Fantastical Ramblings Read Online Free PDF Page A

little black book once more. “I need time
to look in on the Pope. I have to keep tabs on all the assassination attempts
and a few great musicians and artists. There isn’t enough time. Something I
have to do....”
    Death sipped at the drink that was supposed to taste good or
make him feel good but did neither. He watched himself in the mirror behind the
bar. He looked like any other generic, middle-aged male, not too prosperous,
nor too downtrodden, his staff of office hiding as a black umbrella propped
against his stool. The persona fit this neighborhood. He was used to the
instant changes in his appearance. He didn’t like terrorizing people—except
some of the truly evil personalities. When Mother Theresa finally passed on,
Death had chosen to be another elderly nun so as not to frighten the woman. But
that determined lady hadn’t been frightened by life. Why should Death in any
guise scare her?
    11:43:05. A sense of desperate need tickled his senses. The
potential suicide in the corner passed her crisis and decided to give Life one
more year.
    Death followed her onto the street. He had too much to do in
the last seventeen minutes of the year.
    His long staff appeared in his hand, keeping its proper
shape and size—Nine feet of shining ebony, slender top curved into a full
circle. Thousands of facets from the crystal reflected tiny pin-pricks of
light. His black-hooded cloak folded around him. He became one with the
shadows, seeking the source of that last appointment. Only when the candidate,
location and circumstances were chosen would his guise take shape.
    His hands tingled with the power encased in his trappings. His
staff glowed in the reflection of street lamps. Aware, not fully active. Yet.
    Out on the street, Death turned the staff right and left,
seeking. A faint glow emanated from the crystal when it faced right. A very
dark alley. Street lights shot out, garbage piled high. A haven for vagrants,
criminals and violence.
    The appointment book burned with impatience.
    “Just another mugging,” Death sighed. “I’d hoped for
something spectacular to close out the year.”
    The crystal glowed brighter, taking on red tones. “Odd. Red
indicates a death of great importance, someone who will stop time if his, or
her, destiny goes unfulfilled.” That had happened with Princess Diana as she
clung to life for agonizing moments, but others had stepped in to continue her
work. One instance when the victim became more powerful dead than alive.
    While the world mourned her passing, people continued to
make choices and grow through change.
    Death followed the crystal with increasing urgency. For the
sake of all lost souls, time had to continue.
    The woman who had chosen life over death walked ahead of
him, head high, shoulders back. She had chosen life and her posture reflected
reawakened joy and confidence. Her high heels tapped a rhythm onto the sidewalk
akin to the song of life.
    Grunts. Cries for help. Scuffling feet and thumping bodies.
    Death hurried.
    He rounded the corner into the alley. Three Lives standing. One
desperate Life sprawled amid piles of junk and empty boxes, right leg twisted
unnaturally beneath her. The skirt of her red power suit hiked up immodestly
and torn at the side seam. Blood spilled on the pavement.
    11:58:47. In the distance the shouts from Times Square
increased. Close up, one of the standing Lives lifted a gun and took aim at the
Life who waited. A feral smile grew around broken and rotted teeth. All four
Lives were fully conscious. All four knew that Death awaited one of them.
    “Should have given us the diamond ring along with the purse
right off, yuppie bitch. We’d have let you off with a sore head,” the youth
with the gun sneered at his victim.
    The diamond on the woman’s left hand winked in the weak
light, almost as brightly as Death’s black crystal. A cherished wedding ring. A
promise of love. The muggers had broken her leg while she struggled to protect
the