were red.

  "You can't do that," said Death, surprised.

  "Watch me." I clutched the book tight to my chest and did a runner down the beach.

  "This is my realm, you can't run from me," said Death as he kept pace with me, seemingly without effort, while I ran as fast as I could.

  "I can try. I'm fed up getting shot, and you're not being fair. Since when were we enemies? I thought we were friends."

  "You made it very clear we weren't friends last time. I wanted to talk, but you couldn't get away fast enough."

  "I was kind of in the middle of a crisis."

  "You were smoking a cigarette."

  "No, that's not exactly true. I'd finished, and was heading back inside to try to figure out how to protect my family from a raving lunatic."

  "That's just an excuse." Death snatched the book from me and I came to a standstill even though my legs were still moving like I was running. I looked down only to find I was several inches off the ground.

  "Guess I'll stop doing the running thing," I sighed.

  So I did. And Death clicked his fingers and I was back in the world of the insane once again.

  "Can we talk about this?" I asked Mabel as she raised the gun.

  "Nope, I'm good."

  Mabel fired.

  I died.

  This would end soon.

  No way was anyone this lucky.

  Not even The Hat.

  Growing Concerned

  "Hello," said Death, somehow sounding more perky.

  "Um, hi?" I ventured, not sure where this was going, only knowing it wouldn't be in my favor.

  "Are you bored yet?" Death cocked his head slightly.

  "Getting there. More worried than anything. This can't go on forever."

  "True. Nobody has infinite lives. I mean, where would the fun be in that?"

  "Fair point. So, what's up?" I clambered slowly to my feet, the pebbles hurting my knees, although they should have been the least of my concerns.

  "You don't want to know. You're just making conversation so you don't have to go back and lose yet another life." Death looked skyward and held out his hands. The ledger landed in his outstretched arms with a thud and the familiar dust. Guess he was feeling a little better.

  "I admit, I'm a little preoccupied, but I thought we had an understanding. I know I was mad last time, but there's something up. You can tell me, maybe I can help."

  "You can't, but you can." Death sounded conflicted, as though he was holding back on saying something. Why can't people, and immortal entities, just get to the point?

  "If you don't want to tell me..."

  "It isn't that." Death glided close and whispered in my ear, "There are rules."

  A shiver ran down my spine, his words like worms wriggling into my brain and chewing away important bits. "You're fed up. It's getting boring. But you were happy before. Can you tell me anything about that?"

  "Not really. There was a chance, of change, but it fell through. That's all I can say."

  "Nothing else?"

  "No. If you were... Ah, never mind. I can't discuss it."

  "If you're sure?"

  "I am." Death's shoulders sagged; he really was in a bad way. What could this possibly be about? What was affecting him so deeply? And how badly would this impact on me and my current predicament?

  "Hey, don't suppose you can tell me how
many entries I have left? I'm getting a little stressed that the next bullet could be the final one."

  Death glanced down at the ledger, quill suddenly in hand, and struck a line through my name. "One less than before, that's all I can say. But my advice, if you want to live to a ripe old age, is to be careful about getting killed from now on. I know what you wizards are like, you always meet a gruesome end eventually, so if you want that to happen then don't keep getting shot at such a young age. You're only in your forties, you could have many centuries if you play your cards right."

  "Thanks for the heads-up." I felt worse than ever. A beautiful, long, exhausting, and stressful future awaited me if I stopped getting caught up in stupid shit. I merely had to figure out a way to avoid said nonsense.

  "My pleasure." Death kicked at the pebbles with feet clouded by mist, sending them sailing through the air. They landed in the water with a plonk. What was with this guy?

  "Is there anything I can do to help?"

  "There is, but you can't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I can't tell you. The rules, remember?"

  "Yeah, right. Can I guess?"

  "No, because you never will. And I'm not allowed to help."

  "Man, the law's tough around here, isn't it?"

  Death nodded.

  "So," I said, rubbing at the pebbles with my foot, not sure how best to approach this. "Um, don't suppose there's any way you can help me out here?"

  "Can't interfere."

  "Right. Um, what about letting me stay for a while so she thinks I'm dead and just buggers off somewhere?"

  "No can do. It doesn't matter how long you stay here, at least as a mortal, when you return hardly any time will have passed. Or, hey," Death brightened, "maybe years will have passed. It's out of my control. It's all built in, works however it wants."

  "Ah, right." I tried to think back to all my previous deaths; it was always a second or two I was gone at most. Guess I'd drawn the short straw when it came to being lucky in death. Apart from the extra lives, of course.

  "So... Any news?" asked Death.

  "You know, the usual."

  "Right."

  "What the fuck is wrong with you?" I spluttered. "Of course there's news. I'm facing certain death as I keep getting shot in the fucking head!" Looking back on it, I may have overreacted. I certainly misjudged how much of a downer Death was currently on.

  "I knew you were mean!" Death clicked his fingers and I was gasping for breath once more.

  I put my fingers to my eyes as I couldn't seem to see out of the left one. Hardly surprising, as when I poked around all I felt was a gaping hole.

  "Ugh, so gross," said Mabel with a frown.

  "Then stop fucking shooting me in the face," I screamed, losing my cool entirely, panic settling in and making itself at home for the foreseeable future.

  "When you stop returning to life, I'll stop shooting." Mabel slammed a cartridge into the underside of the gun with a loud snick, then took aim once more.

  "So you haven't run out of bullets and decided I'm too much of a danger to you and you're gonna do a runner and give up all plans to dominate the underworld?"

  "No, but I do have a nice surprise for you."

  "And what's that?" I may have squealed a little at this point as my eyeball popped back into existence and the result was me with a finger stuck fast in newly formed gelatinous liquid. I pulled it out with a sickening squelch and moments later the eyesight cleared and all was right in the world. Not.

  "You can have a choice this time." Mabel reached behind her and pulled out what looked suspiciously like a short sword. It shone bright even in the gloom and through the still falling brick dust. Looked as sharp as Death's.

  "I'll stick to the gun if you don't mind."

  "Thought you'd say that. Blade it is then," she chirruped happily.

  And with that, quick as a flash, Mabel pounced on me. The last thing I saw, and felt, was the sword arcing before it hacked right into the side of my neck.

  Decapitation by witch, who wudda thunk it?

  A New One

  "That's it," I mumbled. "You have to do something."

  Death looked down at me for the longest time, then, ever so slowly, he began to vibrate. As I stared, the vibrations got faster until his whole body was shaking so much I thought he'd rattle himself to pieces.

  "What? Are you laughing? What's so funny?"

  "You look so silly," he chortled once he got himself together, which was more than could be said for me. "Your head is under your arm."

  "I know that! She chopped the bloody thing off. But this is on you. There's no reason why I shouldn't have my head where it belongs when I'm here. It's degrading."

  "Sorry, thought it would make it a little more interesting. I assumed you'd like it."

  "Like it? Like it! Of course I don't bloody like it. I'm dead and my head's been chopped off. What's there to like?"

  "Keeps things fresh." Death shrugged.

  I put a hand to the space above my shoulders, pleased to find my head was there. No hat though. She'd knocked my bloody hat off. This was going too far.

  "I'll give you fresh," I snapped.

  "What does that mean?"

  "Um, not sure," I said, deflated. I think at this point I was becoming somewhat depressed.

  Here came the ledger. Here came the quill. Here came another strike through.

  "Just send me back. I'm not in the mood for this."

  "As you wish."

  Death readied to swing his scythe at my neck.

  "Seriously? Don't you think that's in rather bad taste?"

  "Oops. My bad." Death chuckled, then clicked his fingers. Guess he'd at least cheered up.

  This time I was ready.

  I had a cunning plan. That, or it would all go tits up and I'd be back before Death stopped laughing.

  Make or Break

  "Death wasn't amused by that," I said, making sure to stare Mabel right in the eye as I put Grace back where she belonged.

  "I thought it was rather entertaining," she said, smiling wryly as she stepped away after hacking my head off.

  I couldn't help wonder how it looked to her, seeing my head pop back into place and all the grisly regrowth that went along with it.

  "He didn't. I mentioned you, you know. Told him who was doing this, who was causing him all this trouble." As I spoke, I winced as I angled sideways on my uncomfortable bed of bricks as if I was trying to ease my obvious pain. As the Velcro ripped, I coughed to cover the noise. Not that she was worried about me reaching for Wand anyway. She knew as well as I did that he was useless at the moment, but I didn't want to push my luck, not yet.

  "I'm not the one causing trouble," snapped Mabel.

  "That's not how he sees it. He's pissed off. He's got other clients, doesn't want to keep seeing my ugly mug."

  "So hurry up and die. I'm busy too. You think I want to keep killing you?"

  "You could always stop."

  "I will, when you die for good."

  "Haha," I exclaimed as I pulled Wand out and waved him about.

  "Oh, please. He's useless, we both know that. You're spent, so is he. I know how wands work. I am a witch. A witch who has bettered you, I might add." Mabel couldn't resist smiling smugly at the thought of having finally bested a powerful wizard. Guess she had confidence issues.

  "Then at least allow me to hold him while you administer my medicine," I said meekly. "I don't want to go out alone."

  "So be it. You are a foolish man for believing you could better me. I am more powerful than you, can harness more magic, and look at you, lying down, accepting your fate like the weakling you are." Mabel was full of scorn, and damn haughty with it. Nobody likes a show-off.

  She was right about one thing though, she was more powerful than me, had more control over magic, and was much older with plenty more experience. Not that she'd done anything but shoot me so far, but I'd heard the stories, knew what I was up against.

 
But I had one thing on my side.

  Conviction.

  And Wand, and Mabel, were about to witness just how far I would go in order to win.

  I hate losing, I also hate smug. And haughty. It's so condescending it makes my blood boil. Nobody is better than anyone else just because they have more skill or ability. It doesn't make you a better person, and without humility to go along with it, it makes you a much lesser person than the one you're standing on and lording it over.

  I lifted Wand, currently nothing more than a nice comfortable stick to hold, then made up my mind. No going back.

  As Mabel raised the gun, with a smug smile, ready to play her game of let's see how long it takes Arthur to die for real, I gripped Wand with both hands, turned him horizontal, bent my legs, and pulled him down toward a knobbly knee with every intention of snapping him in two.

  Hard Wood

  Mabel's eyes widened as Wand came at my knee with enough force to break him clean in two.

  You didn't do this, not ever. It would be like a witch breaking the neck of a cat familiar, or strangling her raven. Familiars, sentient objects, wands, staffs, even cloaks—although who in their right mind would want to wear sentient clothing?—were never destroyed by owners as the bond was too great. It was like murdering a part of yourself. No, they passed on when the owner died, a little piece of them along with it.

  But I would do this, I would see it through. My magical will may have been all dried up, same as Wand's, but my will as a man, to do what I said I would, was still intact and I would not be stopped.

  Mabel's arm was still rising and I saw the panic in her eyes. She wanted Wand for herself, knew what potential lay within the faery wood as he aged and matured.

  Wand hit my knee as Mabel fired, the splintering louder than the crack of the gun as the bullet was ejected from the barrel at an ungodly speed.

  Exploding Wood

  The conversation went something like this, all done and dusted in basically zero time. Less a conversation than a rapid exchange of emotions that flowed like words but I knew was much deeper, comprised of feelings, understanding, and acceptance.

  "Hey, what the hell?" said Wand, waking from his slumber as the certainty of my choice of action slammed into his sleeping mind like a shockwave.