The rolling fog settled over the fields like a heavy shroud. Henry was already at work, hacking away at the earth and its golden bounty. The scythe felt right in his hands. He was but a lowly peasant, but never once desired to climb even a link more on the great chain of being. Although young and physically fit, his deformed face forced him to lead a life of isolation. His mother believed he was sin incarnate and shunned him from birth. Henry knew where he belonged, that is until he met her.

Just as Henry began wiping his brow, he heard a carriage in the distance. A startled horse and then a loud crash. And then silence. Henry dropped the scythe and made his way towards the sound. The carriage lay on its side next to the body of a glossy eyed horse. Henry ran towards the carriage and threw open its door. A woman laid unconscious across the fine, silk seating. The driver was no where in sight. Henry draped the woman over his shoulder and trudged back home.

For days the woman never stirred. Henry had never had a guest before, yet alone that of a beautiful noble woman. He named her Beatrice. He began to imagine a life with her: a wife tending the fire and welcoming him home from the fields. It was not real, he knew that, but an illusory love sprouted all the same. He partly prayed that she'd never wake up. For he knew that a moment's gaze upon him would beget a blood curdling scream. The alternative was nearing death.

One night, while stoking his fire, a loud knock shook the front door. A cloaked figure stood in the entryway. "There is another way," the figure said. "I've been watching you, Henry. You could save her and she'd never know."

"H-how," stammer Henry.

"You take my place ... as Death. You would choose who lives or dies. You'd be my successor."

Henry looked back at the weak, dying woman.

"I accept."

Death reached out a long, boney finger towards Henry. Suddenly, the cloaked figure was gone. Henry grabbed his scythe that was leaning against the door. He felt a surge and now a different sense of purpose. The woman awoke, but before she could gather her senses, Henry slipped or the door.

She would live ... for now. But Death would always lurk nearby.