"Wow Adrian, you're good at this. Not like my mom. She pulls my hair more that brushes it because she's always in a rush." Katy said.

Once—just once—the Reaper failed to reap.

"When I'm done with your hair do you promise you'll help me with my costume?"

Emily was so excited that Daddy was able to come to Career Day at school this year. Suzie Collins was so smug about her mommy the doctor last year, and she never believed that her dad was THE Grim Reaper. Now who was gonna be smug, huh Suzie?

Everyone says Death is inevitable. Everyone says Death is scary. Sheila only knows Death as her uncle, who buys her presents and brushes her hair for school when Mommy has to leave the house early.

Emily turned off the tap and watched as the water, faintly tinged pink, circled down the drain. She turned to her new friend with a look of concern. "You have to get ALL the knots out before I go to the party with you."

Death always made time for little Nephthys — he called her Neppy. A 24/7 workload was no barrier to his joy of fatherhood.

Girl: I wanna be just like you when I grow up daddy!

Like all hatchlings, the young chick was never going to be as warm as it was before emerging from its shell.

Ever since we started breeding our ships, escape pods have always been a bit of an irritation for me. Emerging needing a shower, a change of clothes and smelling like satsuma. Just hoping I don't smell delicious to the local fauna like the last time.

"Hmm... No flying cars yet? I'm gonna hit the snooze button."

There was danger in the darkness. Creatures lurked about in great numbers; they would eat anything that moved. Every evening she sought shelter in the cave. At its portal, the Guardians anxiously waited for her return. Most of the creatures knew better than to enter the cave; the bones of those not as smart littered…

I knew a man so pale that you would think he was an albino. His skin was so translucent that he never went without long sleeves and pants and a big bucket hat, even while in doors. I met him on a guided trek across southern Mexico. For weeks we travelled from one sweaty humid pyramid to another. We wrestled our way…

Living, if you could call it that, beneath creation - and amongst others fallen like me. Day upon day slides into months, years even; I find my lot as cast upon the rocks like a wayward wave, let to contemplate my actions and perhaps atone for them in some respect - for if I do not, I become one of those around me. My…

Goddamn it. He'd done it again.

The frigid air helps mask some of the smell, so that's good.