The Domain of Death Himself

Xanthus is Death, and Death has a busy life, as you'd imagine. What with the scythe work and the whole soul collecting stuff. His days are long and kind of dull, until he meets a certain, someone.


14. Just give up!

She stared at her son, hatred clouding her already foggy eyes.

                “Well?” He asked, gesturing at her to speak.

“Well, what? There’s nothing to tell if you have nothing to tell me. After all what does a murderer have to say..?” She laughed coldly, baring her slightly pointed but one row of teeth.

Xanthus glared at her with obvious hostility dripping from his gaze. He’d forgotten how irritating having a mother in the picture could be, living on your own for who knows how long made family seem like a pointless noise interrupting your usual peace of mind. Imagine living with her twenty four seven? What hell that would be… That thought flashing through his head made another appear. What if she wouldn’t leave? What if she stayed forever?

His mother regarded him with equal hatred, though buried deep, deep within he know she was just worried about him… or he thought that anyway. That look would be rather tricky to fake…    

                “Can you just leave then, you obviously hate me and I have work to be done at me business, you know Mors Principium est.? I can’t afford to let myself get in the way of your affairs either, of you pop now!” Xanthus grinned at his still scowling mother. She didn’t move or say anything for a while then:

                “I’m calling the police. I won’t have a son of mine in a murder business.” A phone was pulled from her jacket and she dialled two numbers into it then paused. “So?” She demanded. “What will it be then?”

                “Ah… mother… You won’t.”

                “Are you sure, boy?”

                “I’m not a boy.”

                “Well if you’re allowing someone else to run your life I think you are a child!”

                “I can’t help that… let’s say they’re my boss… what about that? I can hardly help having a mean boss. Everyone has one…”

                “Xanthus! Stop this nonsense, I will get you arrested, I can always find you, even if you run.”

                “Mom!” It was the first time is years that he’d called her ‘mom’, it felt odd but rolled off the tongue with ease at the same time.

                “No, boy, you just have to stop with all this and I’ll help you… I promise.” She tried to catch his gaze but he couldn’t look at her, couldn’t meet her white eyes.

                “Mother… please… I can’t… she’ll- No! I can’t! Get away now! Leave, never come back!” Death flipped a hand behind his back and slid his smaller scythe from its place there, but he didn’t want to use that one so he simply used it to hook his larger one into his palm.

                He brushed the blade along his finger tip, caressing it like a cat. A beep came from his mother’s phone and she pressed it to her ear.

                “Police please!” She exclaimed. “Come quickly he has a weapon! Xanthus Malcolmson! Okay! Quickly!” She cried, sounding like a pathetic, scared woman, an obvious act.

                “You’ll regret that!” Xanthus shouted, appalled at his mother’s treachery. He threw his scythe forward and settled it around the back of her neck. “I could slice your head clean off.” He said coldly, all of his joking sarcasm gone. Pure anger filled him. What right did this woman have to control his life? She may have been the source of his life but she didn’t rule it.

                “Go on then.” She said coolly. “Do it. Kill your own mother. Come on Xanthus you still have a chance. They want to arrest you; all it needs is for you to run away with me. I love you son.” She’d taken up a caring mother act which wasn’t at all believable.

                “Do you really mean that?” He muttered.

                “Of course, I do love you!”

                “Not that; the answer to that is blindingly obvious. No. I mean do you mean I can do it. You’ll just let me kill you? Get rid of you once and for all?” His mother’s face went cold again.

                “You’re a fool. I don’t care if you get the death sentence. You need to be stopped. Then I’ll find the one controlling you. I’ll kill them too.” The woman snapped at him with malice, hatred filling her to her bones.

                In one clean move he pulled the scythe forward, letting it slice into the back of her neck, but she was too quick. Ducking she rolled away from him and stood up smartly again.

                “Damn it woman! Just bloody die!”

                Leaping towards her he plunged his fist into her chest, going straight through the flesh and bone straight through to her heart.

                “I’ll do it.” He whispered into her ear. She felt no pain but horror twisted her mouth into a grimace, like she was imagining the pain that should be there. “It won’t hurt. Just give up, give me your life and soul. You will be mine.”

                “Boy. You have much to learn about life, even now. Just tell me who is controlling you.”

                “Oh you’ll be too surprised, You might have a heart attack.” Malcolmson laughed coldly.


                “The devil. Demons in the night. Nightmares. The real death. Him.” And he ripped his mother’s heart from her chest clasping the bloody mess in his hand and pulling it through her ribs, snapping them like twigs in his fingers. She dropped to the ground but was caught by strong hands.

                “You can rest now. Sleep in peace with one final choice. Heaven or hell.”

                “I’ll meet you in hell so I can see you again.”

                “Well say hi to him from me. He’ll be happy to see you I’m sure.” She drifted off slowly, body already long dead but soul just letting go. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

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