The voice is crisp and clear. There’s no doubt about it. Blood is pooling around the torso of the man. Milko inches forward but I make a noise. “Don’t touch him–”

There may not be enough time.

I rush forward and grab the bony hand, shoving the cat behind me. “..ngh!” He scratches at me wildly in defence as I yank on the arm. This guy is…heavy! I look up frantically to see if there’s anyone else to help, but all I see is a thick, dark mist, covering the horizon.

Help.

A stinging sensation hits my nose. I suck in a breath and give one final attempt. I grab the man’s body and hoist him up.

…Huh?

Why is it not heavy?

I open my eyes. The body’s still on the floor. Wait, if the body’s down there, then I’m holding up a…

HUHH??????

A burst of light hits my eyes. I squint. In my arms is an unnaturally humanoid visage of a man. Unnatural.

Almost human, but not quite.

“You...”

“Gyah!” I drop the thing and scramble to my feet. I-It spoke! It spoke. It spoke! “Pardon me-e!” I grab Milko off the floor and scram as fast as I can.

“–Wait!”

A strong grip on my sweater yanks me back three feet, whipping me around. “Hah?!”

For the second time, I freeze. Two heads taller than me is a figure, completely draped from head to toe in black smoke. The air turns colder, the leaves break like bones beneath its feet. I can see no face in that hood of darkness, no skin, no hands, no…body either.

Milko hisses wildly, hiding in my clothes. I hold him to my chest. “W-who…” I can barely squeeze out a voice. Tears begin to form in my eyes.

I’m scared.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, you’re a man, for god’s sake! I open my mouth but no voice comes out. The tears start streaming down.

“Wait.”

My eyes dart around for help.

Don’t help him, he’s mad.

Help? What rubbish. I can see the entity.

I’m mad.

I’m mad, I’m mad, I’m mad, I’m mad, I’m mad–

“Stop.”

The hands cover my ears forcefully and I flinch. “Please d-don’t hurt us!” I clutch Milko to my heart. His claws dig into my skin. “Don’t hurt–”

“Hey, hey, uh…be not afraid?”

“But I am!” I slap my palm onto my mouth and stifle the sound. I cannot look. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry…?

I feel a soft feathery touch wiping some of the tears before thinning away. Milko moves to peek out of my sweater. The hands let go of my spinning head, and there is silence. No voices, no thoughts. I slowly look up.

A pair of very bright, very pink, very…kind eyes look down at me from the hood, and what I can only describe to look like a smile peaks out from under the smoke. They don’t have a face, yet I can see them. My heart rate slowly starts to come back to normal.

“Calm yourself. I will not harm you.” The entity takes a step back. I cannot help but look at the long black staff tied to their back. It is most definitely a scythe.

“I…died?”

“Uh, no. No, you are not dead,” The pink eyes look me up and down, perplexed. “But you can see me, and well, frankly speaking…” The eyes hover like little soul-fires in the darkness of the smoke. They look at the man on the ground, whose spirit is now held in place by a glowing pink cord, and back at me. What was once an echoing boom of a dual-toned voice in my ears, softens to a deep and surprisingly gentle human voice of a man, “…You just helped me finish my job.”

I gulp and look at the blood around the stiff body. The rotting smell is slowly seeping through the clothes. I look back up at the floating pink fires and the bound spirit behind them. Did I…

“No you did not kill him. He was already dead. I am here to collect his soul, which you so kindly pulled out in advance.”

“Am I going mad?”

“No.” He scratches his head. “Frankly, I do not know how you were capable of drawing out a soul but...” He takes a step back and pulls out a tiny black device from the smoke, “Give me one moment please.” He puts it to his ear and paces back to the body on the ground. “One moment.”

Huh. This spirit just asked me to give him a moment.

He has a phone.

I pulled out a ‘soul’ from a body.

Milko is not afraid of him.

Surely, I must be going insane. No, perhaps what the Shamans said is true. Or maybe I’m dreaming?

After a few moments of solemn ‘mns’, he reaches an agreement with whoever was on the line. He walks back over. “Stand aside.”

I obediently take three steps back, watching in awe as his hand wields the scythe. In a motion swifter than I can trace, the ‘soul’ of the body is pulled asunder and scattered into tiny flickering droplets. The pink cord glows and floats to him as he holds out a small notebook in the other hand. He drips the droplets of the soul onto a page with the tip of his weapon, several colours swirling across the space until a strange script appears and a faint wail hums from the book. Then he shuts the book in one snap. “Thank you for your aid, intentional or not.”

“Huh?”

“His soul was stuck in his body, until you came along.”

“Oh. Okay.”

What is a soul anyway? I don’t fucking know! This is all just a fever dream. Surely it must be that.

“You are not dreaming.”

How did you–

“I can hear you.”

“…Oh.”

Tying the cord back onto his scythe, he looks up at me, “To reclarify: You are not going mad. This man had a stroke, around ten minutes ago. You saw his soul. You pulled it out of his body because your instinct told you to.”

“So this is all real?”

“Yes.”

“…I couldn’t have done anything to save him?”

“Everyone is fated to pass on someday. It is not up to you, human.”

I don’t dare question the ‘fate’ he speaks of, but I can’t help but feel a bit scared of what’ll happen to Mum. I don’t want her to die of pain. I don’t want her to die at all. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the smoke surrounding us flick against my wrists. “I–ow!”

Milko shoves his head out from my sweater, smacking his head against my jaw. I wince and rub my chin. “This bastard cat…”

A cold hand brushes against my neck, I instinctively jerk back and look up. “Don’t hurt me!”

The entity gives a soft chuckle, “Sorry, human. I could not help myself. Your cat looks very…fluffy.”

I look down at Milko. His hair’s standing up due to the static. He really does look fluffier.

“Souls are the fibre of one’s existence,” He starts, strapping his scythe back onto his back, “What you mortals call spirits, are nothing but what we call souls. There are many colours to one’s existence. Your languages have many ways to describe them.” He inches closer and looks at Milko, then at me. Is he…asking for permission to pet the cat? He gives a small nod.

“I didn’t know grim reapers liked cats.”

“Oh, I am no reaper, human. I am Death. Well frankly, that is what most call me.” He reaches out again and scratches Milko’s ears. “And yes, who is to say one cannot like cats?”

…

…Milko is purring? Milko is purring. Death is petting Milko. A literal concept, is petting my cat. I am letting Death itself, pet my cat. “…I suppose he has nine lives for a reason.”

Death looks at me, puzzled. “Your cat is not going to die just because I pet it.”

“His name is Milko.”

“But all life comes to an end eventually.”

“Well, then maybe I’ll see you in another sixty-seventy years from now.”

“Ahaha!”

Huh? He laughed?

Death leans forward and chuckles, balancing his weight on his scythe. His eyes blink in and out of the smoke, like flickering lightbulbs. “You are the first human to say that you will see me again!” He puts his hand on my head and I feel a strange current pass through me. “A blessing! For you, little human.”

“Huh?!” A blessing? Just like that? “But why?” I touch my head and feel nothing but cold fingers through my hair. I whip my hand back down.

He grins, eyes still flickering like two little flames, “What is the name you go by here?”

“I…I’m Yin.” My last name is Rivers because my mum found me floating in one, but I don’t really want to tell him that.

“Yin Rivers! I will remember you.”