Epoch of Death

Hey guys I'm back. Sorry I was gone so long, I've been having personal problems. I won't bore you with the details. Anyway, this was a short story I wrote for a writing contest at school, and I've had a lot of people tell me its good. I mean, I won the contest. Anyway I figured I'd share it. Epoch= Period. I picked it because its just a half a day in Deaths life. A short "Period". And I love big words.
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         She knew it was done the second she heard screams ring around her. She closed her eyes and turned from the slaughter, the bloodshed, she caused. Tears welled up and fell from her eyes before she could stop them. The cloying task of gathering the souls for recycling loomed over her. Some just needed an explanation in order to follow her, but most fought and needed to be captured.

    They never wanted to leave, the poor things. No matter how sweetly she chimed encouragements and promises, that she couldn't keep, of a better life, they always fought tooth and nail to stay. She was forced to trap them in her Devil's Trap, her instrument named fondly for the wind tubes that formed a pentagram.

    This time was no different, she thought as she played the haunting melody of the Song of Capture. The souls screamed as the instrument dragged them into it. She took a moment to wipe her eyes before running her claws along the ground. Reality itself tore in the wake of her magic. She hesitated only a moment before falling through the portal into Life's Manor.

    Entering Life's Manor always filled her with a sickly sweet power she wished more than anything she could hate. Life raised one of his finely sculpted brows in expectation at her form, which was sprawled on the floor. She swiftly got on her knees and started playing the Song of Freedom. She felt it was ironically named, for the souls left one hell only to join another.

    The screams of the damned souls, who were deemed impure by some force she knew nothing of, burned into ashes. She hated she sick sense of pleasure she got from their pain. She wanted to kill, to torture, more but with the same thought she wanted to heal, to save. She winced at the conflicting emotions alongside the look of pure unadulterated euphoria Life gave her. She felt the rush of pleasure that pleasing her Master always gave her, and hated herself more for it.

    "You did well, my sweet Death." Life said, his deep honeyed voice running over her like a waterfall of the coldest water on the hottest summer day. It felt good in the moment, but could kill later. After hearing only pained screaming for so long, she let herself revel in the sound for as long as she could.

    "Thank you, Master. I am glad you are pleased." She monotoned, not letting herself show any of the emotions she was forcing herself not to feel.

    Death did not like violence. She resented senseless murder and loathed everything she embodied. She wished Life had never created her.

    She existed solely to kill off the creature that life grew bored of. She pitied humans, who had yet to realize that their only purpose was to entertain an insane self-proclaimed God.

    It had not always been that way, Death remembers. A long time ago, Life and Death ruled as equals. They loved each other, for it was destined that Life could not without Death. Death loved leading old tired souls into Rebirth, the ability to live a new life, with both pain and pleasure. It didn't matter what that person did, for all souls were pure even though humanity was not. Life did not see it that way. He constantly mourned for his creations, because even if the soul was reborn, who that person was dead forever. Life began to resent Death for taking all his creations from him.

    Life went insane, and Death had to watch as the only thing she truly loved grew more and more mad. Life couldn't handle the grief human mortality caused him, so he shut down. He began to experience more pleasure killing souls than creating them, and Death watched in horror as her lover began creating the first truly evil souls.

    Death was startled by the screams that the "pure" souls released as their companions remains blew out an open window.

    "You're dismissed." Life said simply, boredly. Probably upset that all the fun is over, Death thought bitterly.

    She nodded, and quickly stalked to the giant oak door. It creaked open eerily and she stepped into the hallway. Tearing reality in Life's workshop was an idea that could only cause catastrophic consequences.

    The movements were dull an tedious, and Death created a door in less than half a minute. When she stepped through it into the house she was assigned, she sank to her knees and finally let herself feel.

    She sobbed for all the souls she murdered, begging them for forgiveness even though she knew they weren't alive to even consider forgiving her. She wailed for the love she lost long ago, who she wanted back with every fiber of her cursed body even though she knew it was impossible. Even if she could cure him, the grief would just drive him mad again. She could not survive having to watch that again, she knew.

    She cried until her knees ached and her limbs were stiff with inactivity. She hated herself. She hated every fiber of her being, what she embodied, and what she was forced to do. Everyday was a struggle, caught between wanting to be saved and have her happily ever after and wanting to die to escape all the pain that permeated her very being with every breath. But she can't even choose death, for Death cannot know itself. If there is Death, there is Life. Just as if there is Life, there must be Death.

    That didn't stop her from trying, though. Scars littered her entire body, failed attempts to achieve what she truly desires.

    Death envied the humans, for they could die.

    She stumbled over to her bookshelf, fingers running over the spines of well worn paper before coming to a particularly worn cover. She fondly looked at the leather cover. It was Life's old journal. Not a diary, he'd insist, sticking his tongue out happily in teasing before Death would giggle and respond; yes it is you're, just in denial.

    Death sighed at the memories of times long past, which she knew she would never get back. She glanced once more at the journal, before placing it back in its spot. She had to prepare for the next day, she had a lot of assignments. She hated war. She shut off her emotions, and walked out of her study, leaving all her happiest memories behind the door.