Ficly

Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep

“Come with me,” Death said gently to the boy. “It’s time to go home to heaven.”

“No,” the boy replied. “I’m not going. You’re a stranger and I am not supposed to go with strangers.”

They couldn’t have been a more odd couple. Death stood more than seven feet tall. He was dressed in a long black robe with a skull visible under the hood and one skeletal hand poking out of a sleeve, gripping a scythe. He wasn’t trying to be sinister, he was simply pressed for time and hadn’t altered his appearance from the previous job.

Timmy stood just under five feet, was dressed in a yellow and black over gray Pirate’s baseball uniform and carried a bat in one hand and a ball in a glove on the other. He wore a stubborn look on his face and reiterated, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Death’s Iphone chimed the funeral march and he answered, “Hello?”

He listened for a moment, then hung up.

“OK, kid, you win.” Death said. “Dispatch says you have 74 more years. Sorry for the mixup.”

Seconds later, Timmy awakened on his own bed.

View this story's 3 comments.