Don't Blame Me

I am Death. I am everywhere and nowhere. I will come 'as a thief in the night', in full daylight, expected or unexpectedly, in agony, peacefully, singly or by the thousands. Of one thing you can be sure. I will come. Yes. I will come for you.

However, you have no need to fear me. I am not the executioner. I am merely the tool. So, don’t blame me. Others, much more powerful than I, decide the where, when and how, but the ultimate decision belongs to The Destroyer, who has his own reasons and does not share those with the likes of me.

My job is simply to gather the breath of life The One has lent you for your sojourn on earth. I don't decide if you have spent your time wisely, or well. I am simply his servant, a minion. I make no decisions of my own, and I certainly am not responsible for your life, only its transition. I collect you as the deed is done. I am a gatherer not a hunter. 

Don’t blame me.

Why do you blacken my name? I am here to help you.

I am popularly, and falsely, pictured carrying a scythe. In truth, what I carry is this shepherd's crook to pull the will-'o-wisp that you are out from its biodegradable, fleshy vehicle to the safety of my bosom before the underworld Ghouls get you. They are the ones who carry scythes. They are small and cloaked in the shadows of your worst nightmares. They travel in savage, uncontrolled packs of five or more, snapping and snarling, fighting over nothing, over you.

I don't seek to save you because I'm sympatico. Oh no, no such thing. I feel nothing for you. I want only the reward, the reward of a life of my own, promised by The One. He, who makes all such decisions, has given me His word that if I do my job well, I will be allowed to live.

So, naturally, I try hard to beat them to the prize, to you.

But, I must get to you first. It is a race to see if I can rescue you before the Ghouls rip your ether from your dying lips with their ghastly implements forged in the fires below, on the harshest of anvils by hammer-blows of rage and terror. These monsters of the deep subconscious fall on you with their yellow talons and sharp teeth tearing you to shreds.

If I were capable of it, your terrified screams and cries of anguish would move me to tears, would numb my mind and paralyse my actions. You should be grateful I have no such empathy, or many more of you would endure the agonies of being torn into oblivion.

Horrifying, isn't it? 

But, be calm. I am good at my job and almost never fail. I say almost because, sometimes, you have become so burdened by the life you led that you are heavy and slow; or so lacking in substance, it makes my gathering difficult. Don’t blame me, if, occasionally, I have you snatched from my hands. However, I have saved many — some of whom you would judge that I should not have.

You can judge all you like, but it is not up to you, or me, to make the final decisions — to move you to a higher plane, to re-incarnate you, or send you off to never-ending destruction. 

So, don’t blame me.

'What kind of God or Gods?' I hear you ask. 'Would allow or want the latter?'

I have no idea. I have not looked on their face. Are you surprised? I was too. Let me surprise you further. Though I have been at hand to help you for an interminable time, I am not the first at this station. No. We have been many and shall continue to be many into the foreseeable future.

My term will come to an end I know not when. Neither do I know why or how I was chosen. I just was. Am. I have no memory of my previous existence if, indeed, I had one. I assume I did on the veriest shreds of evidence.

Sometimes, I turn up somewhere or see a face that is ever so vaguely familiar. Only for a fleeting moment mind, and always just out of reach of true memory.

There it is. My evidence. 

My hope and fear is that full memory will be restored eventually.

In the meantime, I must ply my trade, gather the wisps of you and deliver you to the gates of the far side, where others will do the sorting.

The lightest of you will pass straight through those gates. The others will be held accountable as your life is examined in detail. I believe there are several levels of judgement. I am not sure how all of that works, but in the end there are left the heaviest, most difficult to understand and therefore the hardest to judge.

These appear before The Light and The Dark, The Sun and The Moon, The Beginning and The End where the final judgement is made. Retribution is the right of the Maker and Destroyer. Those of you deemed to deserve it are taken to the underworld for ceaseless destruction of such unimaginable magnitude that you will forever envy those obliterated by the Ghouls.

You see, you can’t blame me.

But come, I don't mean to frighten you. After all, chances are that I shall succeed in gathering you with ease, that you are light enough. 

You have valid excuses for your actions, I'm sure. 

Or, if the Ghouls do get you, after a time (I'm not sure how long or how to measure time in your terms.) you will be obliterated.

Of course, if you escape them, but are so heavy that you are sent to the last judgement then you must reap what you have sewn.

But, chances are that you'll be okay…right? 

Don’t blame me.