The River and The Ocean

Death passed through the frigid night air, his wings creaking like the mast of a great ship. He was never certain why he needed to move his wings to fly, seeing as the feeble scraps of flesh which stretched between his bare bones lacked the surface area necessary to generate any sort of lift. He couldn't explain how the pegasi native to this land were able to fly, either, it was just the way things were done.

He swooped downward, feeling the cold air twist inside the exposed chasm of his rib cage as he dived toward the humble wooden forms of the Apple family plantation. Beneath him, trees bare of leaves stretched up their twisting forms. A reminder of his grim task.

He paused before the door, smoothing out the nearly translucent spider web mane that hung over his face. At times like this, the embodiment of life's futility wished he possessed lungs so he could take a deep breath to steel himself. With a hoof, chipped and cracked as dying stone, he rapped on the wooden door.

After a moment, the door opened slightly, revealing a tan face covered with freckles.

Applejack smiled at her infrequent visitor. “Howdy, Death. If y’all are here to warn me about the black widow’s nest in the woodpile, me and Big Macintosh already sorted that out.

“That’s not why I’m here, Applejack; I need you to step outside.”

“Well, that’s what I was gonna do,” replied the tan earth pony, as she reached for her stetson hat where it hung by the door. In mid-action, she paused, realizing the potential significance of her skeletal visitor and added, “is there something dangerous in the house? I’ll go get Applebloom.”

“No,” interrupted Death hastily, then added, “you need to come outside alone.”

Applejack narrowed her eyes, at the sudden statement. “Wait a second, what are y’all playing at?”

“I’m not playing at anything, Apple-honey-sweetness-old-thing, I just need you to come outside. And take a walk by the creek, just like you were planning to.” The skeletal specter scraped his hooves against the rough wood beneath him, cursing the vague nature of his day planner.

“Nah,” replied Applejack, checking to make sure that the door chain was secured, “I’m actually feeling mighty tired now. Best go get some shuteye before.”

“Applejack, your time has come,” barked the shadow that chases all who live, stomping his hooves on the ground. The ground itself wailed beneath his blow, but the door only closed in his face.

Inside her home, the earth pony threw the dead bolt across before shouting, “Nah, I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check on that.”

“What do you mean, rain check? Your mortal coil has run its course and it is time to walk forth into the night, both metaphorically and literally.” Death pressed himself against the wood of the door as he spoke, trying to will his words through the barrier.

“I cain’t die, Death; Big Macintosh and Applebloom would be lost without me.”

"It'll be painless, I promise. Quickest and easiest thing you've ever done."

Applejack paused in her efforts to barricade the door with the chairs from the kitchen. "Y'all promise?"

"Um ..." Death flipped back through his tome. "Well, no, actually you'll be crushed under a tree and it will be quite agonizing. One of your eyeballs is gonna pop like a grape and your lungs will fill with blood, causing you to drown as you cough out your own life. Then there's the paperwork we have to fill out after you're expired."

"Not interested."

Death tossed his spiderweb mane in frustration. His hooves left deep imprints of foul decay as he paced back and forth on the porch, trying to remember the words of reassurance for the fallen. "Don’t you want to see your parents again?”

“My parents retired to Las Pegasus; I see them every Hearth’s Warming.”

"What about your ... your other ancestors?”

“Y’all ain’t collected nopony I’ve known the entire time I’ve been alive.”

Losing all sense of his dignity, Death begged, “please? I’ve got to take someone.”

“Twist, then, I hear her parents have been encouraging her to play in traffic,” replied Applejack as she scooted a chair in front of the door.

“That would mean walking down the long corridor of gray with her and ...” Death shuddered, rattling his very bones because that is what he was made of. “No, it has to be you. Now are you going to come out, or am I going to have to come in and get you.”

“Y’all come in here and yer gettin' a frying pan across the back of y’alls skull.”

“I am the eternal shadow cast by the light of existence, you can’t expect a frying pan to hurt me.”

“It worked on the Simpsons.”

“That was a bowling ball,” the spectre sighed a death rattle of exasperation.

“Well, Applebloom has one of those too,” Applejack’s voice was muffled as if she were gripping something in her mouth, “Now, y’all get off my porch and don’t come back until yer feeling more neighborly.”

“I’m not ... I’m ... I’ve got to ...” Death kicked the ground around him, sending tendrils of rot through the air itself as his frustration bled out in a blasphemous shroud. This was impossible. How could you sell the concept of death to creatures whose only conscious awareness was of life? It wasn't fair. To him. With a huff, Death kicked off and flew into the sky.