Death, Viktor Chemmel, Max Vandenburg, And Humanity

The Seen Shadow

The Appearance of Max Vandenburg as of 1951.

I haven't seen Max since 1947 and even then it was just a glimpse as I was still cleaning up the mess of souls that were being released from their carbon prisons from knives, guns, or just bare fists. Anyway, I finally got a good look at Max in 1951. He was in his early 30s, he put on some muscle along with a nice tux, his hair was still like feathers along with his swampy eyes, he also grew a few inches but other than that he was the same Max as he was in the Hubermanns basement.

He seemed to disappear into the crowd of people as he was walking occasionally whispering a faint, "Sorry," as he bumped into the occasional person.
I can't tell you if he was going to a job interview or if he was just looking nice for the Hell of it because once I saw him and got a good look I was distracted by another soul, another body.

However, a few minutes later I had to return to the street Max was walking on, why? Well, he was hit by a car with the cars driver hurling insults at him, ones I'd rather not repeat. Once he was done the driver sped off leaving Max on the ground gasping for air. His clean tux, brown and white, was now brown and red. Now, I know I've made this mistake before, thinking that Max Vandenburg is dead before he actually is although if his soul gets to high I wouldn't have been able to get it so I decided to come down off the roof I was on and stand next to him, waiting for his soul to be ready. But once again I was avoided by Max Vandenburg and four people came down from the sidewalk and helped him up, one calling for a doctor in the process.
A doctor and ambulance did come and it took Max away, that would be the last time I would see him for a few weeks but the next time I saw Max, I guess I should say meet, I will never forget.

Death as of 1951

I realized I never properly introduced myself, my name is Death. I carry the souls of deceased humans and along with doing that I also quite enjoy and hate watching humans in their daily lives. As for the sake of my appearance I can tell you this:

I have pockets I use to keep things I've taken from humans I find interesting.
I wear a black robe when it's cold.
I have hands.
I have feet.
I have a face.
I have eyes.
I have a mouth.
I do not look like the Grimm Reaper.
I do not have any type of weapon, just my bare hands.
I do feel, emotionally and physically.

The rest is up to your interpretation. Now let's get back into the story, after all, I never was one for cliffhanger or suspense.

Three weeks passed and I payed another visit to Max Vandenburg.
He came home from the hospital after being in another coma, a short one but still significant enough to impact his health. He was home for three days before this incident happened.

I came through the door expecting to see him on the floor in front of me bleeding copious amounts of blood but instead he was laying down on his bed barely breathing.
I shut the door and walked into his bedroom. There were a bundle of dirty clothes at the foot of his bed along with a bottle of booze. Other than that one spot his room was relatively clean. He had a brown wooden dresser and a small nightstand with a book on top of it titled, "The Concentration Camp." The room wasn't very big and had beaten up light brown wooden floors along with wallpaper that looked like it used to be white but is now more of a brownish grey color.

Curiosity got the best of me and I decided to hover over Max's body, watching him sleep. While I was watching him I finally realized why the Book Thief watched him during the first few days he stayed with them, it was mesmerizing. The way his chest puffed up and then deflated ever so slightly would've definitely made someone who took just a glance think he was dead.
Eventually he woke and the expression on his face both surprised and puzzled me, he looked shocked and with that shock came the panic afterwards.