Gotta trust me, here.

you just missed it
no, i swear it just happened
the most amazing event in lifes short span
i can't wait to show you
i can't wait to show everyone
is everyone here?
okay, here goes
no, don't leave i swear i just did it
maybe you have to not watch
please

This is based off a dream I had last night that I'm sure many people have had. I was able to fly, it was awesome and completely real. I could do it on command with a simple trick that for the life of me I can't remember. Hopping my car over traffic, flying to the tropics, just flying. Then suddenly I just couldn't do it anymore. For no apparent reason. People that had seen me do it and were amazed suddenly had no further use for me. The novelty had worn off.

Where to from here, boss?

Okay so this is potentially the first chapter/prologue for a novel I've been mulling over for years. In a nutshell, Death hates his job and quits. People stop dying and we follow how it affects different people. A doctor who gets too full of himself, as well as a couple others. Then when he resumes his position, the effects of the reinstated death take over, slowly going back to normal, the events seeming insignificant

Theodore Steadman had fallen asleep in his chair again. It was becoming a more and more regular thing with his old age. He had been getting in the habit of turning off all the lights and feeding the dog before he sat down to watch the evening news because nothing would get his attention again until the morning.

The lights from the television pulsed like a florescent heart in the dark room, the politicians and newscasters speaking to the comatose man drooling on his worn flannel robe, which he seemed to live in these days. A sharp crack from an overzealous commercial snapped Ted out of his slumber, cutting him off mid snore. The light from the TV blinded him as he attempted to regain his bearings. As he looked around, he contemplated just going back to sleep. There was never a point to do anything productive anymore since Mary passed away.

Mary and Theodore had been married for almost forty years before the accident. Mary had been driving in the country one Sunday afternoon, like she and Teddy would always do. Only this time, he had opted to stay home and work in the garden. This bit of irony always stung a bit. In his grief he would always tell himself the elderly stereotype killed her and kept him from being killed. Aimless driving and the goddamn garden. To further the icing on this delicious cake of irony, neither their classic Cadillac nor the once ornate and extensive garden had been touched since. He even avoided the southern bay window as to never even have to look at either ever again.

With a groan he pushed himself up and out of his chair and puttered towards the kitchen. Stepping over their, his, old as dirt poodle, he reached for a glass and ran the tap. Brown water spat out across the sink for a few seconds until the stream ran clean. He filled the glass and stared at it. He had never been the philosophical type but he found himself wondering what the point was. Some innate and carnal, maybe even cosmic urge caused him to get this, but why? In fact, why anything, really. Standing there for a few seconds, he finally decided to stop being a nancy and drink the damn thing. Downing it in one tip, he walked back into the living room.

The nightly news program had changed to even later programmed infomercial cavalry. He sat and watched Billy Mayes yell into the camera at a presumed audience about the stain fighting power of whatever his new cleaning bit was. Mary had been all about that miracle cleaner bullshit, he thought. That though drove him back to the kitchen to grab his bottle of whiskey before returning to his chair. Maybe Jack will make him and Billy get along a little better, he though chuckling to himself. Poor bastard. Annoying as all hell, but a damn good salesman. Of all the recent celebrities to die, he didn’t deserve to be one of them. The poodle had since made its way from the kitchen to go where the proverbial action was, as little as it may be and laid down next to the armchair.

“What do you think, girl? Would you buy this?” he asked.

The dog sat and only looked up blankly.

“He’s good, I’ll give him that. Could probably sell a refrigerator to the Eskimos or matches in Hell. Wonder if he tried to talk his way out when the big guy himself showed up to take him away. I’d have liked to see that conversation.”

“Oh he did certainly try, but he’s not the first and as sure as I’m sitting here, won’t be the last. And I hope not too, keeps things interesting.” A voice to his right drew out.

“Speak of the Devil,” Theodore said as he took a swig from the bottle.

“No,” the man chuckled, “he’s a different department entirely. Him and Mr. Clouds-and-Harps got their own deal.”

Theodore could see out of the corner of his vision the man talking. An elderly gentleman, like himself but with the outward aura that he just always looked like that. He wore a wool knit sweater vest and business casual khaki’s and those God-awful Croc’s.

“You don’t look like I’d expected,” he laughed, causing the bottle to bounce, “just walk off a cruise or something?”

“Close, actually, I was spending the winter Florida. With all the retired people moving south, it’s just easier for me to live closer to work, you understand.” He said leaning closer with his elbows on his knees.

“Oh, of course I expect traffic is a killer for a, well whatever you are.” Ted said as he handed the bottle to the stranger.

“Well,” he coughed on the whiskey, “technically speaking, you would call me an angel, but as you can see, I haven’t been trying to keep up with that appearance. I feel it over glamorizes what I do, you know?”

“I thought the whole robe and scythe thing worked well for you?” he inquired.

The mans cough turned into a laughing wheeze. “You know, the funny thing is, I never once wore a black robe.” He outstretched his arms. “Look at me, white as a ghost! No pun intended of course. What’s the point in wearing something where if people see me first, all they see is a floating head? Not the image I wanted to go for. As for the scythe, best I can figure was this wheat farmer back in the dark ages who thought he could stay alive by taking off on foot dropped his scythe. Now I wasn’t really in the mood to chase this bastard down to I picked it up and just chucked it at him, Babe Ruth style. Knocked him out and I dragged him away. Simple as that. He must be spreading it around that I had it to begin with to save the embarrassment or something, who knows.”

Theodore contemplated in his haze telling him Ruth wasn’t a pitcher but decided against it, lest he take a Bambino swing at him. He coughed to break the silence. “So do you remember everyone you take in?”

“For the most part, I try my best I really do.” He said with his tone dropping near somber. “I’m not the ethereal being I once could have been so I was cursed with empathy.” He smiled slightly, “Its like the life of an old time traveling tradesman. The classic salesman before everything turned to codes and numbers, phone calls and e-mails, you sold with yourself. You put your all into it and made them believe in what you were selling. You formed a bond with that person, if even for a moment.”

“Except in your case, its free.” He laughed.

The stranger snorted. “Exactly, and they don’t have a choice, they’re taking it whether they like it or not.”

After a pause, Theodore spoke. “So what about this one? Is it special or just another day on the job?”

He took a sip. “Well I can say not many have been so courteous. And this is a damn fine bottle. So yeah, I suppose I’ll remember this little chat.” He said putting the bottle between them again.

“Well while we’re here, do you like it? Just off the record?” Ted asked.

“Like it?” he paused, “I don’t see how anyone would. I find no joy in telling people their time is up. The ones like you are the hardest too. The kickers and screamers annoy me to the point where I’m glad to get out of there.” He laughed.

“Ones like me?”

“The people who are perfectly content with their fate. It always kind of creeped me out. But with how society bombards people with death from an early age, it really isn’t a surprise anymore.” He paused and chuckled again. “Like now, you were more concerned with the way I was dressed. That’s what the Style network does to people. Death comes a’knocking and you comment on his shoes.”

The wind whipped outside, waking the dog who let out a low groan.

“So this is it I guess.” Ted sighed.

Death exhaled slowly. “Yeah, probably about time to get going.”

The bottle was almost empty.

Ted looked at it solemnly before downing the rest in one gulp. He looked back up at the man. “What’s it like?”

He looked at him apologetically, head titled slightly aside. “I wish I could tell you. Like a bad salesman, I have no idea what I’m selling.”

Theodore smiled. “I’ll have to let you know sometime.”

Death smiled back, “I look forward to it.”

Theodore snapped upright. “Wait!” he looked around him frantically before finding the TV remote. “Don’t want to run the electric bill.”

Death laughed, “Frugal old bastard.”

With Theodore on the chair, the dog slept soundly through the night.