City of IF

[ashkent]

“Well it’s a grave for you,” the spectre of Boris said.

“Yu who?” I asked. “Why would a Chinaman need a grave in Britain?”

“Not Yu. You!”

I found a cloudy finger, with the hint of debris beneath the nail, pointing in my direction.

I have been on the receiving end of any number of threats over the course of my work, but a deceased, arthritis-ridden gravedigger could not be described as that. This was nothing more than what humans refer to as conversational banter.

“Why would I require a grave? My immortality somewhat removes the inconvenience of dying.”

Boris gave a quick shake of his head. “Well, you see, that’s what I told ‘em. ‘Why would Death need a grave?’ I said to ‘em. It’d be like saying they wanted to kill God. They said they ‘ave special ways though, and who am I to argue?”

“Who are ‘they’?”

“Now you’re asking something,” Boris said, scratching his forehead.

“I know I’m asking something,” I said, becoming a little perplexed. “That is usually the purpose of a question.”

“Well, to tell the truth, I don’t know.”

During moments such as this I often resolve never again to embroil myself in idle chatter with my collections. That resolve, however, proves no competition for the sense of curiosity I have adopted over the years.

And how many, whether immortal or otherwise, would not find questions on their tongue when someone has informed of your impending demise? Then remember who I am, and see how that need to know would grow tenfold.

“Excuse me for sounding rather confused,” I said, “but are you saying you were told to dig a grave by someone you don’t know?”

“Of course not. I know who asked me, I just don’t know who ‘they’ are.”

“This is not being very helpful.”

“Sorry, mate. I can only tell you what I know.”

“Which is what?” I asked without much hope.

“Nothing.”

“I was afraid of that.”

There are minute details that lead to every decision and action we all make. The small fact that I was not getting any information from Boris’s shade indicated that I needed to approach my questioning from another angle.

“Who told you to dig the grave?” I asked.

“Well, that’s easy. It was me Gaffer!”

“Your gaffer?”

“Me boss!” Boris said, becoming rather animated. “The Head Honcho. He who must be obeyed. The man at the top!”

“I think I understand,” I said. “And what is the name of this Boss Honcho Man of yours?”

“Bones.”

I raised a metaphorical eyebrow. “You’re not taking the piss are you? I still haven’t issued your visa yet.”

“No, no. ‘Is name is Bones. Frankie Bones. ‘E’s the one who pays – paid – me me wages. Salt of the earth kinda bloke, ‘e is.”

“That’s nice,” I said. “I think maybe I should have a word with Mr Bones. Where can I find him?”

Boris looked down at the pale ectoplasm of his wrist. “Do you ‘ave the time? Me watch isn’t working.”

“I believe it is quarter to four in the afternoon, Greenwich Mean Time.”

“Oh,” Boris said, looking even paler than before. “In that case, you’ll probably find ‘im on your list. When ‘e sent me to dig this grave ‘e told me to look after things for ‘im cos when they came back at four e’d be done for.”

I have never really felt in control of events that surround me. Living entities die and I collect them. It is work, nothing more. Yet despite this I found myself sinking further and further into some peculiar vortex where every impossibly inconvenient outcome was likely to occur.

I once again consulted my list. I found the name of Bones on page six. The ghost of Boris had been correct; his boss would not live to see four o’clock. I needed to halt the world’s death count for a short while, or at least my collection of their souls. As with any reputable business, there are always emergency procedures for such instances, we just don’t publicise the fact that we occasionally allow the world to cope unaided by the higher beings. It would just make humans think they could run the show on their own.

I returned to first page of my list, and drew a star beside the name of my next collection. It is as easy as that to delay my business although it does have some consequences. I have often wondered about training an apprentice to aid me in my work, but ironically I have never found the time to look for one. Instead, I simply take the time I need and cleanup the leftovers when I return to duty. No one notices when it is only once every decade or so.

“Do I get this visa thing now, mate?” Boris’s soul asked.

“Yes, I think everything seems to be in order.”

I handed over the small document that is to a soul what an All-Day Pass is to a child in that Disneyworld place. The instant Boris gripped the thin membrane of the visa, his shade was gone.

Alone in the graveyard, I flicked back to where Mr Bones’s name appeared on my list. At least I knew where to find him now. I always preferred to rely on the certainty of the list when locating the living. As I believe many of you day, the only certainties are death and taxes. I can vouch for the first of those. The name on the list will always be found at the place and time that Destiny or Fate have prepared for them.

It had to be said, neither Destiny or Fate had been particularly kind when choosing just how Mr Bones would be granted audience with me. I hate the messy ones.

So what ending is about to befall the soughtafter Mr Bones?

[Kirranna]

He has the classic bad luck of walking under a falling piano?

[Lilith]

He is going to be letting the cat out into the backyard when a stealthy burglar hired by "them" kills him (yes in broad daylight) for the secret to stopping Death, forever.. which happens to be on a piece of paper in the locked drawer of Mr. Bone's home office.

[Mephistopheles]

he is out riding his motorcycle. He loses control when attempting to avoid hitting a rather large. spectral looking dog, which sends him sliding beneath the wheels of a big truck, crushing his head instantly. This is so fun to read! keep it up ashkent!

[D-Lotus]

Quote: As I believe many of you day, the only certainties are death and taxes.

?

DP: His head has been chopped off. Because of this, the ghost is more confused than usual and has difficulty answering Death's questions.

[Chinaren]

Another nice chapter Ask.

I think Bones is due to die by... Death! That's right. Somehow he manages to get Death to kill him, which is against the rules, and hence allows Fate to level charges at Death, which in turn would allow Fate to replace Death with his own candidate. Politics eh? ;)

[The Meaning Of Fear]

Wooooooo nice chapter Kent!

I say he is chopping down a tree with his chainsaw when, trip, ooopsies, bzzzzzz chop chop splat splat, he falls and falls face first into the rotating blade. Needless to sa he doesn't look quite the same afterwards and doesn't have as many braincells left either.

[Crunchyfrog]

Hehe, a great read! :D

I'm curious as to the 'they' this Boris chap is referring to. He'd obviously been having a conversation with 'them' about the grave...

Quote: “Excuse me for sounding rather confused,” I said, “but are you saying you were told to dig a grave by someone you don’t know?”

“Of course not. I know who asked me, I just don’t know who ‘they’ are.”

Then he says -

Quote: When ‘e sent me to dig this grave ‘e told me to look after things for ‘im cos when they came back at four e’d be done for.”

So I think he's going to be murdered very messily by 'them', right by the grave Boris has been digging. It will look like an accident - a truck will back into the iron railings that surround the cemetary and slice him into bits like an egg slicer.

:)

(by the way, your storygame has been nominated for SG of the month. Check Here to find out what to do about it. :)

[ashkent]

(by the way, your storygame has been nominated for SG of the month. Check Here to find out what to do about it. :)[/quote]

Thanks for pointing that out, i didn't know. I'm chuffed. :)

[ashkent]

The new poll is now open!!

[Crunchyfrog]

:lol: looking at it all summarised in a bunch of poll options you've got to wonder at our collective mental state at times! :D

[Chinaren]

I don't know what you're talking about Crunchy. It all looks perfectly normal to me. ;)

[The Meaning Of Fear]

Sorrry! It looks like I made it a 3 way tie for you.

[ashkent]

Chinaren wrote: I don't know what you're talking about Crunchy. It all looks perfectly normal to me. ;)

I wholly agree with this. I don't see anything to worry about here...and on the plus side if i ever do feel inclined to off someone I know where to come for assitance with ideas. :)

[The Meaning Of Fear]

Chainsaw, Chainsaw!~

:-x

[ashkent]

Hang on, i'll just rev it up a bit.

*ring-ga-ging-ga-ging-aga-ging-ging-ga-ging*

OK, who's got the Crazy frickin Frog ringtone still???!!

[ashkent]

Well the poll ended with a tie...so In an executive decision I have chosed to go with the butchered by a chainsaw option. The new chapter is on it's way soon.

[Chinaren]

This should be fun.

[The Meaning Of Fear]

Woooo hoo! Chainsaw, Chainsaw, bring on the CHAINSAW! :-x

Oh and Ash, can you place the pictures in your Sig next to each other? It's making me scroll down more than my lazy self is used to doing.

And stop double-posting. ;)

[Bookwizard]

Just thought id put something here as I work my way to the next chapter, and to put the chapters back in order as well...