The day was dark and gloomy as rain fell in thick waves over the small quiet little town of San Vivida, Mexico. As the rain was falling, many of the quiet friendly villagers hid in their small homes spending time with their families telling stories and the like. However not all was peaceful; at the edge of the village where the rich farmland laid, a short middle aged man ran as much as he could despite his disability in his leg while he carried a small baby in his arms. He had found the newborn abandoned in the forest and as a kind nurturing man he wouldn't dare leave a baby to die. The best thing he could possibly do was bring the baby to the most respected man in the village; Death. Despite the name, everyone in the village looked up to Death. Many told stories to the children that Death came from a distant magical land, with teachings and magical potions that helped heal the village especially during the times of plague. No matter if it was true or not, all of the village was grateful to him. With the newborn wrapped in cloth and held tightly in his arms, the man known as Jorge knocked quickly on Death's door. He was soaked to the bone, and his cane that he relied on to walk was long discarded back in his hut. As a lonely man, Jorge's only solace was having conversations with Death as well as practicing his love of carving into wood. Often he would carve small toys for children and fashion small furniture for the locals from scraps of wood he would purchase from merchants. With a shiver and a grunt, Jorge held the quiet baby close to his chest. As he was waiting he prayed that the silence didn't mean the baby wasn't alive.

"Por favor, dios mio..." He whispered to himself.

"Oh sí...." Jorge said tiredly with a groan. Even if he was young he still wouldn't be able to catch up to the damn child.

"Oh Miguel... My Miguel... I'm afraid of the trouble he'll get himself into. That's all he does. I pray that he will grow out of it but I know he won't. That child will make anyone rip their hair out."

 

Death chuckled, thinking of Miguel. That kid…was surely something. Never had anyone, and would anyone really be able to match Miguel. He had a bright future ahead of him…if he doesn’t end up getting himself into a heap of trouble first. Even the Undertaker, who loved all children, knew that he wouldn’t be able to handle Miguel. Yet there was one person that was able to stay by his side and not really think twice about it, and that was Grim. From time to time Death worried that Miguel might be a bad influence, but overall it actually made Grim happier, and so Death had no problem. He loved Miguel too, after all. “Don’t worry about it. Maybe he won’t change…but he’ll definitely adapt to be able to survive while being himself. “Where is Miguel, by the way? Is he grounded?” Meanwhile the moment Megara took her eyes off Grim, he darted off, running all across the town and exploring.

Jorge signed softly at Death's reassuring words. He definitely hoped so. Once Death asked about Miguel's whereabouts, Jorge couldn't help but chuckle.

"Ahh I guess you could say he is partially grounded." Jorge said. "I invited the widow over to pick out vegetables and fruits from my crop. She's over there right now and I made Miguel pick all of them out for her and plant some seeds with her. She absolutely loves tending to gardens and whatnot so it's good that she's being distracted from her grief. Ever since that day she's been crying and crying every night screaming I heard. Luckily she likes Miguel... He helps her with carrying goods often."

 Death smiled. “That’s wonderful.” Death admitted. A year ago she had lost her husband and only son. To hear that she could get distracted of her grief with such activities was a great relief. She even liked Miguel, despite everyone else’s hate and insistence that it was his fault for being the ‘son of a witch’. “Grim should be returning with Megara soon. I would’ve asked him to stay here to study but he’s still too young to see the effects of poisons on smaller living things.” Death went on, glancing at the dead rat that he had covered with a towel on the table. Just then, Megara walked in. “I’m home, oh Jorge! Hello!” Megara cheered, walking over to him and kissing his cheek lovingly. “Where’s Grim?” “Running.” “Ah.”

 

Much like Megara had said, he was indeed, running. All across the town, over fences, over the fountains, and even around the cemetery, but being careful to not actually enter. If he ran around the place his dad would punish him badly. After all it was a sacred place for those who had passed on.

 

Jorge quickly fixed the leg of his pants over his infection as soon as Megara came in. He also made sure to put his shoe on. The last thing he needed was for Megara to see his illness. With a small smile and a chuckle, Jorge hugged her.

"Hola nena."

 

Meanwhile as Grim ran, the same man stood by behind a tree from afar, watching the young child as his tail slid back and forth.

"Another child to die young." He said, snake like tongue hissing in is mouth.

 

-

 

Another year passed and all was not well in the town. Jorge was keeping Miguel away from the townsfolk for obvious reasons, but sadly he was unable to keep Miguel fully fed all the time due to bad harvest and no one purchasing his crops and goods. Miguel didn't mind being hungry sometimes however. One day, a crying Miguel ran over to Death's door and knocked furiously on the door with all his might. He wouldn't stop until someone answer.

"Papi!!!" Miguel sobbed. "Papi needs help!!!"

Death opened the door, answering the continuous pounding on it only to see Miguel standing there, crying how his father needed help. A small pain began to form in the pit of his stomach. He could already tell that something was terribly wrong. "Miguel, Miguel calm down buddy." Death cooed, rubbing his head as he wiped away some tears. "I'll check on Jorge and help him out, alright? Come in." Death assured, getting Miguel inside. "Megara, Grim, Miguel is here." "Miguel!" Grim was the first to run in to greet his friend, only to stop once he saw him crying. "Miguel?" Grim asked worried. Megara walked right behind and rubbed Miguel's head. "Miguel what's wrong?" Megara cooed. "Jorge is sick. I'm going to check up on him. Miguel, stay here and I'll be right back." Death assured, picking up his bag as he began to walk away to Jorge's house. Megara picked Miguel up, calming him down in her arms. The walk to the house felt eerie. Silent and oddly gloomy. He knew that Jorge's condition would've only gotten worse. Was he now unable to walk at all? He didn't want to assume anything in fear that he would be right. He knocked on the door. "Jorge, it's me. I'm coming in." Death said, entering the house seconds after. "Jorge?"

Miguel couldn't stop crying even after he saw Grim and after Megara picked him up. If anything after Death's words what was going on he only cried louder and harder. He tried in vain to wipe his tears away with his hands.

"I want my Papi!!" Miguel cried. "I-I want Papi..."

 

Meanwhile, as Death walked along the man with the horns followed as well. He kept appearing ahead leaning on a tree with his arms crossed. When Death passed him, he would only appear leaning on the next tree ahead and on the next.

"What an unfortunate event." He commented.

Once Death let him inside the house, Jorge wasn't in a good condition at all. He laid on his cot looking as if he was corpse. There were terrible bags under his eyes, and anyone could see that Jorge definitely wasn't well.

"Muerte..." He whispered hoarsely. With a weak grip, Jorge pulled up his shirt slightly to show that the gangrene already reached his stomach. With that, he probably hasn't been able to use the bathroom in weeks.

"I can't go on..." He whispered, almost like a ghost. The smell of death and rotting flesh was in the air. "I have failed you all... Lo siento, hijo..."

"You think so?" Death asked almost sarcastically. He would regret it a second after. The sight horrified Death more than it should have for a doctor. He didn't even mind if the horned man was in the room. The doctor who barely showed what he was thinking was pale and in a state of shock. The scent alone was overwhelming. "Dios mio..." Death whispered, making a sign of the cross as he stepped closer. "Jorge...perdóname..." Death whispered. He now wished he had amputated the leg when he had a chance. He may had died, but not suffer. He shook the shock away and walked over to him, holding his hand. "You've fought long enough my friend. You've done everything you possibly could and more. You deserve to rest." Death explained, trying to keep his composure. "I will keep my promise and protect Miguel as my own. He is young now, but he will understand that your body could not take much longer. You've fought so long...you can let go." Death cooed, almost chocking on that last sentence.

Jorge chuckled bitterly at Death's words. So this was it. This was the day that he was to die. If Jorge could he would fight even longer. But his body couldn't handle it no more. With a small smile, Jorge weakly lifted up his thin hand to touch Death's cheek.

"Until we meet again..." Jorge whispered as he closed his eyes. Almost immediately his body went limp. He was gone. From that moment there was a odd calmness in the air. As if a tired soul has finally gotten the rest that it deserved. The horned man laid back in the doorframe, arms crossed as always.

Edited September 17, 201510 yr by Aqua7KH

Death felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach once Jorge's soul finally left his body. It was a relief that he wouldn't have to suffer anymore, but also a pain of the fact that he was gone. He honestly had no idea how he would break the news to Miguel. He was afraid to. He gently let go of his hand and used his fingers to gently close his eyes. "Until were meet again, amigo mío." Death whispered, pulling up the bed sheets and gently covering him with it. He stayed knelled down for a minute, giving a small prayer for his soul before standing up and walking out the home, walking past the horned man. "I'm heading to Undertaker's place." He said as he began to walk. He couldn't help but to feel slightly annoyed by the young man. But who wouldn't if death seemed to follow him like a lost puppy, taking away those around him. "You're still around, so does that mean there's still some people to die soon? Or are you just around to stick for the funeral?" Death hissed, playing uneasily with the cross around his neck.

The man followed Death casually, chuckling once Death asked him his question.

"That's just plain rude." The man protested. "You really shouldn't talk like that to your friends. If you do, you won't have any. I'm not Death or the Grim Reaper himself... I'm just a... Friend wanting to help." He mused as he walked along. "Just for future reference though... he marks at ten... And his favorite number is thirteen."

For a moment, he regretted naming his son Grim. Megara and him liked the name in general and agreed the irony would be lovely to do since they had the chance. But now this guy was...testing his patience. "13. The number of the tarot card Death. How...lovely." Death went on as he walked with the horned man. "I don't have a lot of friends. I'm more focused on my job and family. Trying to keep the irony of someone named Death saving people you know." Death spoke. They reached the establishment and knocked on the door. Undertaker opened the door, looking at Death and raising an eyebrow at the horned man. "Death. There aren't any reports yet." Undertaker spoke, his glance never leaving at the horned man. "I know. I need your services. Jorge has..." Death began. Undertaker understood. "Oh my goodness...I'm so sorry. Does Miguel know?" Undertaker spoke. "Not yet. I need to warn you however. The scene is...I mean his body...the sickness..." Death spoke. Undertaker nodded. "I understand. I will go quickly." Undertaker said, taking a glance at the horned man once more before hurrying off to get ready. "This place is small but full of life. May I ask why you've taken interest in this town out of all places?" Death asked.

The man chuckled as the Undertaker answered the door. It wasn't often he was entertained by such a reaction from a mortal.

"Why this place you ask?" The man asked as he looked around, taking everything in. "I just like this place." There was a hint of lying in his voice. "I'm always here. And I'm not here to tell you who's going to die. I'm just here to give you... Tips!" He said with a chuckle, looking to Death with a sly grin. "You should be happy I'm helping you out. And about your Undertaker friend... I've never seen such a funny reaction in ages! After all, no one can see me unless I show myself... But for the special ones that do, it's always hilarious when they freak out."

The man chuckled as the Undertaker answered the door. It wasn't often he was entertained by such a reaction from a mortal.

"Why this place you ask?" The man asked as he looked around, taking everything in. "I just like this place." There was a hint of lying in his voice. "I'm always here. And I'm not here to tell you who's going to die. I'm just here to give you... Tips!" He said with a chuckle, looking to Death with a sly grin. "You should be happy I'm helping you out. And about your Undertaker friend... I've never seen such a funny reaction in ages! After all, no one can see me unless I show myself... But for the special ones that do, it's always hilarious when they freak out."

 

Death shrugged slightly. Undertaker was always surrounded with death due to his job, ever since a young child. To be able to see the horned man wouldn’t be much of a surprise. “To give me tips huh? How honored.” Death said, being somewhat sarcastic as he began to walk back to his home. “Give me all the tips you want then, I guess. To guess who might die next…I can prepare myself emotionally and mentally that way.” Death said. He was still curious about this horned man. As much sarcasm he wanted to tease the man with, he couldn’t help but to want him around regardless. He wanted to ‘study’ the man, for a better term. Death stopped about a few feet away from the door of his home. He sighed. “My wife and kid are inside with Jorge’s son. I don’t even know how I’m going to handle this…” Death murmured. He eventually got the courage and walked over to the door, opening it and leaving it open for the man to walk in if he pleased. He walked over to the living room, where Megara was holding Miguel, Grim sitting next to her. “Muerte, there you are. How’s Jorge?” Megara asked smiling. However her smile faded once she saw his expression. Something was wrong. He walked over to Miguel, rubbing his head and rubbing his cheek gently. “Miguel…” Death whispered, sighing. “Jorge, your dad…he…he was too sick for me to help him. He’s gone to a better place now. He’s…” Death whished there was a better word for the act. “…dead. I’m sorry, Miguel.” Death whispered. Megara stared in horror, Grim looking over in shock. “Uncle Jorge is gone…?”

"I can't see the future, stupid." He man half joked as he walked along. "Well, I DID know Jorge was to die... And as for that little boy I knew because..." He was going to continue, until they arrived at Jorge's house. The man decided to stay behind, leaning on a doorframe to watch the event that was just about to transpire.

As soon as Miguel saw Death, his face brightened up. He knew Death could do it!

"Can I go see my Papi now-" Miguel was quiet as soon as he heard Death's words. His father was dead. How could it be? Miguel's entire face dropped and he turned ten shades whiter. There was shock and despair in his eyes.

"P-Papi-" he squeaked, thick salty tears already welling up in his eyes. "P-Papi no-... T-Tiò por favor, it's so m-mean to l-lie like that!"

Death shook his head. It hurt to see Miguel this way. He was like a son to him and a brother to Grim. "Lo siento, Miguelito. I'm not lying." Death said, quickly wrapping his arms around Miguel and picking him up in his arms. "I tried everything I could. But your Papi was too sick for my medicine to work." Death explained. He knew the stages. Denial, realization, sadness, and so on. For a boy as young as Miguel it would take quite an emotional toll which they would have to be ready for. "He fought like a bull, Miguel. He was very strong, but his body couldn't take it anymore..." Death cooed, feeling guilt rise up as he brought Miguel into a warm hug. "I'm sorry." Megara had gentle tears stream down her face. Grim was hiccuping, his face red as he tried not to cry but failed to.

It didn't take a few moments later for Miguel to scream in pure agony. His father was dead. One of the most important persons in his life was dead. Someone who loved him with every inch of his heart was dead. And Miguel would never get that back. He would never get his Papi back.

"PAPI!!!" Miguel cried, crying in ways he never imagined he could. "M-MI PAPI!!!" He began to shake and could barely breathe from how much he was crying. The news utterly ripped him apart.

It was heartbreaking. No child deserved what Miguel was suffering. Death would never forgive himself over this. He held Miguel reassuringly in his arms, holding him gently enough to keep him safe but strong enough to keep him in place. Megara cried softly, Grim crying out as well. Megara picked up Grim in her arms, standing up as she brought Miguel into a hug of her own, Grim throwing his arms around Miguel to hug him as well. Jorge was gone, and they would make sure to look after Miguel to make sure he wasn't alone. Not now, not ever. "It's ok to cry Miguel." Death cooed. The family would attend the funeral by sundown...Death just hoped that no one tried to make any attempts against Miguel while there.

Miguel just continued to cry and cry. He cried out the same way the widow did when she lost her son. Miguel didn't fully understand the concept of death, however he knew his father was old. No matter what, he always felt like is father would live forever.

"I-I want to s-see my Papi!!!" Miguel cried. He would do anything to see him one last time. To hug him one last time.

Death held Miguel in his arms, cooing him. "We will. We will. I'll take you now." Death assured. He looked at Megara. "I'm taking Miguel to see him." He said. Megara nodded, holding Grim in her arms. "Right. We'll see you there later." Megara said. Instantly Grim tried to object. "I want to..." Grim sobbed, hiccuping as Megara cleaned his face. "Later." She cooed. Death carried Miguel out of the house, giving a small nod at the horned man as he made his way back to the Undertaker. His son greeted them. "Come in." He said as he let them inside. The child hurried to the back past the curtains, telling his father of the visitors. The Undertaker quickly stepped out. "Just about ready." Undertaker said. "I know. Miguel wishes to see his father one more time, if possible." Death asked. Undertaker's eyes softened, giving a small nod. "In here." Undertaker led them inside the room where he prepared the dead. On a wooden bed with a metallic surface, covered with a sheet of white lay Jorge's body. Undertaker pulled the sheet down to his shoulders to revel his face. He seemed much peaceful from earlier.

Miguel definitely wasn't prepared to see Jorge's corpse. Almost instantly Miguel forced his way out of Death's arms and jumped down.

"P-PAPI!" Miguel shrieked, burying his face into his father's chest. The cloth felt cold.

"D-Don't bury him!" Miguel cried as he reached up to protectively wrap his arms around Jorge's chest. "He's just sleeping! He'll wake up and then you'll see he's okay!" Miguel then went to speak to his father.

"Papi!!!" Miguel frantically cried, even more tears streaming down his face. "Papi you have to wake up! Wake up Papi! They're going to bury you if you don't wake up!"

Undertaker and Death looked at each other with pity. First stage; denial. They didn't stop him for a while, wanting to let Miguel see him one last time. It was obvious he wasn't going to wake up any longer. His skin was cold and his heart had stopped. Even the Undertaker's son didn't knew what to say, despite being born for this. Death gently rubbed Miguel's head. "He isn't asleep, Miguel." He spoke. "He has no heartbeat and is beyond anyone's skill to bring him back." Death explained. Though it did little comfort to the child. "Miguel." Death cooed, rubbing his head once more. "Your father wanted to stay with you. He really did. But his body was to frail to handle the sickness. But he's surely still watching over you in soul. You have to be brave and you have to be strong. You have to show him that you'll grow up big and strong like he once was...he would want that." Death whispered, rubbing away a few tears from Miguel's cheeks.

Miguel looked to his father and back to Death, furrowing his tiny little eyebrows in frustration.

"H-He's sleeping!" Miguel claimed with a hiccup. Deep down inside, he knew his father wasn't going to open his eyes. Despite this Miguel still told himself his father was just sleeping.

"Papa will never leave me!" Miguel uttered, his voice cracking as tears began to fall once more. "I love him with all my heart... He can't leave me!" Miguel looked to Jorge once more, and tried to shake him awake. "Papi please! Don't leave me... Don't l-let them b-bury you..."

 

Death gently picked up Miguel, having him let go of Jorge as he brought him into a warm hug. “Miguel…” Death cooed. He rubbed his head. “Your dad loves you very much. He always told me how wonderful you are and that he wanted to stay with you forever. But he knew he was much too old compared to the rest, and that his health wouldn’t allow him to fight far enough to see you grow up to be an adult. But know this, Jorge loves you with all of his heart, and even if he isn’t here physically, he’s watching over you from high above in the sky. So you have to be strong and live on for him, alright? That way when it’s your turn you can have stories to tell him.” Death said, gently rubbing the tears away from his cheeks. “You will live with us, alright? With Megara, Grim and I. I can never be a replacement for Jorge. But I will help you grow up to be the young man he wanted to see you be, alright?”

Miguel wasn't expecting such comforting words and gestures from Death. It provided Miguel with a feeling of... Hope. Miguel's father was in the sky. How could Miguel make his watching father strong? As Death said, it was by being brave.

"L-Live with you?" Miguel hiccuped. Honestly Miguel liked the idea. Even with his father gone, Miguel didn't feel alone. He still had two adults who loved him with all their hearts, and a brother who felt the same.

"S-Sí..." He whispered, looking to his father's body once more. "B-Be the man m-mi papa wants to be..."