I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die.
No matter how many times I repeat it, I still feel weaker and I feel more and more blood trickling out of my wounds. I lay on the floor, close to unconsciousness, or death. As I take what feels like the last breath, I hear a voice.
“Jayden, I’m not going to take you. You can live longer than this. You deserve to live longer than this.” The voice is deep and scratchy, but I can tell that inside that voice is a child’s heart. Slowly, breathing becomes easier. “In order for me to save you, you must so a few things for me.”
“Who-who are you?”
“Ah, yes. You dear are one of the few people I’ve actually told this to. I am, well, death.”
“So, wh-what do I need to do? I know things like this come at a price.”
“You, dear, are gifted. Ah yes. Very gifted. Now, price. That word itself is never really a good thing, is it? Well, it’s your lucky day. You, my dear, are going to get off for almost free! I only want you to teach me to bake a cake.” He says this with excitement, as if it’s the happiest day of his life.
“I’m confused,” I tell him, “Why can’t you look it up, or use a cookbook, or, uh, kill somebody and use their cake?”
“See, I’ve tried, deary. Many, many times. But I can only speak to so many humans, which has caused many setbacks in my work.”
“But why me?” I ask
“You are life. The Life, opposite of The Death, et cetera. You must help me fulfill my dreams and I must do the same to yours."46Please respect copyright.PENANAtqyGkA5PGA