I Pause. "Centuries?"

"You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world...but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices."

- John Green, The Fault In Our Stars

The first few days after the wedding were the most…interesting. My Our people were picking themselves up after a long war. They didn’t know how this was supposed to work. How to bow to the person who had been responsible for the damage, the casualties.

Inside the castle, things were just as confusing. My Our servants tiptoed around the castle, scared to death of my new wife, unsure of how she would act as mistress of the castle and queen of the land. 

I did not regret my decision, not then, not now. The adjustment just took some time. The wedding in particular was…memorable. Allowing the woman responsible for so many deaths into my the church, standing by her side, taking the vows only broken in death, was a surreal experience. Letting her into my our bed that night was even harder. She had given the order that led to my own father and brother dying, not to mention some of my cousins and best friends. 

After a few months, we slowly grew to know each other better. 

Years passed. We forgave each other, for I had caused almost as much damage to her people as she had to mine. Although nothing could undo the damage, we slowly built a trust and friendship with each other. At the same time, my our people learned to trust and respect her, and her our people did the same for me. 

It was not a conscious change.

It was slow and tedious.

It took care and intention.

One day, I looked at her.

My wife, my queen, my partner, my best friend. The woman who had started a war that took the lives of my family and friends, my our people. And I realized…I loved her. 

What had started in an effort to simply end the war between our people, led to a marriage of convenience, ended in a marriage of love. 

My dear Helena, while I did not love you at first, I love you now. I love you still. Forever and always, my wife, queen of OUR people.

From the diary of King Carlos Rolfson, 3173 A.D., shortly after the death of his wife, Queen Helena Rolfson (3096 A.D.-3173 A.D.), married 56 years

You were a beloved ruler of your country. When the evil king/ queen tried to conquer your country, you fought to the death to protect your country. Seeing how much your people loved you, the evil king/ queen proposes that you two marry to merge your countries. You accept for your country's sake.

*turned out longer than intended, but I tried*

"Wait, so what do I do?"

Death turns and starts walking away. "Doesn't matter to me. I can't help you, sorry!"

With a huff of irritation, I find my way home. Strangely, I can't open the door; my hand passes right through the doorknob. But, when I try to go through it, all I get is a nasty bruise.

"Strange," I mutter to myself, inspecting the door. "Didn't expect that."

I end up waiting at the door of my former home for a few hours before my twin brother gets home. He parks his car and comes up, pulling out his keys.

As he unlocks the door, I slip in behind him. "Thanks," I say, even though I know he can't hear me.

He stops and tilts his head to the side for a second before shaking his head and setting his things down.

I freeze. Did he just hear me?

"Luke?" I try. "Can you- Can you hear me?"

He makes no movement that he did, and I deflate. Now what?

Upon further exploration, I discover that I can only touch things that belonged to me while I was alive. Books of mine? Yes. The TV remote that Luke bought? No. The crossword puzzle book that was a gift from Mom for both of us? Somehow works? The house that Luke bought and had let me live in for a few months? Apparently that was also a no.

With no idea what else to do, I sat down and started reading a book.

A few hours later, a loud crash sounds from the kitchen. I jump up, and find Luke making dinner (and dropping a pan on the floor). I'm about to turn around and leave, knowing he's okay, when I realize that there are tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Dang it," he whispers, picking up the pan. "Why is everything going wrong today?"

Right on cue, his phone rings. He answers it and sits down to talk to the caller.

"Hey, Mom. ... No, just making dinner. ... Yes, I'm fine. ... I have not been crying! ... Fine, okay, yes, I was." His voice wobbles a bit at the end of the sentence and he swipes a hand over his eyes.

"He was my twin, Mom. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

I swallow. However I was feeling, it was a hundred times worse for my family. I reach out as Luke continues talking to Mom, and put my hand on his shoulder.

Luke pauses again, glancing around the room before finishing his sentence.

"Luke?" I try again. "I'm okay. I'm here for you."

Luke looks up and smiles sadly. "I know, Mom. He's still with us."

I take my hand off his shoulder and step back, shocked.

Over the next week, I slowly piece together the ends and outs of my nonexistent afterlife. Luke cannot see or hear me on a regular basis. Only when he needs me does he ever hear anything. I eventually decide that he can't hear the words, only feel the sentiment.

And so, I go with Luke wherever he goes. I am with him when he meets a woman, and I nudge him in her direction. I am with him when he proposes, calming his nerves. Same on his wedding day, and when each of his three children are born.

I comfort him when our mother dies, happy and contented. When Death comes to take her, Luke is fully unaware of the conversation that happens in the room.

Death looks surprised to see me. "I expected you to be gone by now."

I roll my eyes. "I don't know where you thought I would go. You couldn't take me, remember? I had to figure it out myself."

My mother steps out of the shadows, her eyes fixed on Death. "You're here for me, I assume?"

"Mom?" My voice cracks.

She turns and her eyes widen at the sight of me. She dashes forward and hugs me tightly. "What are you doing here? I hoped to see you, I just didn't think it would be so soon!"

I gently pull myself out of the embrace, tears forming in my eyes. "I can't go with you. I've been here all this time, watching over Luke and you, because I can't go on."

My mother looks shocked. "But why?"

I shrug. "I wasn't supposed to die that day. There's no place for me."

My mother is crying. "You know we always loved you, right? We tried to make you happy."

Death clears his throat. "Touching, but we really ought to get going."

"No!" Mom shouts. "Why? Why can't he come too?"

Death sighed. "He wasn't supposed to die that day, he told the truth. There must have been something he left unfinished."

I shake my head. "I don't know what it is, Mom. I've tried. I'll be okay. I'll look after Luke and his family. Maybe I'll see you again someday."

Death takes her, glancing over his shoulder at me with a nod. I return it, waving at my mother as she disappears.

The years pass. Eventually, I start helping Luke's children, whispering in their ears when they fight, filling them with remorse. Calling out for them to be careful crossing the street, narrowly avoiding a car. Guiding them away from the meaner kids, and leading them to their new nest friends.

When my twin brother dies, the scene with Death repeats itself. This time it's harder to let go.

Death and I explain the problem to Luke, but he doesn't accept it, shouting at us. Even when I promise to look out for his kids, all he can do is scream, tears rolling down his cheeks.

I walk away first, sobbing.

Many years later, Luke's daughter gives birth to twins. I immediately fall in love with them. Over the years, I help them over and over again, as I had been doing for ages.

Then came the fateful day. Death appeared out of nowhere as I was watching the 17 year old twins at a school dance.

Death sits down next to me. "Well, your time is just about done."

"What?!" My jaw drops. "Really? You're going to take me this time? Why?"

Death sighs. "You'll see."

I scan the crowd, looking for the twins. I find Kaleb easily, but not Kylie.

A few seconds later, a scream erupts from the back of the room. The crowd parts for teachers rushing through, revealing Kylie, lying on the floor.

Death stands.

"No!" I shout, grabbing at him. "I'll stay! You can't take her!"

Death pulls free of my grasping hands. "It's already too late." He points a long, pale finger, and I see Kylie's spirit in the corner, looking around confused.

I run up to her, followed closely by Death.

"Am I...dead?" She asks, unsure.

"Please," I whisper, standing in front of her. "Don't take her."

"Wait, I know you!" Kylie exclaims. "Grandpa Luke's brother! But you've been dead for like eighty years!"

Death shakes his head at me. "I'm not taking her. I'm taking you. She will stay."

Kylie looks even more confused now. "But...I'm dead, aren't I? How can I stay?

I draw in a breath. "Kylie, I've spent my time helping my family. They, I guess you, could sometimes hear me, like a little voice in their heads. You can probably do the same."

Death reaches for my hand.

I scramble back. "No, wait! Kylie, I thought this would be forever. I wasn't supposed to die young. Neither were you! Maybe that's why this is happening. You have to live first, do something worthwhile before you can pass on."

Death succeeds in grabbing my hand this time and starts to pull me away.

"You'll be okay, Kylie!" I shout back to her. "We'll be waiting for you!"

Death and I leave Kylie behind, looking bewildered.

We step through a dark veil, and when we emerge on the other side I see the most wonderful sight I'd ever seen.

My family.

Death looks at you, baffled. “You’re not supposed to be dead.” You raise a brow. “I’m not?” “Nope,” Death says. “Huh… that’s never happened before.” Confused, you ask, “Do I get to go to an afterlife now?” Death shrugs. “You can’t, because you’re not officially dead.”

“I don’t get it.”

I sigh. “I know. Me either.”

My boyfriend scratches his head in confusion. “You’re telling me that you are the biological daughter of Death. That Death actually…did the deed with someone? That just seems so wrong.”

I nod in agreement. “I don’t even know who it was. My money is on one of the old gods. But it could have been a mortal.”

Jake wrinkles his nose. “You don’t think it was a ghost, do you?”

I roll my eyes. “Not really how it works. So, no. Anyway, I kinda gave up asking several years ago. He’s my dad, he loves me, and he’ll tell me literally anything except who my mom is. Besides, am I really missing that much?”

Jake crosses his arms. “Yes! I love my mom! You should ask again. You need a good excuse though…”

“Don’t be silly!” I reach over and smack him lightly. “I’m not going to bug my dad just to satisfy your curiosity on a subject that he has made it clear he doesn’t want to discuss! Grow up!”

“Ow,” Jake mutters, glaring playfully and rubbing his arm. His eyes light up. “Ooh, say you need to know for your medical records! Or a genealogy assignment for school!”

“He-” I stop. Actually, he might believe the medical one. I look away, refusing to play the game. “No.”

“Come on!”

I shake my head. 

“Please,” Jake pleads, giving me his puppy dog eyes. 

I lose the staring contest and groan, going inside the house to see if I can get an answer this time.

Ten minutes later, I come back outside.

Jake is practically bouncing with excitement. “Well? What did he say?”

When I stay quiet, he deflates a bit. “Didn’t work?”

“Oh, it worked,” I say quietly. 

Jake is breathless. “And?”

I look up at him, an unreadable expression on my face.

“My mother is Queen Elizabeth II.”

You are the child of Death. Everyone always assumes that you were adopted, but you are in fact Death's biological child, although they are unwilling to tell how exactly this happened.

She sighed. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

I shrugged. “Just trying to lighten the mood, Sara. You look tense.”

She growled - growled! - at me. “Look, we only have 5 more minutes before this thing explodes. Or…whatever it’s going to do. I’d rather not find out. Pass me that paper.”

I pantomimed zipping my lips, and sat back, watching her frantically scribble on the paper, trying to figure out the right code to shut off the machine.

3 minutes went by. I couldn’t help myself. “Need help yet?”

Sara was practically shaking with nerves. “I can’t figure it out! I’ve tried everything!”

I leaned forward and gently took the paper out of her hands. She tried to snatch it back and I tossed it in the trash.

She threw up her hands in frustration. “Fine! You try then!” She glanced at the timer.

A minute and a half.

I grinned as I leaned around her and pressed a few buttons. The timer started counting down faster.

I winced. “Whoops.”

Sara groaned and slumped down with her head in her hands.

I rolled my eyes and pressed a few more buttons, making the machine stop counting completely. She slowly looked up. “Wha- How? I mean, thank you, but…”

I gave her a mock bow. “If you had listened to me before, I could have told you that I had two codes to try. Got one out of the genius’ brother and the other out of the maker himself. Didn’t know which was the right one, but I was about 75% sure one of them would work.”

Sara blushed sheepishly. “I- sorry. I should have listened to you.”

I shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, you were only off by one number.”

She hugged me. “Thanks. Now what do we do?”

I grinned mischievously, and grabbed a bat from the corner of the garage.

Writing Prompt #2782

"Would you stop trying to help?" She snapped. "You're getting in the way. I just need to do things my way right now."

"Oh. Yeah. I'll just...sit here and be eye candy. That's all I'm good for."

"Oh. Yeah, it was tricky. Thankfully, I'm very smart. What do you think?"

"Unfortunately, I'm impressed."

“How could you?” “I can expla-“ “No, I don’t mean morally. Logistically how could you even pull something like this off?”

Lilith watched gleefully. She had been waiting for this moment for so long. The stupid hero who had been tormenting Lilith's band of mercenaries and assassins. Amelia was finally under her control, and she could do whatever she wanted to her.

Of course, she wouldn't actually do it herself. That was beneath her. Instead, she watched as her second in command, Carson, tortured the annoying girl.

Lilith laughed as Amelia screamed. When she plead for mercy, and Carson looked to Lilith, she just shook her head. When Amelia passed out, Lilith motioned for people to revive her. When the sun crept lower on the horizon, making the clearing dark, Lilith finally sighed and allowed several people to lock Amelia up for the night.

They would resume in the morning.

... ... ... ... ...

Amelia couldn't believe how stupid she had been. She could have kicked herself as she was dragged into the camp, except for the fact that her feet were bound tightly together.

She looked away when she saw Carson's face. The horror was well hidden behind his eyes, but they both knew what would come next. They both knew that they couldn't blow his cover. Which meant, they both knew it had to be done well.

And he did. For hours, Amelia was chained to a tree while Carson - her Carson - tortured her. She couldn't look at him while he yelled at her. She bit her lip when he whipped her. She looked away when she screamed as he cut into her.

She met his eyes only once. She lifted her head groggily when she heard Lilith shouting something. Carson hit her again at Lilith's urging, and Amelia moaned in pain. Carson flinched, but thankfully, his back was to Lilith and Amelia was the only one to see. She looked at him, meeting his eyes and giving an almost imperceptible nod.

When he hit her again, she finally fell limp, blackness claiming her.

... ... ... ... ...

Carson hated himself. When they dragged Amelia into the camp, bruised and bloodied, he had thought she was dead. When she moved and saw him, they both knew the moment when they realized it would have been better if she had been.

Carson floated through the day in a daze. He retreated into himself while he hurt Amelia, the one thing he had sworn to never do. The only time he snapped free and realized what he was doing was when she let out a moan. They had looked at each other, and he had known that he had to keep going.

He had to get her out. When most of the camp was asleep, he sneaked into the tent where Amelia was kept and cut her loose.

Carson shook her desperately until she stirred. He handed her his knife and spirited her away to the edge of the forest. She was barely awake, but she managed to rasp out, "What about you?"

He shook his head. "I'll be fine. They won't know."

They both knew that wasn't true. Amelia resisted, but finally Carson convinced her to leave him, agreeing that it was time to pull him out.

... ... ... ... ...

A week later, Amelia arrived back at camp with a team to extract Carson, only to find out that he was gone.

ohhh we love a good “forced to torture your friend while undercover as a bad guy” don’t we

like. when you meet their eyes and you both know you have to do it and you have to do it well

“How did you do that?!” I shriek.

The Knight is staring at her sword in surprise and shock. She looks up with wide eyes. 

“I don’t know!” she cries out. 

I hesitantly raise the gun again and pause. “Can you…do it again?” I ask curiously.

She shrugs, equally curious. “Try it.”

I fire…and she manages to parry it again.

The gun drops to my side in shock, and she drops her sword like it’s on fire. She stares at it in horror.

“It must be cursed!” she yelps, backing away from her sword.

I roll my eyes. “Really?”

The Knight trembles with fear. “I traded for it a few weeks ago. Traveling trader. She said it was special, but I thought she just meant that it was forged well! This is my first time actually fighting with it!”

I stare at her. “Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that you brought a sword to a gun battle…and you hadn’t even used it yet?! What kind of Knight are you?!”

She shrugs sheepishly. “A not very experienced one?”

“Parry this you filthy casual.” You pull the trigger… and begin to panic as the Knight ACTUALLY parries the bullet.

“Today has been pretty good. Not many visitors. I started a new book about-” My voice cuts off abruptly as I stare at her. “You…you just wasted your question. Why would you do that?”

She smiles gently. “I didn’t need it.”

“But…” I am lost. Confused. “Why?”

“Because,” she says, reaching out and putting her hand on my arm. “I thought you could use a friend. So could I. What’s your book about?”

Numbly, I start explaining the intricacies of my book, offering her some refreshments.

And that is how the strangest friendship I’ve ever had began.

You have been a mountaintop prophet for 1,000 years. Each person only gets one question and you’re sure you’ve heard every question that can be asked. Until one day someone uses their one question to ask, “How are you doing?”

“I don’t understand why you can’t help me!”

The angry girl slammed her hand down on the table.

I sighed. “Look, ma’am, I have security, and I’m not afraid of calling them. You need to calm down.”

She gritted her teeth. “Can you give me anything? A hint? A city? A state?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you. If you speak to the receptionist, she will issue a refund, along with something special for your trouble.”

The girl stood up in a huff. “Some matchmaker you are. Why can’t you help me?”

I sighed again. “I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you, is that you don’t have to be with your soulmate. Soulmates are overrated. You can be with anyone you choose. Some people never find their soulmates and are perfectly happy. Or you can choose to be happy without a partner. Get a dog. Adopt a kid. Move in with a friend. This doesn’t mean that you have to be alone.”

The girl rolled her eyes and flounced out of my back room. A few minutes later, I heard her arguing with the receptionist loudly.

“Why couldn’t you help her?”

I yelped in surprise as my apprentice appeared behind me, emerging from the closet.

I groaned. “Jason! How many times have I told you not to do that?”

Jason grinned. “I think this makes 237.” He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and made a note, presumably marking this event as number 238. He snapped it shut, then looked at me seriously.

“But for real, why was she so mad? Could you not see her string?”

“I could see it,” I said quietly. “But it wasn’t red anymore. I couldn’t be the one to tell her that.”

Jason nodded slowly. “What does that mean again? I know the string gets brighter when you are close to the other person. Doesn’t it turn purple if the other person is with someone else? Was her string purple?”

I shook my head. “It was black.”

Jason thought for a minute before shaking his head. “I don’t remember that.”

“Jason,” I groaned. “You’ve been my apprentice for over a year! Anyway, black means the other person is…dead.” I shuddered, the memories resurfacing.

His face was suitably remorseful. “Sorry. I forgot, I didn’t mean to…”

My eyes were unfocused as I flew down memory lane. The first time I remember seeing the strings, when I learned what that meant, seeing my own.

Then the less pleasant memories. Telling people who their soulmate was, only to have them upset that it wasn’t who they wanted. Finding my soulmate, only to watch my string turn black after only a few months. Figuring out how to sever a string. 

The receptionist knocked on the door, startling me out of my thoughts. “Sorry, I just locked up. Thought I would go ahead and give you the day's earnings before I leave. See you tomorrow?”

I nodded and watched her leave. Then I looked at the money on the table in front of me and started counting it. 

It might not be the most pleasant business.

But it sure paid well.

Some say that an invisible red string is tied around the fingers of soulmates meant to be together forever. As it turns out, you can see these red strings, and have therefore created a highly successful matchmaking business.