If, however, you're already shopping for a Skary print, it's worth mentioning that all profits for "Work to Do" (that's the one shown below) will go to the Red Cross. (All my profits, that is. I couldn't say what happens to ImageKind's profits.)

The text translates to "Children are scary." Extra special thanks to Cymark and Katie for help with the Japanese!

Work to Do

(click to enlarge)

Give Grandma a kiss, whydontcha?

A Parting Gift

It is always here, the gateway into the Hereafter, but no one living ever notices. There is no angel chorus heralding the entrance. It is neither gleaming nor made of pearl. Rather, it is a lonely row of hedges with a modest wooden door just low enough that even the greatest men must enter with heads bowed. Many are they who have entered with nasty bumps on their foreheads.

Here the three travelers stood and pondered what ought to be said. This would normally be when Death wished his companions well and gave them some idea of what to expect on the other side, but his throat felt curiously lumpy now.

Elsie took Death's hand and patted it gently.

"You be all right," she said softly.

Before Death could reply, the gate before them creaked open and swelled to a size just large enough for a humble circus elephant. From within came a hum that only the right sort of person or creature could understand. To Elsie, it was someone calling her name. To Barcas, the distant trumpeting of his kind. To Death, it was nothing but empty air.

"They're waiting for you," he said and then, "Mind your heads!"

But Elsie and Barcas were already passing through. Soon, the gateway was small again. Its little wooden door then closed with an unceremonious thud.

"Oh," said Death.

He sighed and nodded to himself. This was as it should be. It was his job, after all, and now it was time to move on.

Just as he turned around, something light and papery fell from above and landed between his feet. It seemed to the Reaper as if it were intended for him.

It was only a leaf. Just a dried up crinkly thing. But it looked very fine tied to his scythe with a stray bit of thread.

Perhaps, if you are lucky - or if you are not - you will see it yourself one day.

Countess Soap

Elsie

Death, Elsie and the circus elephant wandered in tranquility, each silent in his (and her) thoughts. There was no sound of crunching leaves as they walked, for the travelers were but spirits in the autumn night. The littlest one was displeased with something. It showed on her tiny face, which was presently scrunched up in perplexion.

"What's on your mind?" Death said to Elsie. Barcas, the elephant, made an idle whumpf with his trunk.

"Why they do that?" asked Elsie.

"Why did who do what?" Death returned. He had been thinking of the next name on his list and whether it should be saved for later. He was not certain he could be kind to this one, and little girls should not see such things. Neither, for that matter, should elephants.

Elsie huffed impatiently and pointed to the deep scars and scabs from years of shackles on Barcas' ankles. These would fade as the creature forgot them, and indeed, they were a little less severe than they had been just moments ago.

"Ah," said Death in understanding. "In answer to that I can only say that the circus men are only people, Little Miss, and people do not yet understand the feelings of others. Not all of them, anyway."

Elsie frowned. "Why he not get away?"

"He tried," was Death's answer.

They continued their journey in silence for a time until a very slow and wrinkly voice interrupted the quietude.

It said, "I think that I was very fond of peanuts once."

"Yes. I believe you were," Death replied.

Barcas whumpfed with his trunk again.

"I do not think that I can tell you how delighted I would be if I were to have a peanut now."

"I like peanuts," Elsie quietly agreed.

"Then I am happy to tell you," said Death with a smile, "that where we are going, you can have all the peanuts you wish, and you may have them forever and forever. If you like."

Barcas the elephant and Elsie the child were both very pleased, and Death was pleased for them. But in his heart--whatever and wherever his heart might be--he was also a little sad.

It was time.

It's holiday photo time again. Just do it for Grandma.

Elsie

It was only a leaf. Just a dried up crinkly thing from the dirt. But the kindness with which the child offered it to him was so innocent and genuine that it broke Death's heart to think of what he was there to do. Until now, he had not been aware he even possessed a heart.

"Thank you," Death said quietly. He tucked the leaf inside his cloak where it promptly dissolved into nothingness.

"Where are your parents, child?" Death asked the girl, for he occasionally - when time allowed - gave the little ones a final moment with their families.

The child furrowed her brow. "Um..." was all she said, but it was enough to tell the Reaper what the girl was too young to articulate.

"Oh. Yes," Death said distractedly. "I had forgotten."

The girl blinked up at him and smiled helplessly. Then she coughed an awful rattling cough, and Death remembered that he had work to do. He put all other thoughts out of his mind, lifted his great scythe over his head...

...and found he couldn't. He just couldn't -- not like this. Perhaps I'm getting old, he thought. He sighed and knelt down beside the girl.

"Would you like to be my helper?" Death asked her.

She thought for a moment and then nodded.

"All right," said Death, rising to his feet, "but first you have to close your eyes."

This next part Death did not like so much, but the Long List was not to be altered; this he knew. When the job was done, he strapped his blade to his back again and held out a bony hand into which slipped a very tiny ghostly one.

"Do you like elephants?" Death asked his new companion as they walked. "Next we go to the circus. I'm afraid someone has had a very bad day."

"Elephant sad?"

"I expect so, Little Miss, but not much longer."

It was only for a little while, Death told himself. He would take her across the divide soon enough. But his business was the loneliest sort, and it was nice to have a friend just this once. Surely no one would fault him for that.