I could feel my throat tightening. I worked to slow my breathing, but already my vision was going dark. Weakly I put a finger to my lips and felt the frothy foam bubbling from my mouth. My head was spinning.
Jason, I thought. It had to be him. But why? Constricting blood vessels left me incapable of processing the implications. I probably only had a matter of minutes before my heart would stop.
I sat slumped against the wall, staring at my feet, trying to maintain focus and awareness just a little longer. The darkness closed in on my vision, eating away at the world around me. Suddenly the knobby, twisted handle of an old scythe jabbed the floor between my feet, followed by bone feet barely concealed by a tattered black robe.
My gaze followed the flowing ripples in the cloth until I saw the face of Death in my tunnel vision. A hissing, mangled voice cracked in my ear. “I have come for you,” said Death.
I wheezed and choked on my own foaming saliva. I couldn’t speak.
“There is,” the voice continued, “another way.”
My head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. My weakening neck struggled to point my gaze up at the reaper of the doomed.
“The one who took your life owes me a debt.” His words slithered through my mind, pricking at my soul. “Help me collect the debt, and you may live again.”
I could feel my lungs filling with fluid. I was drowning. My heart was heaving against the constricting veins and arteries. I could hardly think. I just wanted to live. I opened my mouth to speak but again I couldn’t even cough.
“Do we have a deal?”
I mouthed, “yes,” as best I could, then everything faded.
When I opened my eyes I was standing beside Death watching Jason. He was sitting at a table hunched over a book surrounded by vials and containers filled with various liquids.
Raged boiled inside me. I clenched my fists and took a step forward but Death’s bony fingers shot out and grabbed my arm.
With a professional, deep, almost kind voice, Death said, “Stay here. He can’t see us, but if you get too close he’ll know we’re here.”
I stared at Death, my eyebrows cocked. “What happened to your voice?”
“Oh that?” He laughed. “That’s just the way I sound to mortals. You’re dead now, man.”
I stared a moment longer then turned my attention to Jason. “What is he doing?”
“That is a book of potions, poisons, and other forbidden apothecary. He just tested his latest brew on you, and he’s looking to improve it.” He sounded almost… proud.
Once again my face contorted trying to understand. “And this is a problem?”
“Oh definitely not!” Death declared. “But he has not paid the price I charged for the book.”
“And what price was that?” I asked.
“The life of his one true love.” Death’s voice was bathed in amusement and pleasure.
“Didn’t his wife die years ago?”
“Yes,” Death said. “But it wasn’t him who took her life.”
“So how can he pay the debt now?”
Death turned to face me. “He can’t.”
My eyes bulged. “So… how am I supposed to collect the debt he owes you?”
Death turned back to face Jason. “I’m not sure,” he said ominously. Then his cloak billowed and crumpled quickly in on itself, and he was gone.
I looked around frantically, but he was gone.
Several years passed. I learned what it meant to be dead. I was, essentially, a ghost that had been sent to haunt Jason. I could pass through walls, exert myself to knock vases over, give him chills, and moan spooky things in his ear. All the “usual” stuff. But it seemed I would be trapped this way for the eternities. The question plagued my mind day and night. How could I get him to pay the debt if his one true love was gone? I had tried getting him to fall in love with someone else. I had tried finding her grave to see if there was a chance she might still be alive. She was definitely dead and he was definitely not going to fall in love with anyone else.
So I watched him work on his poison formula and I thought. He tested several variants, but nobody else was sent to haunt him. This was puzzling to me. Why me? What had been so special about me?
I couldn’t figure it out, and I was growing tired. One day I was pondering all the things I had tried and I realized I hadn’t done the “writing on the mirror” bit. So one day when he was in the shower, I traced out something that was sure to make his skin crawl. “Jason, you still owe a debt.” I agonized about including or not including the comma, but once I had it in I couldn’t take it back.
When he got out of the shower I watched, giddy with excitement as he read the message. But, to my horror, he wasn’t horrified. Instead he got extremely excited. he dropped his towel and grabbed his hair with his fists. “Oh my gosh,” he cried, looking around frantically. “It worked! It really worked!” he turned wildly around searching for something. “Who wrote that?” he yelled. “Was it… uh, let’s see… Bob? Is that you Bob? Or Frank? Geez, who could it be?”
He ran out of the bathroom, still dripping wet, and rushed to the book. He almost grabbed it, thought better of it, and went to dry off better. Then he ran back, still naked, and began flipping through the pages frantically. “I can’t believe one of these worked! Which one was it? How long ago was it?” He froze, staring past the pages of the book, and suddenly leapt back to his feet and ran into the bathroom. “AH HA!” he cried, laughing. “I know exactly who it was!”
He dashed back to the table and fell onto the chair. “Only one person I know who would have put a comma in that message.” I rolled my eyes and let out a big sigh. Jason pulled out a notebook and flipped through maniacally. I watched over his shoulder as he came to a page with my name on it and some notes about the formulation he had used on me.
“Aaaah,” he said thoughtfully. “I remember that one.” He pointed at an ingredient. “And there you are,” he said proudly. “You are my ticket.”
He went to work, mixing and pouring, boiling and brewing. He had a crazed look in his eye. Finally, after an hour or so, he held a vial in his hands and stared at it for a long time. Then, he unceremoniously chugged its contents. I watched as he quickly collapsed to the ground, having obviously perfected the killing action of the poison. Then I watched as Death appeared at his feet. Jason’s spirit quickly jumped up and lunged at death, grabbing him around his bony neck, shaking him violently.
“You dick!” he screeched, tackling him to the floor. “I can’t believe you would make a deal like that and go and kill her behind my back before even giving me a chance!” They rolled around on the floor, grappling and swinging at each other. I watched in confusion, unsure of whether I should step in or not. Then, I heard something entirely unexpected.
Death was laughing. Not just laughing, he was roaring with delight. He was trying to talk but he couldn’t say anything. Jason’s spirit threw futile punches at the bony reaper, straddling him and raging. Death lazily held up his arms and chuckled, gasping for breath and trying to talk.
Finally, he managed to breathe out, “What’s the matter, can’t take a joke?” Then he was back to dying of laughter.
I got closer and folded my arms. “Will somebody please explain what is going on here?”
Jason was still enraged. “Sure, this maniac just played the cruelest prank in history on me, completely ruining my entire earth experience.”
“Oh come on,” Death retorted. “What did you expect? You were dealing in black magic, making deals with Death. You had it coming.”
Jason delivered another swift left hook that Death hardly noticed. “Don’t hate the player, hate the game,” Death said. He stood up, knocking Jason to his back on the ground again. “Well, if we’re quite done here, I’ve got better things to do with my eternity.” He turned to leave.
“Wait!” Jason cried. “What happens to us?”
“Oh, I’ll be by to collect your souls at the end of time.” His cloak rippled and whipped and sucked in on itself and we were left standing there, staring at empty space.
Mermaid Pirate Dispatch 
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