The trees had burst into flames with the colors of autumn. Overhead large, gray clouds passively trotted like cattle across the sky. Today, the leaves fell off the mortal limbs of oak trees with grace, softly touching the ground. A half raised flag flapped half-heartedly in the cool wind, looking over it’s desolate empire. A black wheel of a dirty car with chipping paint crushed the fallen oak leaves slowly, creeping along a black road with mechanical menace. The world was a quiet melody, a white noise of dying leaves to accompany the layer of silence. It was beautiful today. Almost nothing stirred, except a figure on the swingset. Two chains complained as they rocked Michael back and forth slowly, softly. The swing was new and bright, like the times he used to know back in elementary school, when the world was perfect, and so was he. Michael’s chest felt inflated. He was breathing hard. A teardrop of blood slid down his face, past an emerald eye, and mixed with a bead of sweat. His legs hurt from all the running.
Today the playground was empty. The loneliness coaxed a single tear from Michael. He sniffed.
“Hello.” Said a voice.
Michael yelped. He shot out of the swing a little too fast, and fell onto the dirty wood chips covering the ground. He looked up, and immediately his face went red.
A girl stood before him, shrouded in light from the sun. Her head moved to block it out, and Michael saw a small, freckled face with ivory-white teeth smile at him.
“Here.” A gloved hand beckoned to him, and Michael took it, using it as leverage to lift himself up.
Michael looked at the girl. She had golden eyes with flecks of silver floating inside. Gold? No, it must be the light. Amber. Her pale face was smooth, with freckles dotting her cheeks.
Michael couldn’t help but stare. She was beautiful, but not like girls you saw and forgot beautiful. There was something special about this girl. Maybe it was the way her thin lips curved ever so slightly into a soft smile that radiated warmth.
Michael realized he was still holding her hand. His face caught fire just as the leaves had.
“I’m Valdis,” Said the girl, ignoring his blush. A red, velvety glove shook Michael’s hand.
“Michael.” The miniscule, insignificant boy managed.
The girl wore a long, dark maroon overcoat, and a gray newsboy cap on her head. Yellow and brown locks of curly hair cascaded out from under it. Her bright eyes shone. Michael blinked.

A black-tinted window sank down like a jaguar, ready to pounce.

“So- what are you doing here?”
Michael looked at the beautiful girl. She returned his stare, unblinking.
“I- was just, uh,” He stuttered.
The girl was still looking at him. God, her eyes were piercing.
“I was just taking a break.” Michael decided.
Valdis smiled. “Cool. I like to take breaks sometimes too. From all...that.”
The radiant girl spread her arms and gestured to the surrounding, silent world.

A car door opened on the empty street.

Michael smiled for the first time today. “Yeah.”
Leaves tumbled in a sudden breeze that filled the gap of quiet.
Michael cleared his throat. “So- you go to school around here?”
“No, I’m just visiting.”
Of course she is. Thought Michael. His heart sunk.
“Oh. How long will you be here?”
The girl’s resting smile faded. “I- don’t know. It-”
She sat down in a swing. Michael mirrored her.
Valdis looked at Micael. “Long enough, I guess.”

A torn, brown sneaker crunched a group of leaves into the asphalt. They screamed and died quickly.

Michael was perplexed by this answer, but his puzzled thoughts were interrupted by a question.
“Do you know what I do when I need to get away from things?”
“What?”
“I run. I run as fast as I can all across-” She stopped. “All over my town. It’s like outrunning the problems, right? Like my troubles can’t catch me. Except, when I get back to the things I do, they all come flooding back.”
Michael nodded. The girl gave a small chuckle.

A leather-clad hand reached into a stained sweatshirt pocket. The wind stopped.

Valdis jumped out of her swing. “Wanna run with me?”
Michael got out of his swing, making sure not to fall this time.
“Sure.”
Valdis took off with lightning speed, and Michael, with a bit of hesitation, looked around. Nobody was there except a young man listening to music as he walked down the street and another man in a hoodie with his hands in his sweatshirt pockets. Creepy. The two seemed to have both stopped doing whatever they were doing at the moment. Michael could have sworn he saw them move, ever so slowly, but that was stupid, They were just… stopping for whatever reason. Maybe they needed a break too.
“Michael!” Yelled Valdis, and upon hearing his name, Michael was snapped back to reality. “I’m coming!” He yelled, and jogged after the girl..
Valdis seemed to be sprinting as fast as she could. Michael jogged behind her uncertainly. She turned, sprinted back, and grabbed Michael.
“Come on!”
Michael looked at the figures behind them now. They stood idly by like they had been doing a couple minutes ago. Then he turned his attention to the girl beside him, clutching his arm and smiling, her bright eyes exploding with boundless energy. He burst through the autumn air, dancing leaves streaking past him, waving goodbye as his footsteps pounded into the cold track lining the park.
Oxygen flooded through Michael’s lungs and was exhaled with force. He thought about the bullies, his backpack, the rocks, and the streams of blood that had hardened on his face. He touched them as he ran. A small red print remained on his fingertip. Michael raced faster.
Racing feet thundered as he and Valdis shot down the track outlining the park. Beads of sweat condensed on Michael’s face. The dried blood began to release its grasp on Michael’s face. Michael cleansed himself of it with a wipe of his sleeve. Valdis yelled as they tore down the path like mad horses, free of saddles and stables. Michaels rushing legs ached, but he continued on. The girl laughed, and took her hat off, letting her golden hair flow behind her. Looking at the golden beauty before him, Michael could not help but smile with gritted teeth. Then he laughed. The two horses raced around the track, not caring who heard them. It was a good run. Not the kind that involved stones and backpacks and dried blood rivers.
Michael and Valdis, arms linked, passed a gray sweatshirt. A hand was pulling something out of the pocket, yet it seemed like he was retrieving it incredibly slow. Michael didn’t have time to think about it, for his gaze was diverted back to the hooting and laughing of Valdis down the black path.
The two children ran back to the swings. Michael was out of breath, panting and laughing. The girl was not breathing hard. In fact, she wasn’t even sweating. All she did was smile and laugh, as if they didn’t just sprint as fast as they could.
She must run a lot.  Thought Michael.
The two of them sat in the swings once more. All around them the trees rustled. Red and brown leaves twirled to the ground in a deathly spiral. The trees were becoming bare, flowers were shriveling up, and the grass was becoming devoid of life.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Michael looked at the world, then at the girl. “Yeah.”
Valdis closed her eyes. She began to sing.

“Oh, little Daylily,
what will you do,
when all that you see,
closes up around you?

Oh, little Daylily,
Why can’t you see?
The whole world is dying,
just for you and me.”

Michael looked around.
The trees, the grass, the flowers. The world was dying. The sky above them burst into flames as it’s time began to run short.
It was beautiful.
“That was a pretty song. Where’d you learn it?”
The girl gave a sad smile. “A long time ago.”
Michael nodded.

A hand pulled a metal bud out of the sweatshirt pocket. Slowly, slowly. It was not ready to bloom yet. The seeds were clipped in, ready to sprout.

The girl looked at the man with the bud. She got up suddenly.
“Michael, I need to tell you something.”
Michael looked up at his new friend.
“Yeah?”
The girl looked like she wanted to say something. Then she took off her gloves.
Michael nearly fell out of the swing.

The bud was in position. The man did not look. He wouldn’t, couldn’t see the bloom, smell the putrid, tantalizing aroma of the clicking metal.

The girl looked guiltily at her hands. The were completely bone, perfectly picked clean and pure of flesh. She wiggled her fingers, or, ghost fingers, about. They had vines twisted around them, decorating the pure ivory with nearly budded flower of all sorts.
Michael stared for a long time.
“You- your hands.”
The girl nodded.
“How?”
“Michael…”
“What? What’s going on? What- who are you?”
There was silence. The gold in the girl’s eyes was heavy.
The girl made an odd noise, as if she were trying to sigh. She made an odd crackling noise instead.
“I’m no one. I’m Death.”

The world was so perfectly quiet.

“What?”
“I’m Death.”
“What?”
“Death.”
“No.”
“Yes.”

Michael looked at the girl’s hands again. He shuttered in a cold breeze.
He took a breath.

Chk-k.
He let the thought settle into his mind.

Click.

“You-”

DOOM.

A thunderclap struck the world on its side. A rose as hot as a furnace bloomed from a dark, steel seed, and the hot pollen of cold death spread into the air. The gift was given.

Michael stared at the stained sweatshirt, arm outstretched, eyes closed. Even from where he sat, he could see the steel slowly creeping through the air, leaving it’s fiery encasing behind it. He tried to move. He couldn’t. The swing wavered slightly.
“Why can’t I get up?! What are you doing to me?!”
The girl’s gold had grown too heavy. Her eyes sunk towards the ground.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered.
Michael opened his mouth. “Oh- oh my god.”
The girl was quiet.
Michael hesitated. “Why are you so broken up about this? You do this stuff all the time!”
“I know. It never gets easier.”
Michael froze.
The girl’s bright eyes were still stuck to the earth.
The steel creeped closer.
God and Man looked into each other’s eyes. One looked at gold. Another saw raw fear.
Michael took a breath. “Why? Why does this have to happen? Why can’t I move?”
The girl crackled again. “It’s your destiny. I can’t stop it. No one can.”
Michael put his head in his hands. “Oh my god…”
The girl stood solemnly beside him.
She bit her lip. “He- didn’t mean to shoot you. He was aiming over there.”
She pointed to the young man in the hood behind the boy far away, frozen in time, instinctual realization creeping across his features.
“He didn’t want for any of this to happen. He’s in too deep. He- he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He can’t even look.”
The man in the sweatshirt was already turning his head, eyes still clutched tight as the gold caliber twirled through the air.
Michael looked at the withering rose in the man’s hand. He saw the pain in his face as his finger was pulled back.
Somehow Michael did not feel angry at his murderer. He only felt pity. He turned his head towards the girl, and gestured to the other man.
“Who is he?”
The girl’s head turned with Michael’s gesture.
“Someone who has seen too much of me. Sometimes he would wish I would visit him, but he would always watch as I took another, and another. There are so many people like him across the world. People who make my job much busier. Sometimes I am angry with them, but I always know what makes them tick.”
The girl tapped her head knowingly. She looked back at Michael.
“You humans are like machines. You are so incredibly complicated, but so...so fragile. You may take different paths in life, yet inside you are all the same. I know how you work, why you work, and who you do it for. I’ve seen it all.”
Michael felt a tear fall down his face. He began to shake for cold under the ignited heavens above him.
“I’ve seen nothing. I’ve done nothing. I thought I’d have more time…”
The girl stopped. She inched closer, scanning the mortal in front of her. She opened her ghastly palm, and a bud sprung from the white. She picked it, and handed it to Michael.
“It’s a daylily.” Said the girl. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? One special morning, they open up to the world, and bask in it’s glory, radiating tranquility. Then at the moon they close, wither away, and fall onto the ground beneath them, becoming one with the earth.
Michael didn’t see what the flower had to do with all this, but he kept it. It was comforting, somehow.
“I envy you, Michael Deene.” Said the girl.  “You will know The End. You cannot fathom what it is like to see…” She trailed off.
“What will you miss most, Michael?”
Michael was a bit taken aback by this question. He hadn’t really thought about his life, though it was about to be savagely stripped from him. He thought about his mom, his dad, his sister, and his dogs. He thought about playing baseball when he was younger, and how good he used to be. He thought of the bullies. He wouldn’t miss them, would he? They were the one’s who taught him the harsh truth: that life was cruel, and merciless. That it called you names and threw stones.
But it was life. Michael thought. And now it was over.
“I guess… I’ll never find love, you know? Now that high school was starting I just thought, you know, maybe I’d find someone.”
Michael looked into the distance.
“Yeah. I thought I’d find the one, right? It was stupid, I know. But there was this girl…”
Michael trailed off. He didn’t feel like elaborating.
“I just- I can’t believe it’s all ending already. I hadn’t even begun. And now- no one will remember me.”
The leaves rustled a seething chorus.
Then the girl leaned over and kissed Michael.
The Kiss of Death was sweet. It tasted like spearmint.
Death pulled away. Michael exhaled a cloud of fog. His face was masked in shock.
“I will remember you, Michael Deene. I always remember.”
Death let out another crackling sigh. It turned toward the steel bullet, almost at it’s final destination.
“Are you ready, Michael?”
Michael looked at the world one last time. He watched the wings of a dark cloud of birds in the distance flap hard towards the sun. He saw a tattered, half raised flag blow in the wind, waving a final goodbye. The whole town, no, world seemed to be calling out to him with rustling words of encouragement, and strength.
Michael turned his head, and looked at his distorted reflection in the rolling steel bullet. It was incredible how one thing so small could destroy a lifetime of memories in an instant. It didn’t move very much like a rock.
Michael thought about the boys at school. The stones and words tossed in the were different than this perfect bullet. But they were ragged, savage, and sharp. A bullet was rounded, smooth, and sleek. It was quick, painless, merciful. The golden beauty sung through the air with sadness. The rocks and the words debilitated and cut relentlessly. They opened you up and spilled your soul out on the ground while you watched, wishing nobody was looking.
Nobody was looking now.
Not even the man.
Nobody, except Death, and the Daylily.
  Michael shuddered. “You can’t… tell me what it’s like? When I go?”
Death shook her head. “I am afraid I cannot.”
She looked down at the bud in Michael’s palm. “Michael, what is your favorite color?”
Michael shot a puzzled look at the figure of beauty before him. “What? It’s uh, orange…”
Michael looked down at the flower in his hand. It’s petals had opened up. It was fiery orange, with little brown freckles dotting it’s skin. It’s petals were peeled back, opened up to take in the world before they withered away.
Michael met Death’s gilted eyes.
“I think…” He breathed. “I’m ready.”
Death nodded. The peppermint upon Michael’s lips began to almost burn.

A bullet to the head is a curious feeling. The bronze sinks in, and the white and red bend to it’s will. Michael felt the metal zip through his mind with lightning speed. A beautiful orange glazed over his eyes. He could tell, but it looked like the sky, lighting for him a last time. Michael felt cold on his back. Blood mixed with woodchips, pooling with the footsteps of the thousands of youth who would love the days, months, years to come. Michael felt his vision almost pulse with the orange glaze, shifting and swirling before him. His eyes grew weary looking up. They fluttered a bit, and he shut them softly.
Michael opened his eyes.
He was in a room.
The walls were white, soulless. Neon lights clung to the ceiling, burning into the room with brightness. A painting hung on the wall, of a boy sitting on a stool while a doctor felt his heart. Padded green chairs lined the room.
Michael looked around. Sitting beside him was Death.
“Where are we?” He asked.
Death gave a sad smile. Michael noticed that her golden eyes sparkle when she did that. Her lips fell back to reveal a smile like a sunbeam.
“We’re in St. Peter’s, Michael. You were born here.”
“Saint Peter’s…” Echoed Michael. He noticed an amateurly painted flower on the wall across from him growing out of the carpet. The paint had dried years ago, dripping out of it’s intended shape. Michael spotted more flowers growing in the light of the false sun.
“Do you remember the time you came here when you were sick, Michael? You were so scared. You thought they would rip you out of your mother’s arms and stick mile-long metal stingers in you. Do you remember that?”
Michael stared at a clock hanging on the wall. A pendulum tail swung under it with perfect time. The clock growled an incessant clicking with each tail swipe. Back, forth, back, forth.
“Yes.” Michael whispered. He remembered his mother’s soft voice telling him it would all be okay while the beast of that clock clicked it’s tongue at him. He remember the smell disinfectant on the doctor. His doctor had green eyes. He remembered the way his mother held his pudgy hand. He remembered how calloused her touch felt.
“Yes, I remember.” He repeated. A tear fell down his cheek. His face didn’t move.
The beast clicked again. Michael wished he could shut it up. The tail wagged at his frustration.
Death at a door leading to a place Michael didn’t remember. He only recalled the whiteness of everything: the doctor’s coat, the walls, the neon lights.
A quiet bell rung, and with dread Michael remembered that was the nurses signal for the next patient. He looked around for someone who had rung it. There was no one there. The only thing in the room besides the two newcomers was the orchestra of silence with the clicking maestro on the wall, never missing a beat.
Death did not look at Michael. “You were so small then. And after, you never knew it happened. You just smiled as you walked out the door, holding your mother’s hand.”
Michael thought about his mother. She had such a kind smile. It made her eyes crinkle back and lit up her face. Her hair was soft. What was her name again? Michael couldn’t remember.
He got up. The door was only across the room, but Michael couldn’t get himself to walk through the thick air. It smelled like… like…
Death stood beside Micael. She grasped his hand in hers, like his mother had done so long ago. In his other hand was the daylily. Michael made sure not to hurt it. It was still beautiful and innocent, resting in his palm sleepily. Michael looked at Death, and took a step. Then another. And another.
The door was open when he got there. Michael could see the spot where the giant doctor in a big white coat measured how tall he was. The doctor told Michael that when he grew up he would be tall and strong. Michael looked down at himself. He felt fairly strong now.
Death smiled, as if responding to the thought in his head. The beast clicked behind them. Nothing moved except it’s obnoxious tail. Michael opened his mouth, but shut it. People had always told him he wouldn’t need to worry about Death, that she was so far away. Now her skeletal fingers were intertwined in his. They were polar opposites. A young dead girl, full of everlasting life, and a grown young man, having his stripped away at the twitch of a misguided finger. Yet they stood together, unflinching, watching as the pencil marks on the wall didn’t get any taller. Michael took in a deep breath of air. He hoped he remembered what breathing felt like after this. He hoped he remembered everything. But then again, wouldn’t that make things all the more painful? He didn’t know. But he was sure he had time to figure it out.

A tight squeeze of a dead hand.
A release of a final breath.
A death of a beast, finally stopping it’s incessant clicking.
A single step taken, and a daylily, closing up in the neon lights.