All Work and No PeaceMature

Walking out the shop with the bag of CD’s in one hand and a freshly lit cigarette in the other Thane almost felt happy as he walked towards the Slug and Hare, he craved some lager and a chat to the bartender. But as he reached the pub he instantly remembered the two men in the car, however, when he looked around nervously the car was gone. He sighed in relief, but the craving for lager had disappeared completely and with a groan of disappointment Thane made his way back home.

It was only a few minutes before Thane pushed himself through the door of his apartment – for some reason the door was a little too big for the frame – and threw the bag of CD’s on the coffee table as he threw himself on the couch. Thane smiled as silence crept over the apartment, he was glad that Shakespeare hadn’t picked up the speech as soon as he was home and as an act of a little celebration for silence Thane walked to the kitchen.

“What are you smiling so much about?” Shakespeare immediately asked as soon as Thane passed him to get to the kitchen.

Thane closed his eyes, trying to forget that the skull had even spoken, but it was all in vain as Shakespeare shouted the same question at him.

“Nothing, I was just happy that you weren’t talking, for once.” Thane snapped, slamming his favourite coffee mug on the silver counter as he waited for the coffee to reach boiling point.

“No, that’s not it. I’m silent all the time and you’ve never smiled like that before.” The skull stated.

“I’ve smiled before, like when I’m thinking about taking your soul and putting it in a toilet.” Thane replied as he poured the black coffee in the mug. He tried to hide his laughter as the skull gasped.

“You wouldn’t!” Shakespeare shouted in disbelief.

Thane smiled at the skull as he stood in front of it and lowered himself so he was exactly eye level with Shakespeare.

“I might if you don’t shut up for at least an hour.” Thane told him firmly, but he smiled nonetheless when the skull made no reply back and Thane felt a little triumphant as he placed one of Bob Dylan’s CD’s in the stereo.

Resting his mug on the coffee table Thane laid down on the couch, resting his head on the armrest and taking a long drag from his cigarette. Resting his hands on his stomach and closing his eyes Thane couldn’t help but let the images of the two men talking in the car peak his curiosity. He was never usually this interested in what people did, but for some reason he thought about them; he thought about the man who looked like a young Clint Eastwood and he thought about the man who looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but in the car.

What had they been talking about?

Thane mulled that question his head for hours, opening his eyes occasionally to stare at the ceiling while he took another drag, before reminding himself that he could probably ask one of them when their time came.

Thane always found out the most interesting of things when people died.

Thane frowned at that, it was a depressing thought and Thane hated the fact that he felt much more comfortable talking to the dead as he did when talking to the living. He was part of the living, Thane knew that, but he felt most comfortable to be himself when he was watching someone in their last moments of life and when they passed through death.

Thane gasped in pain as his heart gave an uncomfortable twist; he sat up clutching at his chest and doubling over in pain. Images of people being shot, blood, tears, a mother screaming for help and a child screaming for their mother flooded his vision, until it finally stopped and the pain disappeared as if it never happened.

“What happened?” Shakespeare asked concern clear in his voice.

“People… a lot of them.” Thane simply replied, his breathing was hard, yet he got up and faded through the air just before he reached the door.

The God of Death’s job was never done. 

The End

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