text: Diamonds? I have plenty. Gold? I’m richer than the king. Weapons? I have my own armory. Hearts of beautiful women? I sleep with a new girl every night. There’s very little that I don’t have. But there is one thing I want. Something I can’t get in life. Something that requires death. My death. Because I have to steal it FROM Death himself. What I want: Death’s Soul. Said to give anyone immortality until they take their own life. And I want it. I can steal everything at anytime. The world will be man. So I slit my throat and await Death to arrive. Soon Death floats in, ragged cloak, scythe in hand, and surprisingly, Death is a woman. Long dark black hair, with black eye shadow, and other makeup stuff. Killer looks and a beautiful body. “Tired of stealing Conway?” “Now that I see you I would like to steal one more thing. I say with a wink. Death laughed with the most beautiful noise in the world. It was like a fingerpicked song on guitar: elegant and sweet. “Alright Conway, you may be the greatest thief but it’ll take a lot more than pick-up lines to steal my cold heart.” “Is that a challenge my dear? Because I’m always up for it.” I no longer wanted to steal Death’s Soul, I wanted her heart. I was going to steal Death’s Heart. “So what’s next sweetheart?” “Next is if you call me another pet name I’ll take you to Satan himself” “Alright no more pet names Death.” “Thank you. Now the way this works is I take you through what you’ve done in life and at the end I’ll send you to Hell, Heaven, or The Plain. Understand?” “What’s The Plain?” “The Plain is where you decide where you want your next life, and what year.” “Interesting. What if I want to just stay here with you?” Death’s laugh bounced of the non existent walls. “Tell you what, if you manage to get me to have even the smallest feelings for you, you can stay with me forever.” She outstretched her hand, looking for a hand shake. I reach out at kiss her hand as if she was royalty. She seemed impressed at my confidence and bravery. “You’re quite the confident one aren’t you? Anyway we’ll start with your birth. Follow me.” She led me down a corridor where a small picture frame popped up, but instead it played a moving picture. It showed my birth. My ma and pa in what I could only presume is their bedroom. Ma was screaming in pain, blood was everywhere, pa was holding her hand. Soon enough there I was screaming just as loud as ma. “Harold, we did it...” ma passed out, pa set me on a table, carelessly, and tended to ma. I felt a slow trickle of a tear draw a line down my face. “So, the thief has a soft side?” Death said, but not in a bitchy way, more caring and curious. “Yeah I guess so, doesn’t come out too often though.” I said and I followed Death to the next moving photo. “Ah here is...oh...oh I’m sorry.” Death had concern in her eyes. And the moving photo went on. It was the night my ma and pa died. “Harold that was a lovely dinner you made for us tonight. You didn’t happen to make dessert did you?” Ma was so beautiful that night, her brown hair naturally curled and her everyday clothes dirtied while she had cleaned the house. “Yeah poppy, dessert!” I was so young, 3 or 4 years old when they died. “Well my loves” pa had said, with his apron on and his gentleman’s mustache and his hair pushed over to one side. “I did happen to make an apple pie by *accident*” as he pulled out an apple pie from behind his back. “Yaaayyy” ma and I shouted in unison. And that’s when it happened. Soldiers came in. “Harold and Mary Bisnons, you’re under arrest for theft, do not resist it we will be forced to shoot you!” The soldier had shouted. Ma picked me up and ran towards the back door. And the soldier didn’t back on his word. He took a shot at her but hit pa instead. I heard my own baby-self crying and ma still running. 3 soldiers chased after her. I guess Death wanted to be nice because the moving photo stopped. “Why’d you stop it?!” I cried to Death. “I knew it would be too painful for you. It’s been 25 years since but...” her voice trailed off. I sank down and began to cry. I don’t know what ma and pa had stole. But I don’t know why am had to run and risk her life. I felt Death sink down next to me. I didn’t look at her. I just rested my head on her shoulder. Despite her being Death, she was warm and comforting, not cold and harsh as he had expected. I sniffled and wiped away tears. “What’s next?” I met Death’s eyes. The were warm and filled with a sadness no one could understand. “The first time you stole something.” She said. We walked down further and the moving pictures displayed exactly what she said it was. I remember it vividly. I was 7 years old. I just ran away from *another* orphanage. I was starving. And there was a piece of bread, unattended and still good. I ‘accidentally’ bumped the table over and the bread hit the floor. I grabbed it quickly and picked up the table, apologizing profusely. “I was starving. That bread probably saved my life.” I told Death. “Yes it did, but it also started you down the path of a thief.” “Maybe, but I stole to stay alive, then I stole to get revenge on the rich for leaving the poor to rot.” I was angry. Angry that because I stole I was assumed to be evil. “I understand, do what you can to live, punish those you made you suffer.” Death said. Was she falling for me? “We have a few more” and she led me further down. When I joined the Thieves Guid, the first time a stole from the rich, the first time I convinced a women to sleep with me, the first time I was forced to kill someone. “I admit, Death, I’ve done evil things, but I did it all to survive.” “And the women?” “Comfort. Didn’t have any comfort since my parent were killed.” “Damnit,” Death said. “I told myself you were crazy to try and make me fall for you, but seeing what you went through, and how you always acted the tough guy, but seeing you break down and cry, I knew there was more to you.” Death has actually fallen for me. I didn’t argue, I pulled her close and kissed her. She was surprised but she’s fell into it, wrapping her arms around my neck. I picked her up and laid her down. I hadn’t gotten what I came to steal, but I got something much better: love.