I am Death, always have been, always will be.  Some think of me as an angel.  Others perceive me as a demon.  I have been worshipped and feared long before man refined their ideas of religion and god.  I once thought myself the judge of all that lives, but I was never meant to be anything more than a ferryman.

I was once merciful.  I passed over those I saw as good.  I brought early ends to those that brought others misery.  I gave swift ends to those that had nothing but suffering left for them.  I spared so many their tears, but still I was wrong.

I once played games, and accepted challenges from those that defied me.  Oh, how I loved them for their bravery, their arrogance, and their hope.  I always won, but I often made mistakes to prolong the game and feed their hope.  Now the games are gone, and I can play no more.

I once struck deals with those that worshipped me.  I used their fear of me to steer the world as I saw fit.  My rule was absolute, but I always thought of myself as reasonable and kind.  I was wrong.  I am punished, and rule no more.

It was god that punished me. “Just because you are not human dose not exclude you from my rule” came a booming voice I never heard before.  “I am Death, and who are you that would rule me” I shouted raising my scythe.  “I am the lord thy god, and your pride has gone far enough ferryman” the voice rose in a crescendo so loud it shattered my ebony scythe.  There was a blinding light, and for the first time since creation I fell unconscious.

I finally regained consciousness, but my sight did not return.  I raised my hands to my face.  My eye sockets were gone, replaced by smooth bone.  I threw my arms back and screamed, but the sound did not come.  My boney fingers in my mouth, and I find no tongue or cords.  “Your punishment is now complete. No longer can you see.  No more will you speak.”  The booming voice now calm and serene “you will find that your new scythe will guide you where you are needed ferryman.”

I am Death. I am punished.  I am crippled.  No longer the judge, for I can see no guilt.  There is no more mercy, as I can not see the pain.  There are no more deals or games, as I can no longer speak the terms.  Shackled to my scythe the only thing I see now are fleeting glimpses of each soul as I pull them across the threshold.  I am the Ferryman, as I should have been and shall be forever more.