It happens sometimes. Well sometimes is a slight exaggeration, but it happens.

The longer you spend in the human world, the chance of running into a potential increases and at 800 years in this job, I guess my time was coming up.

I was just working, same as everyone else, and she looked right into my eyes. Not just in my direction or anything like that. I’ve seen that loads of times and I’ve learned the difference. She acknowledged me before she blinked, and of course, in that blink of an eye, she changed focus and I seemed to be gone.

Except I wasn’t.

I was still there of course, just that the split second where she had been on the same plane as me had passed and she had moved back to her world and had gone from able to see me, to thinking it was a trick of the light.

Only... that blink of an eye, that split second was enough. Enough to make me lose my focus and lose a soul.

See, I’m a harvester...

I’m a reaper, a soul taker. Death!

Not THE Death, obviously. He’s a myth, a legend, a character in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld. I’m one of the thousands of harvesters from all different cultures, all around the world. That’s why I said Death... the western world tends to think of me as a single character, the grim reaper, all black cloaks and huge scythe.

In reality, it’s nothing like that.

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