Death

Death

english-creative writing
DO YOU HAVE CARTOON MUSIC PLAYING IN YOUR HEAD TOO?

Her tattoo was of a skull with wings. Doug reflected on the idea that a skull with angelic wings was a bit of an oxymoron. She had her hair pulled up in pigtails; a faux-cute self mockery that made her look the part of the raver she was trying so hard to be. Her black tank top was offset by the white vinyl pants that she was wearing. Her whole outfit couldn’t have been cheap. This was strange, because obviously she was going for the thrift-store look, but her attire had to have cost at least one hundred dollars. These parties always attracted the most diverse crowds every single time they were thrown.
The room was immaculate. Adorned with golden candleholders and engraved marble, it set the archaic mood that the Judge was striving for. Gertrude, the elderly woman that had been with the Judge since the beginning was playing the organ softly. The scene was reminiscent of a medieval brothel, except with images of man-beast angels and various saints and popes that the Judge had introduced. A camera followed a young Vietnamese man in a green army suit as he walked the floor, the red star on his hat glistening under the lights. He saw himself on the monitor and fled.

Doug itched at the rash growing on his neck. It had gotten gradually worse over the last few weeks, and he felt that it would soon be time for him to attend one of these parties. The woman whom he had been over-analyzing was sipping her champagne while ogling the Judge.

The Judge was speaking, as he frequently did during his “Masses” as they were called. His face was matted with pancake makeup, with dark black greasepaint around the eyes to make him look like the mythical figure he claimed to be. Death, however, was not exactly mythical, but the humanoid form of Death was. Then, he raised his hands, summoning Doug and his fellow employees to the front of the hall. They walked, three hundred strong, in front of the...