It was a natural occurrence, quick and painless. You hardly felt a thing when your heart stopped.

Stress-induced cardiac arrest is what the doctors called it, and they weren't wrong. You were stressed—you worked yourself too hard. It wasn't your fault; you led an average life, after all, and had an average death. There's no point in dwelling on it now.

You weren't aware that you had passed when we first met. Actually, truth be told, this was not our first meeting. You have seen me on many occasions throughout your life—at funerals or on the news—you have known me for quite some time, everyone does, but never so intimately as you did now.

When we finally met on our own terms you did not believe me to be who I said I was. You were frightened, it's understandable. You felt so small in my presence and I towered over you like a shadow.

I took the form you associated me with: tall and dark, a cloak wrapped around a skeleton and with a scythe in my hand.

It was what you expected, but not what you wished to see. Not many truly wish to see me.

I soothed your fears and eventually you understood the fate that had befallen you. You had questions—everyone does.

I chuckled and placed a hand of bones upon your shoulder, it was time for us to take a walk together.

As we walked I told you that I could only answer three questions; that the rest was for you to discover on your own.

You thought for a moment and asked me something that everyone wants to know.

"Which religion got it right?"

I gave a skeleton's smile and shook my head. I honestly didn't know; still don't. Perhaps I may never know. My job was simply to walk with you until you faded away to wherever you go. I have walked miles with some, and with others, barely a step. You seemed to accept that response.

We continued our walk as you thought of your next question.

"What happens with children?"

This was an interesting question, though not entirely uncommon.

Without a word, I reached down and grabbed your hand. It was tiny now; full of youth long passed. It was easier to show you rather than to tell you.

You were about five years old now. I had made sure to turn back your appearance to where you were young, but could still walk with ease beside me.

While you marveled at your regained youth you failed to notice that I had changed as well, until I squeezed your hand and and told you to look.

You tilted your head up and stared in astonishment at the image of your mother in the prime of her life.

You had loved her more than anyone else in your childhood, so that was who I walked with you as. If a child was too young walk I would carry them in loving arms until they faded away.

When you had accepted my answer you returned to the age of your passing, and we carried on as soul and shadow.

Time was irrelevant now, yet it took you hardly any time at all to ask your final question.

"So what's your story?"

We stopped walking.

You stared at me, your eyes full of a genuine curiosity that I had never seen directed my way before.

I was amazed, but said not a word in response. It was not something that could be placed into words.

All around us the scene shifted to a blackness that was deeper and so much more devoid of anything than you'd ever seen, that you felt frightened again. You clung to me, pulling your face deep into my side as though the black of my cloak and the inside of your eyelids was more comfortable a darkness than this unnatural void surrounding us.

I advised you to be at ease and not to cower in fear. We were not lost in the dark; we were only just beginning.

Slowly, hesitantly, you turned to face the void. And it was from that blackness that a tiny speck of light appeared between us, and as it grew from a speck, to a point, to a little ethereal glow, you felt calm again.

"What is it?" You breathed, reaching to cup the little fairy light in gentle fingers.

"It is everything," I spoke, reaching out one finger of bone to touch the small thing, "and it is nothing."

At my touch, the light exploded in your hands.

You cried out, more alarmed than burned, then watched with pure awe and fascination as the explosion expanded further and further. It left dust and gas in its wake—particles that became nebulae and stars and planets before your very eyes. A celestial body would form in one instant just to die in the next and leave behind more and more cosmic debris to continue the cycle.

You watched planets form, stars die, civilizations evolve and crumble billions of miles from your own galaxy, and soon it was your turn.

Earth came upon us quite suddenly, and though it was only a fraction of my duties, I held the tiny blue planet dear to me.

You watched up until the moment of your death; when I came to walk with you.

You wished to turn away, but I placed my skeleton's hand upon your shoulder once more and turned you back.

There were people around you where your body lay slumped—people tying to revive you.

We had been together since time itself began, you and I, and yet we had only walked for a few minutes.

You were confused and looked to me for guidance, but I could only give you a skeleton's smile. You were already beginning to fade.

Taking your transparent hands in mine, I leaned down and pressed ghostly lips to your forehead—a kiss of Death.

You sighed at that and vanished altogether.

I watched you then. I watched as you began to cough and wheeze as your heart resumed its seemingly endless marching beat. You tried to sit up, only for the EMTs to gently lay you back down. Your loved ones were crying with relief beside you.

They had all thought you gone. Indeed you were, but I knew you were not ready to walk all that way with me—not yet at least. You would eventually, however, and when that day comes I shall greet you with open arms and answer your questions once more.

For you, who was curious.
For you, who was kind.

For you, who once walked with me.