Hello, My Name is Sheldon. Better known as Death.





You may laugh at my name, and laugh all you want. I’ll even amuse your little human mind more by letting you know my middle name is Lenard. But, be warned- I will be able to get you back for your little chuckle. I can make your transition to the after-life slow and painful, filled with terror and horror beyond your wildest imagination.



Now then, my name is Death. No, I am not some emotional teen who wears black, slurs words, and has an addiction to pain. (Pain, who so happens to be my cousin, is actually quite a sweet girl). No, I am the real thing. I am indeed death. Though why my mother, Balance, decided to name he Sheldon I will never know. Here are a few things you should know about me.

1. Orange is my favorite color

2. I enjoy the sound of ocean waves

3. I hate War; he gives me too much work

5. You humans have not a clue of what really goes on behind your everyday lives.







That’s right, you have not a clue. You have no idea on how much work goes on “back stage” if you will. There’s me, my sister Hope, my mother Balance, my father Judgment, my grandfather Creation, my aunt Peace, my uncle War, and my cousins, Pain, Wisdom, Love, and Want. We’re all one big happy family, forced by some sort of god or king or someone to serve you humans.




Don’t even try to ask me who that all-powerful person is, I don’t even know. But he (or she) is there watching everyone’s every move. Honestly, I guess they have it worse than me. At least one day everything will die, and there will be nothing left. Then I can go into sweet retirement. The big guy though has to keep working and working forever. Now that is a crappy job if you ask me.



Well, I didn’t start writing my passage in this little book my Grandfather is making me write to complain. This is supposed to be a short autobiography. It’s going to be all about little old me. Supposedly, a lot of you humans are very interested in me, so I will answer all of your questions. Now, let’s get started, shall we?


I, like everything and everyone, have a beginning.

Yes, even I the great and mighty Sheldon Lenard Death was born from the womb of a mother. Though, my birth was some sort of complicated… Unlike you humans, I was not exactly made by, what you call, “the birds and the bee’s” or something or other. No, here is how I came to be.

It was a very long time ago, when the big guy was bored and said “hey, how about I create something that can do stuff, but not as good as I can do stuff!” And made animals, and birds, and plants, and of course you humans. God was pretty close to the first humans; he would come down from his thrown and talk with them, walk with them, laugh with them, and just be with them. Everyone was happy back then.

As time went by, the first man and women had children. They raised the children, fed them, and taught them right from wrong. After many years, the first man grew old, tired, and sick. He would lie by a tree all day long, and wish that his pain and age would cease.

When God saw the man’s unhappiness, he came down from the sky and asked the man if he would like to be cured of his pain.

The first man shook his thin, worn face. His hair was no longer on his head, he had no more muscle like he did in his youth, and his eyes were full of wisdom. He muttered with his scratchy, worn voice that he did not want to be cured of his age. He said he wanted to leave the earth, and go back with God into the sky.

God, at first, was almost hurt that the first man wanted to leave the paradise God had created. But then, God felt touched that the first man wanted to go home with him. God agreed, and took away the old man’s life. That moment, I was born. That moment I moved the first man to the other side. That is how I came to be.


How my job works

Step 1, Someone dies

Step 2, I ask for their name, age, and cause of death

Step 3, I walk them to the light.

Oh how I hate step 3.

When someone passes, their beings, or souls, or whatever you want to call it, comes to me. I have a huge chart, and I mean a huge chart I carry with me. I would love to keep all my all my information for my work on a mac book or some other awesome, expensive tech thing, but Creation insist we keep to more traditional matters. I suppose though a quill and parchment is better than rock and a carving tool.

Anyway, when I person dies I collect their information. I wrote a short play to show you exactly how it normally works.











You’re Dead








(A short play by Sheldon Lenard Death)

Ignorant human: *looks around* Is this heaven?

Death: No, what’s you’re name, age, and cause of death?

Ignorant human: Are you god?

Death: Yea, sure. Now tell me your name, age, and cause of death.

Ignorant human: Have mercy Lord!

Death: *sighs* Look, tell me and you can go to heaven. Ok?

Ignorant human: *Gives information*

Death: Thank you, now this way please. *Leads human to the light*








FIN




That is how my jobs normally go. That in your time is 0.000008 seconds your time. My time works much differently than yours. Balance and Creation were able to make some sort of compromise between the big guy so that time moves differently so that we can kind of have a life outside of you humans. (Death have a life. Wow. I amuse myself.)




You may be wondering, since I mentioned above, why I hate step three: walking people toward the light. I hate it because I’m just slightly jealous of you. You get to have an end, and you get to see what’s on the other side of that strange and mysterious light. You get to enjoy the color orange, and the sound of ocean waves against the beach. You get it to choose what you do, while I just have to do what I’m told. Sometimes, when I walk someone to that light, my heart breaks. I wish someone would walk me to my light. I wish I had a choice.




Anyway, now that I’ve finished complaining for today, let me continue my story.


I have a favorite memory, and it was the best moment I have ever experienced.

My memory was a very long time ago. But it feels like it was just yesterday. And, believe it or not, this memory involves a human. Though, I still don’t believe she was human. She had so much to her, she was very different.

A few things about Willow James

Her hair was black like raven feathers

Her eyes were big and brown, and looked like melted chocolate

Her skin was burnt off

Willow was a young girl; she looked like she was 8 or 9 human years. She tried to hide at first, which was strange. Usually, people come straight toward me.

“I won’t hurt you, you can come with me.” I said trying not to sound too irritated that she was delaying me.

“Where’s my brother? Did you save him too?” She asked me. Her voice cracked like glass, and her tone concerned. I quickly realized she had no idea she was even dead.

“Come here,” I said, a little more gently.

This time she did come out. Her skin was burnt badly, some places there was no skin, and she looked frail and weak. Still her eyes looked so innocent, brown, and pretty. “What’s your name, child?” I asked her.

“Willow, Willow James.” She said. I wrote it down. Her soft eyes watched my hands curve and turn. “What’s your name?” She asked me, moving a little closer. Slowly beginning to trust me.

“Sheldon,” I said, looking up at her.

She nodded her head, approvingly. “That’s a nice name,” she said. Then she looked down. “Sheldon, did you save my brother?” She asked. “His name is Peter, he has dark brown hair and green eye’s. He’s this tall,” she said, putting her hands right above her waist. “He just turned four.” She finished. I was touched by her concern. So often, people are worried about what will happen to them. She worried about her little brother.

“Your brother is safe, Willow.” I said to her. She smiled, relieved.

“Thank you,” she said.

Willow then began to tell me what happened. She said it happened when she and her family were asleep by the fire. She said a spark must have come from the fire, and lit the rug. She woke up for only a minuet, and saw her brother still sleeping. She dragged him as far as she could to the door, but she tripped and hit her head. Then she came here.

“How old are you?” I asked her.

“Almost 9.” She said. I shuddered. The thought of that girl burning sent chills up my spine.

“Willow, I want to show you something.” I said, and took her hand in mine. She did not argue. I held her hand carefully, and walked her toward the light. “Go that way, that way’s home.” I said. She began to walk toward the light, and then she turned around.

“Are you coming?” Willow asked. Again, I was touched by her kindness and concern.

“Someday, but not today.” I said. She nodded.

“Thank you, Sheldon.” She said, and smiled. For just a brief moment I saw how she looked before the burns. It was probably just my mind playing tricks, but I swear I saw her. She had copper skin, and long beautiful black her. Her eyes were still like melted chocolate.

Willow left then, but I still remember her. She may not remember me, but I remember her. She was the one who made me think not all humans are that bad. If you ever see her on the other side, I suggest you talk to her. You’ll know who she is, and you won’t regret it.


My words of wisdom before you move on to the next chapter.

Love your life, and welcome me. Enjoy the little things that you find. Have compassion for others, and never forget your favorite memory.

That is all I have to say. I’ll see you soon.
- Sheldon L. Death