Mirrorworld

Mirrorworld Read Free Page A

Book: Mirrorworld Read Free
Author: Daniel Jordan
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Death.
    “So you’ve come to kill me?”
    “What? Of course not,” Death said, a particular cast of shadow adding an offended tint to his skull. “People always get that wrong. Death doesn’t kill people. Life kills people. My job is to pick people up after they’ve died, and point them in the right direction. It’s important work.”
    There was another quiet moment whilst Marcus digested this. In the corner, the jukebox stuttered and made a noise very much like a female voice saying “hello?”.
    “So I’m dead?” Marcus asked.
    “Not yet. In about two minutes you are going to fall off that bar stool, and you won’t be standing up again. It’s really going to be quite undignified, though I’ve seen worse.”
    “Well,” Marcus said blankly, “I’m not sure I believe that. For starters, I’m not even drunk! Also, if that were the case, shouldn’t you be here in two minutes and not right now?”
    “I’m ahead of schedule,” Death said. “And I like to take an interest. But believe me, while I can’t comment on your internal state of mind, you are definitely going to die. I’m kind of the expert when it comes to that. Even if you can’t feel it, you’ve drank four whole bottles of sketchily sourced whiskey, and that never goes down well.”
    “Actually,” Marcus said cheerfully, “they went down very well.”
    In the corner, the jukebox made a sound very much like a female voice saying “I can’t make contact, just bring him in.” Amidst the bongo bongo noises it was already making, the effect was jarring enough to make the barman look around from where he had been eavesdropping on the conversation at the end of the bar.
    In the meantime, Death was drumming his fingers on the bar, in itself a rather jarring sound. “You’re taking this very well,” he said.
    “That’s because I don’t believe you,” Marcus said flatly. “Any hobo can dress up in black and paint his face and tell people that they’re going to die. You don’t even have a scythe. You’re the worst death I’ve ever seen, and you can trust my word that I’ve seen his work before. Now leave me alone.” He moved to turn away from the dark figure, but found himself incapable as their eyes met.
    “Trust and belief are not necessary,” Death thundered, rising from his seat to tower over Marcus. “I am Death, and you have seen me before, reflected in the eyes of your nearest and dearest as they pass. Do not doubt me, Marcus, for I am your salvation as your life ends. You see it, do you not? Deep within my eyes..”
    Marcus did see it. Transfixed by the gaze of the Grim Reaper, he stared into the infinite chasms of those eye sockets, and saw the tiny blue supernovas that lay within, destroying and recreating themselves endlessly in a single instant of annihilation repeated for as long as there was life in the world. And after all existence was finished, those eyes would flare one final time, and all would come to a close. In one horrible moment all of this flashed through the mind of the man named Marcus, and then it was gone as he sat before Death and the final seconds leaked out of his life. He twisted on his bar stool, futilely considering an attempt to run for it. Death, for his part, reached for his staff and assumed a ready position. Both paused in a frozen moment, waiting for the inevitable, and it was right then that the jukebox made a sound very much like a female voice saying “no! Don’t do that!”, and exploded.
     
    The ridiculously disproportionate explosion took out most of the bar and the building it was based in. Debris was flung outwards from the centre of the blast, one swinging piece of detritus cleanly decapitating the barman, whose body was buried beneath a shower of rubble before it could even fall limply to the floor. Another hit the Grim Reaper, who exploded in a shower of bones. Marcus reached out for the nearest solid object as the world lurched around him, and found Death’s staff. Hugging

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