Do you know those really small public bathroom windows that are usually covered in a suspicious layer of grime? Well, I’m currently trying to squish my way through one. I’m pretty sure once I suck my gut in enough to unstick my lower body, I’ll tumble straight through and kiss the concrete. Yay!

 

But there is absolutely no way I’m ever going back! If I don’t get through this window, I’m going to die because Death is waiting in the other room.

 

Yes, the Death. The immortal being that can snuff out your life just because they feel like it. I admit that this meeting with Death was premature. My originally scheduled Death Day isn’t for years and years.

 

But I so happen to be in the position where I don’t want to die. For one, it doesn’t sound appealing to me. I find myself wary of leaving my fate to an absent deity. Maybe they care. Maybe they don’t. That’s not the point. Cause I don’t see the appeal of becoming one with dirt. Sharing your body with wriggly worms in an enclosed space? Disgusting!

 

Now, as for the other reason…well, we’ll get to that.

 

Still, you may be thinking that it’s unavoidable and, for normal people, you’d be right. But I’ve never subscribed to normal. I happen to have an (un)healthy relationship with Risk. I mean, the only way to cheat Death is to take a risk. (Sound advice. Remember that).

 

Just don’t get caught! Cause then you’re utterly screwed!

 

How did I end up with this spectacular idea to cheat Death, you may ask? Well, first, there are some things you should know about Death, our life-long stalker. As Sun Tzu puts it: ‘Know thy enemy’ and all that! So, I’ve complied a short list for you. Take note, your life depends on it.

 

1. Death is a walking cliché.

 

They like fulfilling the world’s expectations of themself. It’s why they do their job so well. People want them to look like a creepy skeleton with a wacky wizard robe and curvy scythe, then that’s what they get! With Death, you see what you expect to see.

 

2. Death isn’t completely mentally stable.

 

I’m not a psychology expert but if I had to diagnose Death, I’d say they have dissociative identity disorder. Since so many people have so many conflicting versions of Death, they sometimes get all twisted up inside. For one, they have so many names: Anubis, Hades, Satan, Grim Reaper … Keeping up is hard. Not to mention that they also must be in a billion places at once. Collecting souls is a manual process after all.

 

3. Death has a love-hate relationship with Life.

 

It’s toxic. They’re always fighting. Different hobbies, right? Still, they’re consta ntly around each other so there’s probably *something* happening!

 

4. Death has a gambling problem.

 

They simply can’t resist. It’s an itch that never goes away. I think it’s because their existence gets so monotonous. Destroying people, been there done that! I wish they could switch careers. But apparently Death is important to ‘universal balance.’ Anyway, Death gambles to spice things up. This is probably the most important thing you can know about Death. Since, you know, it’s useful for scheming minds like myself.

 

With this invaluable information, I decided to make a bet with Death. If I won, Death must leave me alone forever. I’ll have no worries about dying and I can relax and live life freely. If I lost, Death could do whatever they wanted with me. They’d probably take my soul for some nefarious purpose. Yes, losing is horrible but doing nothing at all will still end with my soul in Death’s hands. So, I thought, why not try?

 

Based on what I know about Death’s prior bets, people are caught up in this grand idea that chess is the way to go. Once, a chess grandmaster issued Death a challenge. He lost within 20 minutes. They always lose. Probably because after centuries of being challenged to the same game over and over, Death is what you would call an expert. I wasn’t going to do that. I preferred to keep things simple. Especially since I am complete crap at chess. Rather, I hoped to throw Death off their game.

 

So, in the end, I challenged Death to War. Yes, War, the card game. Cause, why not? War is a game of Luck. My 100% chance of dying just became a 50/50 shot of living. Besides, how many people can say they’ve gone to War with Death?

 

With these details ironed out, I went looking for Death in the nearest casino. I found Death attached to a roulette table. How did I recognize them? Well, other than your typical menacing aura of doom, my Death manifested as a five-year old child. This “child” looked like they just rolled out of bed with spiderman pajamas and unruly black hair.

 

I like to say I’m self-aware. Death manifesting as a child makes perfect sense. They were the perfect mirror image of the child that haunted me every time I closed my eyes. A child that would die because of me. But we’ll talk about that later. Let’s stay in the moment for now.

 

Let’s go back to the roulette wheel where like any gambling addicted creature, Death’s whole body vibrated in tune with the spinning wheel. Their eyes remained steadfast. To them, nothing else mattered but discovering the end result. I doubt they would have noticed (nor cared) if a bomb went off right next to them. Still, when the wheel finished its route, Death ultimately lost the gamble (a good sign for me at least). Normal people would be disappointed, but to Death their manic laugh meant they didn’t care. Death craved the uncertainty. They thrived on it.

 

Knowing that Death could play roulette until the table rotted, I made sure to intervene before the betting started up again. But like any self-proclaimed celestial being, Death beat me to the punch saying, “Is this the part where you challenge me to a game for your immortality? Because you look like the desperate sort, and I do love a good challenge!”

 

With their posh voice that just sounded completely creepy coming out of such a small child’s body, I couldn’t stop my face from contorting in indignation. How dare Death corrupt this child. How dare they make light of our misfortune. I wanted to slap the jittery know-it-all. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t hit a child, especially not that one.

 

You know how everything is like a game for children? It’s like that with Death too. Their soul-stealing gig was nothing but a video game to them. And when they quirked an eyebrow at me as they rocked on the soles of their feet and popped a lollipop in their mouth, I wanted nothing more than to teach them a lesson. It was about time Death lost.

 

So, I told this pompous, millennia-old serial killer the terms of my deal. A winner takes all game of War. My soul’s eternal imprisonment or eternal freedom. Death didn’t hesitate to accept. All they wanted was the thrill of a new game. My life was just a part of it.

 

With a flick of their wrist, a lengthy contract appeared in Death’s hand. They had already signed it. They gave me a pen. When I grabbed it, it stung my fingers, drawing blood to fill the pen with fresh ink. I ignored my shaking hand. I ignored the doubts building in my head as I skimmed the contract. I had to do this. I ignored everything as I signed it. The contract disappeared and Death grinned.

 

As if by magic, which was probably just my own nerves numbing everything, Death brought me to a private room with ornate chairs and a wooden table carved with faces of the damned along the rim. Death skipped over to the table, plopped down into their chair and propped their feet up on the table. Not a care in the world. The pest looked a little too confident.

 

As for me? I’m ashamed to say I was more hesitant. It took me a good minute to finally sit down in that chair. It creaked. I shuddered.

 

The careful shuffling of cards brought me back to my senses. I took a deep breath. Game on.

 

The game of War is quite simple. I had my army of cards and Death had theirs. We start off evenly matched with our cards facing down, and every round, we put an unknown champion forth and hope our card had the higher rank to secure victory over the battle. The higher-ranking winner gets to capture and integrate the loser’s card into their army. Gain complete control of the whole deck and you win.

 

Easy right? Death surely thought so. Just before the first battle commenced, they snapped their fingers with glee and giggled. “It’s a game of Luck over Strategy! How quaint. I must thank you for your lack of conformity. You have no understanding just how tedious chess can get.” They giggled some more. “Dear me, it is like enduring a conversation with my cousin Law, who wouldn’t know spontaneity if it struck them in the face!”

 

Death grinned over a whiskey glass that was wider than their two, small pudgy hands put together. “Of course, you don’t mind if we use a magic deck, right?”

 

I held their gaze. No point in backing down now. “Of course not.”

 

“Good.”

 

Ever so slowly, we each grabbed a card and placed it in the center of the table. Death stretched their hands wide. “Let the battle commence!”

 

The cards immediately flipped over, contorting into card-like soldiers as if straight out of Alice in Wonderland. My card was an elegant Queen of Hearts. The Queen’s blood red spear didn’t hesitate to stab straight through Death’s lowly Seven of Diamonds. It fluttered to the table limply. The Queen stabbed the card again and dragged it over to me. With a final salute, both cards fit themselves at the bottom of my deck.

 

This time, I grinned. I won this round. Things were looking up. I could see a Death-free life ahead of me.

 

Rather than showing disappointment in their first loss, Death whooped and clap ped. “Good show! That was fun! Let’s go again.”

 

Good show for Death indeed because like all good things, my Luck evaporated. Poof.

 

It quickly became a massacre. Card after card went up against Death’s army only to get captured as prisoners of war. With every card stabbed, I felt my skin tear too. I became covered in dozens of cuts. Death smirked the whole time. They played like they had already won. In a way, they had.

 

I couldn’t stop sweating and smearing blood as I wiped my hands on my jeans. Death giggled the more distressed I became. My life was a joke to them. What many mortals don’t know is that Death has a secret betting pool with a select group of Celestials (the ones who don’t care about Death’s gambling problem, of course). They enjoy guessing the reason why humans decide to bet against Death. Currently, the majority are leaning towards deadly disease as the cause of my gamble. But Death knew better. Death always knows. And Death knew just the right things to say. Or, rather annoy me with because I definitely didn’t want to answer them. Death could shove their bet where the sun doesn’t shine. But it is important to keep your opponent happy long enough for you to defeat them. That and there are only so many Tell me, Tell me. Tell me’s one can take without losing it. (Dear me, they were really taking advantage of their child-like form).

 

So, just as my Three of Hearts received a violent blow through its center, Death caught my wincing gaze, smirked and just as they opened their mouth to begin another round of pestering, I finally snapped saying through clenched teeth, “Fine. Must there be a reason other than not wanting you to kill me?”

 

Laughing with glee, Death exclaimed, “I suppose not! Oh, you humans! Such insane creatures!”

 

Pot meet kettle.

 

“But that’s not the real reason…. hmmmm? That’s only part of it. I recall something along the lines of a certain…. dream perhaps?”

 

It’s never a good sign when your enemy knows your greatest fear. That statement made my blood freeze.

 

I’ll tell you a secret. I come from a long line of psychics. But unlike my very gifted mother, my psychic ability is pretty much useless. Hell, it’s more of a curse. For years, I’ve only ever seen one thing. My death. Over and over and over and over again.

 

It’s a horrible death too. It’s of a car that loses traction one winter when the roads are slick with ice. It’s of a little five-year-old child playing in their parents’ yard. They’re too slow to move out of the way of an out-of-control car. There is a sickening crack and so much blood. Blood in my mouth. Blood seeping between the twisted piece of metal jammed through my chest. Blood from a wide-eyed child gasping for breath on the hood of my car. The last thing I remember before waking up is that child’s eyes losing light and Death’s laughter ringing in my ears.

 

I relive my Death every day. It’s enough to drive anyone mad. Can you blame me for wanting to change it? To stop it? It can’t possibly be worse. Right?

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Yes. Yes you do. But that’s alright.” Death leaned forward. “It’ll be our little secret.” They whispered.

 

I slapped another card onto the table hoping the pain would jolt me back into focus.

 

“Fate.” Death said. “You can’t truly escape it. But you can make it worse.”

 

This time when my card was speared straight through, I felt like I was the one being stabbed through the chest. Because not only did Death know, but I was down to my last card.

 

I was going to lose. It’s weird, you know. How much I don’t want to die. How much I fear Death. Death says I can’t escape Fate, but it can’t hurt to try again. This game isn’t working. I guess I’ll just have to keep running.

 

It was time to cut my losses. Plan B, as it were. That’s right, I planned for a shit-show scenario as well.

 

I told Death that I had to go to the bathroom. I know. I know. Not very clever or complicated but sometimes it’s best to keep things simple in an already complicated situation. As I got up, Death glanced over the top of their whiskey glass and waved me away. Death’s eyes tracked me all the way to the bathroom. The moment that door swung shut, I ran to that grim-covered window.

 

And, so, here we are. Me, halfway out a window. Death, in the other room, swinging their short legs back and forth while drinking whiskey.

 

I had to escape before Death caught up to me.

 

Now, I realize I signed a contract and all. But don’t worry, I’ve thought this through! The thing about this contract is that it only covers the end result of the game. It’s not finished yet. You could say it is in limbo. Death has to catch me first to do anything about it and I’ve got plenty of charms to keep me hidden. Besides, Death is a busy fella and can’t take any more time off than they already have looking for me. That’s a job for their henchmen to do. Luckily, they’re brainless creatures. So, no worries there.

 

Secondly, Life doesn’t approve of Death’s gambling problem. They won’t risk making a big deal about it. Rather, it’s all on the down low.

 

Thirdly, there’s a loophole that many people don’t consider. The contract states that Death can have my soul only after the game’s completion. Not before. And especially not during. As long as I don’t complete my turn, Death can’t play his last card. Essentially, the game is in limbo. And, as long as the game is still going, Death can’t touch me!

 

I win.

 

That thought spurred me on and with a final grunt, I fell through the window. My body sprawled on the wet ground. Smiling, I moved to push myself up, but a pair of sneakers came into view. My smile slipped from my face as my eyes slowly wandered upward only to see Death’s grinning face and solid black eyes.

 

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You humans are all the same – thinking you are two steps ahead when you’re quite permanently ten steps behind.” Death mocked as I scrambled backward until my back hit the casino’s cement wall.

 

Walking closer Death continued speaking, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I exist to finish things. Games. Life. It’s why we argue so much. In fact, I daresay you should have made a deal with Life. They are much more sympathetic to you creatures. Especially after we fight.”

 

Death leaned closer to my face. With our noses barely touching, Death whispered, “There’s something you should know about the contracts. They’re just for show – to make you humans more comfortable and open to play! They cannot bind my power. I work outside Law. Now, don’t get me wrong. If you had won fairly, I would have honored our agreement. In fact, since you were losing, I was thinking about letting you go anyway. Just for the fun of it. You did make my day exciting. But I don’t like cheaters and, well, let’s face it dear, you cheated.”

 

My lip trembled but I refused to give Death the satisfaction of seeing my tears. I readied myself for one last attempt to bargain. Death hushed me saying, “Oh no mortal. You came to me. And Death is what you shall receive.”

 

Our eyes locked and all I saw was darkness suffocating me into oblivion.