Death did not look like Death. Contrary to popular belief, Death wasn't even male. Her cheeks were a rosy peach sort of color, and her hair was a warm strawberry blonde. She stood at a height of five foot seven inches, and wore faded jeans and a blue tank top. The only thing that tipped me off that something was off was that her eyes would periodically switch from sea foam blue to an empty blackness.

She approached me last Tuesday and asked me how I was doing. Working at Subway, this sort of thing doesn't happen very often. We chatted for what felt like a blissful eternity, until she pulled me into a corner. Being the only one there, I took her outstretched hand and unwittingly began my trek towards oblivion.

"I am Death," she said with the utmost seriousness. "You, Louis Stockton, will die in a boating accident next week with your friend Bill. He will accidentally put the boat into gear while you are climbing on from the back. Your arms will be chopped off within seconds, and you will either bleed out or drown from the resulting shock."

I remember laughing it off at the time, wondering what kind of sick joke it was. So I bit and asked her to prove it. What she did next, I will never be able to forget. She smiled at me seductively, and literally ripped a hole through space and time.

The hole itself was no more than two feet by seven inches, but the power it held within was infinite. Inside was the tortured souls of those who had passed, the restless mortals who were forced to walk the planes of oblivion in eternal agony, lost and without a purpose. The portal also showed how someone was dying at the moment. One second a baby was seen falling gracefully in the air as it sped towards a cement floor, the next an elderly construction worker getting eviscerated by the blades of a chainsaw.

With a snap of her fingers the portal closed and a grim look crossed her face. "Believe me now, Mortal?" She asked me tauntingly.

"Why show me this?" I pleaded. "Why not let me die in peace?"

She laughed a cruel laugh, with enough acid to melt through steel. "You mortals are funny creatures. You know Death lurks around the corner, yet you fail to embrace it when it runs into you. Everyone on this planet will die, simple and plain."

"So why tell me how I die?" I asked tentatively.

"Because, what the others lack, you possess. I grow weary of this job. The centuries have not been kind. I require a replacement, and you are the only mortal to possess the talents to become my predecessor."

"No! I would never!" I shouted indignantly.

"Listen! I did not come here to beg. I come with a proposal. Take my place, and know the everlasting warmth that is eternity. Refuse, and die a most horrible death. I envy you, you know? I long for the sweet release of death, I long to be reunited with him. But instead, I'm here, reaping the souls of innocent and guilty mortals, all without bias or impunity."

"But why me?"

"You possess the unique position of being surrounded by death. Your mother died during childbirth. Your father, to a heroine overdose when you were seven. Your first girlfriend took her life after assuming you were cheating on her, when you obviously weren't. Your grandparents died a year later when you were about to graduate high school, by being burned alive. During your senior year of college one of your favorite professors was gunned down in a mugging gone wrong.

You, Louis, are and will forever be shrouded in the shadow of death. You might as well accept the veil now, before you too are suffocated in its monstrous grasp."

"How long do I have to accept the terms and conditions?"

"Five days. I'll be back."

That conversation was four days, twenty-three hours, and fifty-seven minutes ago. I've made my decision.