Death in the City by Kyle Giroux (books to read for beginners TXT) 📕

“Yeah, it’s probably just luck,” said Death. “If you want we can switch positions.”

“Nope,” said Thomas. “This has been my spot for the past twelve years, going on thirteen in two months. If I can’t catch a fish here, I can’t—“ Thomas pulled the cigar out of his mouth and put his head in his palms, watching as Death reeled in another fish, this one a California Halibut. “Are you kidding me? Those don’t even live around here.”

“Maybe he got lost,” said Death, hooking another piece of bait and tossing it in. Thomas’ pole sat tranquil as Death reeled in two fish at once, both Bluefish.

“This is unbelievable,” muttered Thomas.

“I don’t have to fish anymore, I can just sit here and watch you.”

“No,” said Thomas with confidence, puffing out a cloud of smoke. “No, I’m going to catch one, bigger than what you’ve caught.”

“Okay,” said Death, hooking another piece of bait and tossing it in. The pole bent and he quickly reeled up a sizable Cod.

“You’re doing it all wrong,” said Thomas. “It’s all wrong, all wrong.” Death put the line in and pulled up his fourth Bluefish. Thomas continued: “Something must have taken my bait.” He reeled up his line until the little baitfish stared him right in the face. He dropped it back in the water and let out a long sigh.

“I really don’t have to do this anymore,” said Death, plopping the Bluefish in the bucket and stringing another piece of bait. “I don’t want to ruin it for you.”

“No,” said Thomas again, holding a hand in the air and not looking at Death. “No, keep going. Quantity is one thing, but it’s all about quality, and I definitely have the skill to—“ Death smiled hesitantly at Thomas before reeling in another catch. It was a tuna, at least three feet long. The fish fell onto the deck with a great wet slap.

Thomas perked up when he saw Death was having trouble getting the hook out of the fish’s mouth. “Ah, that’ll happen to a beginner fisherman. Never know how to get them hooks out. Here, here, you’re gonna kill it.” He walked over with a great smile that Death was glad to see had returned.

When Thomas stepped in the puddle of seawater the fish had brought on deck, he lost his footing, stumbling and twirling over with arms outstretched. Death had no time to react as Thomas flew right into him, hitting him with tremendous force and pushing him down. As Death got to his feet to try to help, all he saw was the lower half of Thomas’ body flipping over the railing and into the sea. Death clambered to look overboard. The last he saw of Thomas was two glazed eyes hanging over a wide open mouth. One could easily deduce by his expression that his death came as a surprise, perhaps due to the fact that Death had made a bargain, and could not hold his end of it.

Death the Fiddler

“And that’s why I need to borrow your fiddle,” said Death to Satan, who was sitting with his feet resting on the desk in his office.

“Just because you reaped some cancer patient?” asked Satan.

“You were right. People need to know who I am and what I’m trying to do. I shouldn’t have tried to hide it. And I need something to catch people’s attention at city hall. I’m finally announcing it.”

“I never said that,” said Satan, grinning and shaking his head. “What happened to your fiddle?”

“Famine accidentally broke it a hundred and fifty years ago in Ireland. I just need it for a few hours. I’ll bring it right back.”

Satan folded his fingers beneath his chin and gazed at the ceiling. Then he smiled broadly and said in his booming voice, “Fine. Bring it back soon. I wanted to duel some politician named Santorum up in America later.” Satan raised his arms and a black fiddle with blazing red swirling designs levitated out of the center of his desk. Death marveled at it as Satan chewed on a toothpick. “Guy says he follows the Bible. Has he even read Leviticus? Cutting off wives’ hands? Really, God? Even I’m not that messed up.”

On the way to the city square, Death ran into Tim and Maria outside of Clarke’s Antique Shop. “Hey, guys,” said Death.

“Hey, buddy,” said Tim. “We were just looking for some…uh, old farming tools.”

“Tim was looking for a teapot for his mother,” said Maria.

“Shut up. I wasn’t, Derek. She’s kidding. It’s a joke we made up.”

“Oh, okay,” said Death. “You two want to come with me to city hall? I want to tell everyone about my retirement.”

“That’s great,” said Maria. “We’d love to.”

Death was about to voice his delight when Pestilence walked out of the antique shop holding an old guitar with no strings and a burnt headstock. “This thing will be fun to fix up,” he said. “Oh, hi, um, Derek.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to mention we met your friend,” said Tim. “Peter?”

“No, his name is Pestilence,” said Death. When he saw Pestilence’s face he said, “It’s fine, Satan told them. They know who I am.”

“Oh, good,” said Pestilence. “If you’re still wondering, Maria, that’s why that guy puked on you. I was just looking for you. I wanted to see if you’d like to get some coffee.”

“That would be nice. But for now, why don’t you come to city hall with me? I’m going to make an announcement.”

“So now we’re friends with two Horsemen of the Apocalypse?” asked Tim.

“Basically,” said Pestilence, wiping a few red ants from his eyebrow. “Wait until you meet War. He’s a real card.”

Death and his friends arrived at city hall. They gazed up at the great golden dome towering high above them. People filled the city square, shopping in the open market in the warm summer air. “I’m going to sit on that bench and play,” said Death.

“Good luck,” said Maria. Death sat