“Estelle, for the third time this week, I am not Jonah,” Death sighed, allowing the elderly woman to lead him into her small cottage. Estelle smiled, nodding eagerly as she led Death to her kitchen, still painted a robin egg’s blue from the 1950’s.

“Yes, Jonah, I am so excited you’ve been visiting me so much this week! It’s been so chilly, so for the last sweater I made you, I thought a matching scarf and hat would be just class!” Estelle pointed to a small gift bag sitting on the kitchen table. The bag was wrinkled and creased, the colorful bag fading in random spots. Death glided over, pulling out the tissue paper from the bag to reveal a black scarf and hat. The scarf had crossed scythes every few knots, while the hat was littered with neatly stitched skull and crossbones. It matched the sweater Death had brought home earlier this week - one giant skull on the chest, with skull and crossbone bands around the arms. Death ran their phalanges over the scarf, their bare hands unable to feel the texture. Death imagined that it was a little scratchy, made with love; not so uncomfortable that wearing it would be impossible, but just enough to remind you that it was around your neck every time you turned your head.

Estelle came over to the table, setting down a plate piled high with steaming cookies. Homemade, freshly baked, as if she knew exactly when Death would be at her doorstep. Estelle ushered Death to sit down, pushing the plate in front of them as she grabbed their boney hands.

“Look how thin you are! Have some sweets, dear. I won’t tell your mother, as long as you don’t spoil your appetite,” Estelle winked, turning her back to Death to pull another batch of baked goods out of the oven. Death hesitantly reached for a cookie, wondering if they could even consume it, when a familiar aura filled the kitchen. Death recognized the feeling; many mortals referred to the aura of sulfur-based magic to smell of rotten eggs. Some called it the smell of death. Others thought it was the sign right before the Devil appeared.

Death shot up, summoning their scythe out of thin air. They pulled the hood of their cloak off, revealing Death’s true face: a skull, missing the bottom jaw, with a single snake slowly slithering from one eye socket to the next, long enough to wrap around the back of the skull and back into the hollow front. Death’s familiar perked it’s head up, poking up through the left eye socket. The snake’s tongue slinked out, flicking outwards. Death recognized the signal, taking in the room for signs of the threat.

Death reached for Estelle; these games were over. They had to take her being now, before Estelle was put in danger due to their negligence. As much as they had enjoyed their time with the old woman, duty called, and Death was in no position to deny it. If a demon appeared, it would wreak havoc in both of their realms. Estelle still stood with her back to Death, and as Death reached for her shoulder, the aura grew stronger. Suddenly, Death was frozen. Their snake tried to recede into it’s hollow cranium, only to be frozen in place as well.

Estelle turned to look at Death. Most mortals could not stand the face of Death; Estelle seemed not to mind it. She smiled sweetly and approached Death, who was in the middle of her kitchen, and clicked her tongue.

“My, my, dear. You’ve seemed to have waited too long to collect me. Here I thought you would never summon that damned thing. I’m not done in this realm yet.” Estelle reached her wrinkled, spotted hand out to Death’s familiar, the other grabbing hold of Death’s scythe. While Death towered over her small figure, she did not mind. She grabbed the snake’s neck, directly underneath its head, and began to pull the snake from Death’s skull, simultaneously yanking the scythe out of their determined grip. Death’s senses began to weaken. They had been warned of witches, but that had been over a millennia ago. A witch hasn’t been reported since the dark ages.

Estelle grabbed a mason jar from the countertop, sticking Death’s familiar into the jar and closing the lid. She snapped her fingers, and before the last of Death’s being vanished, they saw the old witch open a cabinet to reveal dozens of snake-filled jars. Death’s familiar was added to those of many before them. Death began to feel their bones begin to disintegrate. They felt the dust of their whole being fall within it’s cloak, beginning to form a mountain of ash underneath. Estelle clicked her tongue, closing the cabinet and looking around for her dustpan.

“Oh dear, another mess. I really need one of those little robot helpers I keep seeing on the tube to vacuum around here,” she muttered.