Josephine Broderick
WoB Short Story Contest
11/7/2025
Death’s Replacement
Death is a fickle thing, isn't it? You can run and run as much as you want, yet it's always one step ahead of you. Or right next to you. It's an odd thing being able to see death. I once thought it to be a curse, but as I see life and death go on.. I see it as more of a gift. My name is Tasoula Efthimia, and I am the rebirth of 30 lives before me. In this life, I am a soldier. Not an ideal job, but I have no say in what life I am born into. God keeps putting me back on this earth and I have no idea why. Perhaps I have a lesson to learn? I think I am very terrible at learning whatever this lesson is though.
Dying is quite an odd sensation The first time I died, I was scared No Scared doesn't cover the depth of fear I felt I was downright horrified My heart hurt and my bones ached Time seemed to move slowly, and I only moved faster I fell faster I was overwhelmed with a cold sensation that never warmed; I could feel all of my senses slipping away so slowly but still too fast for my comfort I remember reaching out, trying to grasp and hold onto what I thought made me, me I tried to cry as I was engulfed in an inner darkness but nothing happened There was no reprieve from the inner pain and hurt I was dark I was locked mentally in darkness while everything around me was light and joyous. I remember wondering why anyone would see joy or peace in dying. Now I find comfort in it. Now I see. It is the end of the suffering we all carry.
I couldn't see death in a physical form at first, but I could always sense her presence, offering comfort with a hand on my left shoulder as I died Whether she is a lost soul or not, her touch always seemed meant to calm Though I don’t remember the details of my past lives, I recall the kind of person I was and how I carried myself
The past two times of my passing, I’ve seen her walking about me and others. I've even interacted with death. I haven't had any conversation with her, but we have had an understanding or a conversation through emotions and energy. I do not know if death is a woman. But the gentleness of how she handles it seems more feminine than masculine. She is just a lost soul craving a release but never experiencing it. This job was just thrown onto her as a wandering soul who never had someone there for her. So she compensates for her lack of comfort by comforting the souls she takes. That's how it seems from an outside perspective anyway.
I can see her walk around all these soldiers on the battlefield She is frantic and messy She is trying to guide all of these dying souls but it's overwhelming She is growing tired and sloppy with her work She has grown careless Maybe her reign as death is almost over? Maybe she will experience relief soon? I keep wondering who would replace death
I haven't yet figured out if her exact job is to take their lives or just guide the souls from their dead earthly existence. I'm leaning more towards my idea that she just guides the souls. You would think that I would know by now, considering how many times I have died. I feel like I’ve been roped into helping her guide the souls to where they should go after dying. For most of these soldiers, if not all of them, this is their first time dying so I don't blame them all for being so terrified. I was in the same position as them a lifetime ago. Well..several lifetimes ago, actually. I stopped feeling emotions and physical pain sometime after my 23rd life. I don't feel, and I don't grow any emotional attachment to anyone or anything, despite people’s attempts I see no point
in it if I won't see them in the next life It won't benefit me any That's why I feel no sadness as I watch the people around me die I know they are going to a better place of peace They will no longer have to feel pain It's almost a blessing Almost
The bullets are whizzing past me These people have horrible aims How have I not been hit yet? Tomas, a young boy who thinks we are friends, is now in the fetal position on the blood-stained ground next to me. If this were many lives ago, I may have offered some form of sweet support. But I am not that person anymore, so I nudge him harshly with my boot. My armour is bulky and uncomfortable but with the adrenaline, you really don't notice. It makes my foot heavy, so the nudge feels like a kick. When he doesn't react to the nudge, I kick him. He finally moves his hands enough to look me in the eyes. His face is so tear-stained and red. Some of the red is blood, but I can't tell if it is his blood or not. Between the piercing screams and the artillery, my voice is drowned out. So all I can do is offer my hand to Tomas. I may not think of him as a friend, but I'm not completely unfeeling. Just mostly. He shakes his head as he hesitantly grabs my hand while I help him stand. Tears are still running down his face and his face is set with terror. A feeling I am all too familiar with. I point to the med tent. I don't bother trying to strain my voice, so I use my limited knowledge of sign language to tell him to go offer help to the doctors. We all had to learn sign language as part of training, so I know this will get my point across. He starts to run back. I watch to make sure he gets back to the med tent in one piece, and as he runs, he passes Death Her gaze follows him, then back to me I'm confused She looks like she wants to tell me something, but doesn't have the words to say it What is it that death craves?
When I saw death at first, she seemed so bewildered, and then she grew sorrowful I haven't figured out why But she seems to avoid me now She offers a glance in my direction every once in a while, but not often It's as if she doesn't want to be a burden to me But in all honesty, I need comfort, and she seems to be the one who understands me best. Or at least maybe I understand her. But this glance that she sends my way is far from comforting. It's like she is trying to prepare me for something. I just wish I knew what it was.
After a moment of thought, I turn back and realize all the death that is around me All of the soldiers, my comrades, are dead Few are holding on They are just as good as dead I feel something I haven't felt in many lifetimes Sorrow All of these souls are trapped in the in-between due to unfinished business or have passed into the next plane without a comforting hand It hurts to watch Not a single person still stands on my side I glance at the med tent, where there are only a few survivors Tomas stands at the gate His face is still tear-stained, and I don't blame him
Death looks over to me and starts walking. I stand still. Waiting. What is it that death has to say? She phases through all of the fallen bodies. It's almost sickening. When she reaches me, she puts a hand on my left shoulder. We stood quietly for a few minutes. I still hear the bullets whizzing past me, but I drown them out. I think nothing of this for a moment. And then I hear her voice for the first time. It's such a paradox. It sounds so sickly yet calming. She leans to my ear and whispers such chilling words. I haven't felt a fear like this in all of my lifetimes. And I never want to. All that she says is, “Take my place. You are death.” And with that, she fades. A whispering feeling of her hand on my shoulder remains. I turn back to see where the opposing army is shooting. They are hellbent on killing me. All I feel next is a sharp and bleeding pain. My mind is a blurry mess I fall into the familiar feeling of death I turn to look back at Tomas in the med tent one last time All he does is salute and walk back inside He is no longer weeping At that, I feel my remaining bit of life feel joy as it fades
I walk the same line I have many times before, but I see death standing to the side Not in the form she has shown me, but as she is I walk towards her and she shakes her head I
can't hear anything It's almost as if my ears need to pop and just haven't yet She gestures to everything in front of her and what is behind me I turn to view the screaming and lost souls It is all I can hear Everything else is muffled They stand above their earthly bodies and cry out as if there is nothing beyond that Screams of terror have no language
It is now that I realize why God keeps putting me back here. I am Death’s replacement. I am to deliver them to a better and necessary place. Death’s words come back to me. I was made to guide lost souls. This is the lesson God wants me to learn.