First: All the Stars in the Sky........Keagan O’Riley

First Place

All the Stars in the Sky

Keagan O’Riley

Death stands in the middle of the street and watches the rain fall. Around him, humans scurry from one sidewalk to the next, carrying their umbrellas like shields above their heads. If one passed too close, a cold chill would shiver down their spine and they’d start walking a little faster. If they noticed something amiss, they revealed nothing. If they saw him standing in the rain, they didn’t react. No matter how many humans pass him, no matter how close they get, they never so much as glance his way. There was only one human who had ever noticed him. Death often wonders about her. He wonders what she’s doing and who she’s with at that moment. He wonders how many tears she’s shed since the last time they met or if she’s happy. But mostly he wonders if she ever thinks about him. Death stares down at the puddles collecting by his feet, counting the raindrops as they fall from the sky. The streetlight turns green above his head, but he doesn’t notice. He is not the only one. Somewhere in the distance, sirens begin to wail.

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He lifts his head slowly, knowing in his heart that the sirens are too late. They’re always too late. As Death leads the old man away, he counts the raindrops in the sky.

It was summer when he first met her. A summer hotter than any they’d ever known

before.

She and her friends decided to escape the stifling heat in the river that snaked its way behind her house. He remembered it had stormed the night before and the river was full of hidden holes and floating debris. He remembered that one friend wasn’t a strong swimmer.

late. Like with the old man, the sirens got there too

Death heard the call long before the friend got swept under by the raging current. He was watching from the shadows as the preteens frolicked in the water, oblivious to his presence as humans always are. While they played, he counted leaves. He heard them laughing. He heard them splashing and joking in blissful ignorance. He heard someone climb out of the water and walk his way. The girl approached, but he didn’t care. He was busy counting leaves. He waited for her to pass, waited for the shiver that would race down her spine as she walked by, but nothing happened. Instead, she stopped right in front of him. She smiled.

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Time stopped and stared. “Hello,” she said to him. “My name is Via, what’s yours?” Death never got to answer her. He regretted not answering her. Perhaps he could have warned her about the danger. He had never thought to warn them before. Never until now.

As he led the young girl’s friend away, he counted the tears in her eyes—the one called Via.

said. “Something strange happened today,” Death

Fate merely chuckled and looked at his hands. “Everything is strange to you,” he replied. They were standing on a bridge somewhere on the other side of the world, watching the city lights flicker and glitter on a dark horizon. It had been years since the last time they’d spoken and Death found it strange how he had gone so long without realizing this. How long had he been drifting through his existence in solitary silence? He didn’t know and he was afraid to find out. “You spend all your time with your head in the clouds,” Fate sighed into the night sky. “It’s not surprising you find the world a strange place to be when you rarely look at it.” Death shook his head and looked down at the river rushing by below them. Even in this darkness he can see the water churning and swirling around the

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bridge’s thick stone piles. “This time was different,” he said softly. “This time a human spoke to me.” “Oh? And what did you do?” Death’s laugh was bitter. “What else was I supposed to do? I did my job.” He looked up from the dark swirling water and fixed his gaze on the city lights once more. After a moment, he turned towards Fate and asked, “do you think she hates me for taking her friend?” “Humans are fickle creatures,” Fate replied with a shrug. “Maybe you should ask her that yourself.” He had never considered asking her before—had never thought to try. Death turned away from the lights and looked towards the sky, the thoughts in his head swirling around and around like the water beneath the bridge. “You know what?” He said suddenly, “perhaps I

will.”

Death turned to leave and as he disappeared into the night, Fate smiled to himself.

… Death leaves the old man with the other souls he’d collected that day. As he walks along the beach, he notices something strange about the souls waiting there. Normally freshly reaped souls band together, finding strength and comfort in larger numbers, but this bunch is different. This group barely looks at each

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other, instead preferring to sit alone on the sandy shores. He remembers something someone once told him—how Fear can make strangers out of even the friendliest of people. He wonders if Fear is here wreaking havoc again. He scans the beach slowly, taking in the sad faces and confused stares. Perhaps the world had changed while Death wasn’t paying attention. Or perhaps Death had been mistaken about human nature.

Lately, he finds he is often mistaken. “Do you ever get tired of this?” The old man asks, before Death can disappear again. The question is one he hears often from the souls he reaps. Perhaps it’s also human nature to wonder about this. Or perhaps not. Death looks at the old man. “Give me another millennia,” he says. “Then we’ll talk.” Despite the cryptic answer, the old man smiles.

“Do you ever grow tired of it?” She asked him, as he leaned against the hospital window. There was no one else in the room but her and the dying woman. The rest of her family had already said their goodbyes. Via was the only one to linger, the only one to wait for Death to arrive. It was their third meeting and Via had grown

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seven years older, seven years wiser, seven years more beautiful than that day at the river. Death still remembered the first time he saw her, dark hair dripping and tangled over two of the brightest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Even then, with her lanky limbs and freckled nose, he’d thought she was beautiful. Seven years was all it took to transform her into a stunning woman of twenty. “Well?” She pressed, “do you ever grow tired of it? Of being Death?” “I don’t know,” Death looked past her shoulder, watching as the woman on the bed struggled to breathe. She had been struggling for months now. Via had been struggling with her. Cancer is a cruel, merciless murderer. Death had met many of its victims in his years of reaping souls. In the end, they always blamed him for their suffering, even when he was the one to take it away. “I think you’re lucky,” Via sighed, settling against the wall beside him. “You get to travel the world, meet all kinds of people, see all kinds of places and on top of it all, you never have to die yourself.” Death understood this is how all humans would think of his kind—living a blissful eternity while they aged and died in the arms of their loved ones. He laughed a bitter laugh.

it.” “You have no idea how good you humans have

Via gave him a strange look. “What do you mean?”

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“An immortal existence is a lonely existence,” he told her. Outside, Winter listened quietly, nodding along with his words. “Yes, you humans live and die, but you also have the gift of family. Of friendship. Of making lasting connections with others.” Death looked out at the dark sky, counting the snowflakes as they melted on the window. Even snowflakes spend their existence with their own kind, he thought. He watched them stick together to create a beautiful maze of sparkling crystal—a bond that nothing but time could break. “An eternity,” he said to the frozen glass, “is a worthless gift when you have no one to share it with.” The woman’s breath shortened to gasps. They watched in somber silence as her chest rose once, twice, then no more. Sadness wiped tears from Via’s eyes. “There is one good thing that comes from this job, though,” Death said quietly, rising from his place on the wall to walk towards the woman’s bed. He leaned down to help her soul stand and watched as she took a breath—the first unlabored breath in nearly two years of struggling. “I can bring an end to suffering,” he told no one in particular. “An end to suffering and peace to those who need it most.”

It didn’t matter if they blamed him. What mattered was the souls were no longer in pain. This was enough for him. At least, that’s what he told himself. As Death led Via’s grandmother away, he counted the snowflakes collecting in her hair.

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… He doesn’t realize where he’s ended up until he sees the house.

For the first time in his existence, Death hesitates. He knows this place. He’s been here once before. He finds himself wishing he’d stayed to talk with that old man. As if that would solve anything. As if it would’ve kept him from following the call. Eventually Death would have ended up here, he has to accept that. Death stares up at the old Victorian mansion, noting absently how the eggshell paint had faded and chipped away from years of neglect. He takes a breath, remembering that hot summer when everything changed. Back then, the paint had been bright and fresh and untouched by time. Back then, things had seemed much simpler. As Death walks through the door, he counts the seconds in his head.

“What are you doing?” Via’s voice pulled his attention from the window. It had been three years since Via became a nurse, and Death often saw her. Sometimes it was in passing—a shared look as they met in a hall or a glimpse of her tending to one of the many patients that populated the hospital. Other times, he lingered to talk with her.

Then there were the days like today, when Death

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wasn’t completely there in the moment and somehow ended up wherever she was, regardless if the call had pulled him there or not. He hadn’t even realized he’d gone quiet until Via said something. He blinked at her question and looked back at the window. “I’m counting,” he told her. Death was always counting. He counted anything and everything he could think of. Raindrops and snowflakes. Leaves and flower petals. Cracks in the floor, in the wall, in the ceiling. The seconds that dragged by when they were apart. That day he was counting the people that walked by outside. He counted their smiles. He subtracted their frowns. He divided happiness by the pace of their steps and multiplied love by the light in their eyes. Sometimes he wondered what it was like. To be human.

He had never wondered that before, had never known that he could long for something he’d never experienced. Never until then. Never until Via. “Why do you count?” Via bent down to check the man’s pulse. From the look on her face, their time together was drawing to a close once again. Why count? Death looked at the old man and instantly knew his truths. His lies. His dreams and desires and deepest, darkest regrets. With one look, Death could see the entirety of this man’s life. The memories he sees are not always good ones. If life is measured in memories, Death thought quietly, then he had lived more than he’d ever wished.

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“Why do you count?” Via had asked him. “To forget,” is all he told her.

He finds her in the library, tucked into her favorite armchair and surrounded by piles of old books. In the three decades they’d been apart, Via had added a few grey hairs and wrinkles to her collection. Death still thought she was beautiful. He said nothing as he crossed the threshold, but somehow Via still noticed. “I knew you would come,” she says, still staring down at the book in her lap. “How long has it been now, old friend? Twenty, thirty years?” Long enough to count all the stars in the sky and come up short. Death still remembered the last time they’d spoken. How could he forget? She’d blamed him for not warning her. He blamed himself too—for not understanding sooner. For caring about a human’s feelings. “Well come on in,” Via beckons, with a sad smile. “We have a lot to talk about.”

That night, Death was counting the stars. He counted the little ones that struggled to shine through the frozen winter sky. He counted the bigger ones that shone like miniature suns in the moonless night. When the time came, he counted the stars that

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fell through the air as the cars collided before him. One landed on his shoe.

Another floated before his face. He reached out with a gentle hand and watched as it danced between his fingertips before disappearing into the darkness. Sometimes he wished he could disappear too. Somewhere in the distance he heard tires squealing. People shouting. Fear laughing and dancing between it all. It wasn’t until he heard his name that he looked up. He recognized that voice and the face that went with it. He remembered the first time he’d seen those tears.

He’d counted them many times in his memories. “Please,” she cried, “take me instead.” He looked beyond her at the man and woman who struggled to breathe. Their broken bodies had been laid out on the pavement, but Death could tell the ambulance would be too late. It’s always too late. He didn’t need to look to know who they were to her. “Please,” Via begged. “Take me, not them.” He tried to step forward, but Fate held him back with a firm hand. “No, brother,” Fate whispered. “It’s not her time.” He wanted to scream that he understood how things worked. He understood there was nothing he could do but watch and wait as Via’s parents drew their last breaths. He’d learned his lesson already.

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It wasn’t his place to save them. He hated it. Not being able to do anything. He wanted to rage at the unfairness of it all, but mostly he wanted to stop the tears that fell from her eyes. In the end, he did nothing. In the end, he lost her anyway.

… When she told him to leave and never come back, he promised himself he’d respect her wish. Whenever he felt the urge to go see her, he counted. He knew it was for the best. Every now and then, he would catch a glimpse of her from afar—crossing a street, driving a car, walking from a grocery store. Sometimes he’d go out of his way to sneak a peek of her life, but he made sure to keep his distance. He thought it was guilt that made him hope for her happiness. “I regretted it,” she tells him softly. “All those years I didn’t see you, I regretted the things I said. I wished I could take it back.” “You had a right to feel that way,” Death says as he sits on the window seat. Via closes her books and looks up at where he sits, legs crossed, dark eyes searching her face. In all his existence, Death has experienced a multitude of human emotion, but even this couldn’t prepare him for the way Via looks at him now. “Out of everyone in the world,” she says, tears

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shimmering in her eyes, “I should have been the one to understand. I shouldn’t have blamed you, and I’m sorry. You must hate me.” “No,” He tells her, “I’ve never hated you.” Not once did he hold Hate’s hand. “If anything…” He trails off with a slow smile, remembering their meetings over the years, “If anything, I’m grateful.” “Grateful? For what?”

“For having the chance to meet you,” he says. “For having you open my eyes to the world.” Before, he would never have thought to be grateful for anything. Now, he can’t think about the past without wondering how long he would have drifted through his existence if he had never met Via. Death tells her many things that night. How he watched her from afar as he ferried souls into the afterlife. How he always wondered about her happiness and never blamed her for telling him to stay away. How even after all this time, he still thought of the little girl who noticed him on that riverbank and changed the way he saw the world. He doesn’t know when it happened, he doesn’t know how it happened, but somewhere along the way he realized that Via was the first friend he’d ever had. The first, and quite possibly the last. When it’s Via’s turn, she tells him of the years he missed.

“I got married,” She says, her gaze finding focus

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on nothing and everything in the distance, “I married a wonderful man who truly cared for me and our children. It wasn’t a whirlwind romance like in the story books, but it felt magical nonetheless. In the end, though, I realized he never really understood me. I suppose it’s not surprising that we got divorced, but it was a surprise to me.” “What went wrong?” Death asks. He had never understood the human custom of marriage, had never really cared enough to understand it, but he knows the pain of losing a dear one all too well. He’s seen it echo in the hearts of the ones he leaves behind. A broken marriage may not be as severe as losing a loved one, but Death could tell that it left scars just as deep. When he presses for Via’s answer, she only smiles and murmers, “I wish I knew.” After her divorce, Via ended up moving back to where it all began. By then, the children were grown and living their own lives. Via spent the rest of her days reading, writing, and wondering about Death. She wondered how he was. If he was still counting. If he ever spoke to any of the souls he reaped about a girl and a river and a meeting that was never supposed to happen. Sometimes she’d go back to the river. Sometimes she thought she saw Death counting leaves. “After a while, I realized I was waiting for you to come back,” she says. “So I could tell you how sorry I was.”

No one had ever apologized to him before. No

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one had ever had the need to. Death isn’t sure of how to take it, but he’s sure of one thing. He had never blamed her. Not once. “I think I’m ready,” Via smiles softly. “I have no more regrets.” Death stands, offering a hand which Via’s soul takes without hesitation. As they leave the house, he notices her staring up at the sky, a soft, peaceful smile pulling at her lips. When he asks her what she’s doing, she simply chuckles and mummers gently beneath her breath. “I’m counting the stars,” she says. “So I won’t forget.”

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