Once again the visage of Death appeared before her, disguised as Brad Pitt. But that wasn't quite right. Her head was spinning now, not in a bad way but similar to what one would feel after standing quickly from a seated position. However, none of the usual dizziness accompanied it. And it wasn't just Death, but everything. Everything seemed to have more… life, for lack of a better term. Even shadows seemed vibrant with color.

The frost on the walls of the dark alley seemed to shine like diamonds when she looked at it. A discarded and crushed soda can on the ground looked like sculpted piece of art. Zineth stopped, just looking at everything, lost in how everything shone anew. Death turned and watched her, his currently chiseled features watching her blankly, showing almost no emotion. And then he spoke except it wasn't Brad Pitt speaking but Joe Black, in that tone, that tone that was charming, elegant, and deadpan all at once. "Comprehension, it starts there. The euphoria you feel isn't what you think it is. Your consciousness is receiving all the inputs that the senses you recognize drown out."

She barely heard him, still lost in everything around her, seeing not the dirty alleyway she was standing in, but looking at everything as if she were in the Louvre.  She couldn't believe how she missed it all, how anyone could miss all of this; the curves of a crushed cigarette butt that had to have been molded with care, ripples in a puddle from a garbage dumpster that hadn't quite frozen, made by drops of some oily collected liquid pooled under its leaky corner. Beautiful colors shone out in the dark, refracted in the oil's sheen.

Joe Black continued moving toward to her slowly. "It will be overwhelming for you, at first. The closest analogy you will understand right now will be to imagine if you were blind and deaf, and if you could not smell or taste, and then suddenly all those senses that you never knew were suddenly there, and turned up to their maximum." He spoke of the amazing and miraculous in that humdrum tone of nonchalance, as if all these incredible sensations were mundane. "Your comprehensions are changing. As you understand more, you will find that there are even more items you don't recognize."

"What?" She looked up at her companion and found once again she was looking no longer at Joe, but once more at the Grim Reaper. "That doesn't make any sense. What do you mean?"

Death just stood there, watching her once again from empty sockets.

"What does this mean?" She waved at all the beauty in the dark alley. "I don't understand. This is crazy! I'm walking down an alley with the Grim Reaper. Everything is suddenly beautiful, and Death is Brad Pitt <and wants me to call him Andres>." She wasn't even speaking to Death anymore. Somehow she had switched into hysterical without realizing it, spinning around, looking at everything. It was all the same as it had ever been, but she now appreciated everything. And as she turned again she faced Death, only it wasn't the Grim Reaper or Joe Black, but a young Hispanic man. He wore board shorts and a t-shirt with a old, worn 'Town and Country' logo with a cartoon gorilla. He was strikingly familiar. He had mid length dark hair with a natural curl in it and soft brown eyes.

"Who… who are you?" she asked

"I am the boatman, the shepherd, the gatekeeper. I am as cultures have imagined since thought has been cohesive. I am the hunter, the undertaker, and the finder of lost children." But he didn't change this time. He spoke English but with a thick Puerto Rican accent still in that same uninterested tone.

Oddly, this calmed her. This young man was still the thing that had been with her for what seemed like eternity, for some reason, but she didn't recognize this visage. "But who are…" she waved at his current form, "…you?"

"This is Andres. When you were fourteen years old, your parents took you on a vacation to San Juan. A tour guide took you to different beaches around the island, including one in a small town called Lucia. There was small store nearby, and you and your sister went to get some ice cream. Standing outside was this boy. You thought he was beautiful. You overheard his friend say his name, asking him for a cigarette. You forced your sister to eat her ice cream there in front of the store, so you could watch him a while longer. When he and his friends left, he smiled at you. You never saw him again. But inside your mind he has stayed to this day buried there in your subconscious; every dream of an unknown lover, every imaginary last minute savior. Even to this day you look for similar features without realizing it."

It is odd hearing your deeper truths laid bare in front of you, even more so when all barriers have been lifted from your senses. Zineth felt like part of her had been ripped forth and laid before the gods, as if her entrails had been spilt so they could divine the future. The image of that young man came flooding back; it was easy, because here he was in front of her - same shirt, same shorts, as if the image had been ripped straight from her memory. No, not ripped, more like copied and pasted. But her calmness had dissipated and in its place anger had arisen. She felt burgled. What right did the universe have?

"So what is this? What kid of perverted shit is this? What do you want from me?"

"Only that which is required. There is no perversion here. There is much you will not understand through this metamorphosis. In your current state of comprehension, trust and emotion closely follow another. Trust, at this stage, is imperative. There will be things you don't comprehend yet, dangers unheeded, and feelings that may cause more harm than good. The physicalities of the universe as you comprehend them are not what you believe. You have strong emotional connection to this form, and as it stands, you will trust this form."

She believed him. She didn't want to, but somehow she knew he couldn't lie. This visage wasn't exactly as she remembered. While the clothes were from that day, his form was more adult and grown. Probably a mixture of her mind's image and the actual boy that had grown into this man. And she wanted to trust him. She was still angry, but she couldn't argue the logic, because Death had been correct. This was crazy, it was all too much. Tears welled up in her eyes, waiting for the dam to break and put her waterproof mascara to the test. "It's not fair." She looked at him defiantly. "Why me, huh? How did I get selected for this?"

Andres took a step forward and reached for her hand. She flinched away, and was immediately angry at herself for doing so. The response was just like everything else, driven by what she'd seen in stories and on TV, that the Grim Reaper's touch meant death. But she knew that wasn't the case, at least not for her, not any longer. She looked down at her hand, almost willing it out, rationalizing her fear in light of everything. She stretched out her hand to him, and Andres took it in both of his.

"Zineth, you will come to understand that the universe is not a fair place. You will come to take great comfort in this truth. What kind of a place would the universe be if every bad thing that happened to you, to anyone, was because they deserved it? What kind of place would that be? In terms you can understand, the universe has an overabundance of negative Karma. This is neither your fault, nor your problem. This is just truth."

He turned her around, moving in behind her, and pointed back down the alley they had come. He felt cold behind her, but the physical presence of Andres comforted her somehow. "You've only come thirty steps and think of how your world has changed."

Zineth looked out. The grungy, dirty alleyway looked beautiful, so much so that the tears that were just starting to recede poured out. The body of the dead bum still lay there, frozen, next to a dumpster. A bus passed the opening of the alley and it seemed to move in slow motion. She could clearly see the face of each person on the bus, and she saw the brightness on all of their faces; the old woman returning home, a group of teenagers laughing, a mother and her young daughter, an off-shift security guard. Each one brilliant and like a masterpiece. The little girl was already waving out the window when the bus passed by, but Zineth could swear she was waving at them. "Did she see us?"

"Possibly…" Andres answered her. "The minds of the young are still unfettered by the mental blockades you put on yourselves as adults. Children often take things in without having to understand them, therefore they perceive more. Babies are the greatest example of this. They can take in everything around them, often seeing and hearing the noises of the cosmos around them. Parents, to this day, don't understand why babies cry for no reason, and probably never will. Adults simply can't perceive beyond their senses."

Thirty steps. How could so much have happened in so short a distance? So much. And she still had no idea how deep this rabbit hole really went. That was about all she was sure of. But there was more, so much more. Literally everything was ahead, all the secrets of the cosmos; everything from the secrets of life and death to why blondes insist on putting on blue eye shadow. She was scared and exhilarated at the possibilities.

She turned and faced death only to find that it was no longer Andres standing beside her but Mandy Patinkin. He had been on some show her brother made her watch on Showtime or HBO a few years ago, Death with a post-it note. But this version of Death had been caring, and a teacher to little Reapers.

Is that what I am? She thought. "So… how do we begin?"

"Well, pumpkin, it's not a we, it's a you." It was as if she was talking to the character he played on that show, "You need to learn about death and what it means to people. Every culture, every civilization, every single living thing has their own individual idea about death, the afterlife, all that jazz; Heaven, Hell, Vahalla, Stovo'kor, the Underworld, the Happy Hunting Grounds, the Clearing at the end of the Path. Whatever the idea might be, there is a destination forged from the thoughts and ideas of those who have gone before. You see, it's all up here." Mandy point to his head. "Once you begin to understand all these different versions, you can start to see where the dead will go. But here's the rub, kiddo, none of them are right." He waved his arm down as if to show her something.

As she looked she saw the grass under her heels. She looked back up quickly only to see they were now on a grassy hill scattered with little white wildflowers. At the base of the hill was a river, swiftly flowing from the sound of it. Mandy Patinkin was already heading down toward the water, and she followed. A large tree stood strong by the bank of the river, and she could swear she'd seen it before. The sky above them was perfectly clear - almost like when a big storm has passed through and has taken all the dust and smog out of the sky, letting stars shine through that you almost never see - but this sky was even clearer than that. Zineth thought se could actually see the Milky Way stretched long way through the heavens above. And she was no longer cold; on the contrary, she could feel a warm summer breeze on the crystal clear night.

"Where are we?"

"Think of it as the river of life." Mandy knelt down by the river's edge, careful not to touch the water itself. "Beyond all the afterlives people come up with, this is the truth. The closest word you would use would be reincarnation, but the concept as you know it isn't completely right. You're all energy, pumpkin; you, people, all living things; but so much else as well. This is where that energy comes from, this is where is needs to return. The cohesive thought that is the soul springs from here, and here it must return. Nature returns naturally; plants and animals, cells and organisms, germs and viruses, the exception being those animals domesticated by mankind. Many linger, waiting for their owners. Otherwise, this is where everything must return."

"So this… this is God?" she asked. She looked into the swiftly moving water. At first it looked just like water should, crystal clear to the base of the river bed. But as she watched it seemed to change slightly. At first it sparkled here and there, and then a ray of light would seem to speed downstream, then another… and another…

"No. God is just a concept based on belief. As is the devil, and so are all the ideas of gods; Ra, Odin, Zeus. And belief is a powerful thing. Your gods were born on your beliefs, and they use that belief as power. Some for good, some not so good, but that doesn't matter. Not really. And while the Age of Aquarius has brought about the belief in the one true god, humanity as a whole doesn't seem able to believe in the same one god. But I digress. Most souls have an idea where they are going before their mortality is complete. Based on belief, conscience, and moral value, most already know which after life they are headed to. But not all. All need to return to the wellspring. It is now to you to help those lost back here. Not just those on the plane of Earth, but also the fallen in the war of heavens."

"Wars? What wars?" She looked up from the river at Andres. He was no longer Mandy Patinkin but some mercenary, a large black man with the upper part of a skull painted white across his face. He wore some sort of camouflage uniform pants and a flak vest without a shirt. The hard part for her to fathom was the colors, he looked animated, something out of a comic book.

"The war of heavens. Those who have chosen to go into an afterlife are eventually inducted into the army of their gods. All the heavens are in a cold war. And when one member falls, their belief structure takes a blow. It is your charge to bring them to the wellspring as well." His voice was no longer kind, but dark and gruff, very matter-of-fact.

"You want me to get involved in a war? I'm not a soldier."

"The wars aren't your charge, but you will come into direct conflict with those involved in them. And you will fight." Andres told her.

"Fight? Are you kidding me? Who do you think I am, Jackie Chan?" She sat down next to the tree, leaning back against it. "This is too much."

"The wellspring doesn't choose its charges lightly. And make no mistake, missy, you were chosen. It's a done deal." Andres seemed so caustic in this form, almost angry. It seemed to her that not only the image changed but the characteristics of the visage with each image. Where's Andres? Zineth thought, and immediately Death's visage was the young man again. And like before it wasn't a sudden change, but more like he had always looked and felt this way. And there most definitely was a feel to it. Each different person Death had become had had a certain feel about them, each completely individual from the others.

"What the… did I do that?" she asked surprised at death's instant change at her thought.

"Si, you did." Andres told her. He sat down in the tall grass, which looked purple in the moonlight for some reason, careful to avoid the root of the tree.

"Why don't you touch the tree?"

"On the mortal plane you would know this tree as the tree of life. It is but one direct connection to the river. There are others connections in nature, but this one stands out to humanity, a tree flourishing in the middle of a desert. Such connections would sever instantly if I were to touch them." Andres explained.

"But… you can touch me, and I don't die. But I can touch the tree, and it seems fine."

"You are one of the sand people, but your sands no longer fall. You are now between worlds, precariously balanced between states that you don't quite understand. Your glass is destroyed; the grains, splinters, and shards spread across a universe of comprehension."

"You mean my hourglass? But you smashed it."

"The wood was taken from trees like this, the glass blown from the sands of those who have gone before, and your sands fresh from the rivers bank." Andres looked up into the perpetual night sky as he spoke lovingly like a craftsman who had taken pride in his work.

Zineth stood and walked over to him and watched him watch the sky, his face was handsome. She knelt down besides and he smiled at her. That smile, so warm and inviting; if she hadn't known who was behind that smile she could have fallen in love with it at that moment. But still the smile calmed her. So much… input in such a short time, she felt overloaded. But Andres' smile… he must be quite popular in real life. "So, what does that mean? Are you saying I can't die?"

Andres eyes became suddenly dark, not in color but in aspect. "Not exactly." He rose slowly, grabbing her by the wrist as he stood.

"What? What are you… Let me go!" she struggled as he pulled her up with outrageous strength. She tried to break free. Tried prying his fingers off her wrist, to no avail, and she continued until his fingers became bone once more.

Her hand recoiled from the touch of bone. Looking up, she was no longer seeing Andres, but Death. The Grim Reaper stood huge before her, and that feeling of terror from her initial sight of him in the alley returned. No longer was this the friendly teacher or handsome friend. This was the Omega, this was the fear that people saw as they looked to their last moment. She never even felt her bladder let loose, pouring down her dress.

The Grim Reaper pulled her arm back hard and then tossed her into the river. It was so sudden and strong that Zineth never even had time to scream. Death watched her fly into the water with a splash, and waited.