Snippet #1140721

Danse Mors banged his fist on the table. He banged it again just to make his point. Tragically, he had no point. The most frustrating part of Maisie’s argument was that he actually agreed with her. It was infuriating! He was so absolute in his agenda but he could not help the tiny idea that welled inside his throat. When his host came to him and pleaded for his life, admitted his mistake in casting away his existence, Death he was offended, insulted! He would have extinguished him right then and there if he didn’t need a vessel to make his way to the damn coffee shop. So he gave the boy a riddle to solve and if he did, he’d return to his body. So far, no one won. That was the point of death. But he had his vessel and it was as excruciating as the void and yet full of life. Danse had never experienced life. Immortality was like a stasis; a perpetual state of merely being. The humans flitted from one state to another but as they lived, they lived beyond measure. The way music sounded in his ear, the way food tasted in his mouth, all the emotional responses in his body when he interacted with others. It was an explosion similar to the one he felt when he became Death. It was all so new and fragile. But he couldn’t deter. Death was absolute. What he was doing was right; he needed to remind himself of that. Yet his human heart fluttered in panic. In shame at his own betrayal, he opened his mouth to speak but nothing came. He couldn’t trust himself. Whether it was his own experience or an echo of his host, he recalled the mother of this being, stroking his hair and giving him words of comfort. Without thinking, he lightly touched his forehead where she had kissed him. Suddenly, he realized what he had done and looked around the room, terrified at being found out as if his thoughts could be seen. He stormed off, releasing a guttural scream, “Let it all rot!”