Daughter of Death

Chapter 1



"What should we do?"

"When people reach five years old, they send their children to school. It would be good of her to interact with human children."

"What if all the other kids make fun of her?"

"That's what kids do."

"It's been so long since I've been a child. Children just seem cruel nowadays."

"She'll learn their ways."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"She has to grow up."

"She must go."

That's how the family agreed to send Sophie to school. This was no ordinary family. This was definitely no ordinary girl. No one expected Angel of Death and and the Devil of Life to marry. No one knew what would happen if they had a child but here she was. Some said she looked like death with her face of white pallor and hair as dark as night. She did seem kind of gangly like her father. She was somewhat tall and skinny for her age. Then people would notice the sternness in her face while she contemplated a problem and reminded them of her father. Others said she looked like her mother with the brightness of her eyes and the joy her laughter. People would pause, turn around and just have to pass a compliment to the beaming parents when they saw Sophie. When she smiled, when she really smiled, she really lit up the room.

In short, she was like every other child with features of both Mom and Dad.

Dad brought Sophie to her first day of class because Mom had to go to work. He put on his modern sensible form so people would not notice him. If the teacher noticed that Death was at her door that might worry her. Truly, it was Death that was worried for his daughter. He knew of the lies, wars and even worse things that people do. Sophie turned to him, "It will be OK, Dad. The worst they can do to me is killing me and then I'll just see you again!" she laughed merrily. He laughed. He had to laugh because her laughter was so infectious. Like so many parents, he wanted to hug her right there and never let her go.

Before you know it, Sophie was waving goodbye to him when she disappeared into the classroom. A parent next to him commented, “They grow up so fast. Life isn't fair."

Death shook his head. "You have no idea."



"Good morning, my name is Sophie and this is my first day of school." Sophie politely introduced herself being careful to sound bright and cheery. First impressions are so important. After much thought, Sophie decided to wear a flowery yellow dress along with boots with an adorable sun hat.

"My! What good manners you have. Good morning, Sophie. My name is Mary." Mary had been a teacher aide for many years but this is the first time she felt a little awe in front of student. She looked again at Sophie who was wearing a smile the size of Montana and couldn't help smiling in return. The teacher aide mark down Sophie's name in the attendance book. "Let's find you a seat," she said warmly and led Sophie to the rectangle table. Each table in the classroom was a different shape.

"Oh, I don't like squares. Could I sit at a circle table?" Circles reminded her of the seasons. She also liked the circle because it gave everyone a sense of equality.

The aide looked at her seating chart and noticed that there was an open spot at the circle table. Strange, it wasn't there before. It was a crazy day and perhaps it just slipped her mind. There was a child crying up front that needed her attention and she decided to worry about that later. The aide put on her friendly face, and pointed to Sophie, "Oh, there's a seat for you at the circle table next to that pretty girl in the blue dress. Do you see her?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you," and Sophie marched herself over to the seat. The girl wasn't really that much prettier than anyone else. Everyone is beautiful her mother told her time and time again. It's just a matter of finding it. "Hello, I'm Sophie" she introduced herself to each person at the table. Jessica was the name of the "pretty" girl in the blue dress. She had long blonde hair and a lopsided kind of smile. She was a little nervous and Sophie gave her a comforting smile. Also at the table sat Reginald William Hightower the Fourth who needed no encouragement. He looked like a boy who was used to be listened to and dressed in a suit and tie for someone reserved for someone thirty years older than him. Also at the table, sat Michelle who was actually using her cell phone to text someone and only mumbled a curt hello to Sophie.

Sophie unpacked her back pack. She pulled out her notebook and the pen her father gave her. If she ever wanted to leave, she just had to use the pen to write a particular secret phrase and her father would be right there. Without that pen, her dad would have never agreed to allow her to attend kindergarten. The pen also had a reverse ink. Tracing ink on a page using the reverse ink feature would erase the ink off the page like an eraser on a pencil. The notebook never needed replacing either. It always had a blank page available. Also, with the right thought when you open it, the notebook would always open to the right page and right entry. It would do a search by word, page, date, or even by doodle. The backpack was also extraordinary because it linked back to the house. If she forgot her homework in her bedroom, she could just reach into the backpack and pull it out. Her dad designed it be light as a feather. Her mom made it more fashionable than a Louis Vitton bag.

The teacher introduced herself as Melissa. She had long brown hair and was really pretty. She was tall like her Aunt Fate but didn't make that swooshy sound when she walked. Sophie took a keen interest an instant liking toward her teacher. This class did appear to be one her first classes she taught so she was somewhat nervous. Still, one could easily tell she wanted to be there and doing what she loved, and so was Sophie.

Melissa gave everyone a few sheets of paper and put some big fat crayons in the middle of table. "Everyone I would like you to draw a picture of your family. Then you'll introduce your family to us." For Sophie, it would be difficult to draw her parents because they changed their form so often. There was no crayon color that could get her mom's natural hair color or her eyes. No problem Sophie thought. I'll just draw her with a hat and sunglasses. She decided to draw mother in her yellow sun dress and hat which she loved to wear. Sophie thought her mom looked beautiful in that dress. The crayons were designed so that children could not break them, so Sophie began using her charcoal techniques instead. Oh, she wished she could just get her water color set from her drawing room. She could just reach her hand into her back pack and grab it. But Mom and Dad cautioned about showing off in front of the mortals.

She became engrossed in her work really wanting to impress her new teacher. Plus, this was a challenge. How does anyone use these big fat crayons to create anything? She glanced at her neighbors and saw crude stick figures. She became lost in her work until her teacher touched her arm lightly. "Sophie, it's time for you to choose your cubby hole,' and offered her hand to Sophie.

"What is a cubby hole?"

"A cubby hole is where you can put your things in the classroom."

"Oh, it's like an armoire." Melissa looked surprised. Her teacher was not used to her students saying words she did not know. From the application interview, she did know that Sophie was a well-traveled child. She carried herself with unusual poise for a five year old. An unusual child she reasoned and quite the charmer. Before her teacher could answer, Sophie said, "You have pretty hair." Dad always said people should be more giving with sincere compliments. It makes life a much more tolerable place.

"Well, thank you. Aren't you a sweetie?" and her teacher stood a little straighter and brushed back her hair with a nervous laughed smile.

Sophie found a cubicle with her name on it. "Is this one mine?"

"Yes, it is." Melissa was delighted. So many of the children attending class could barely make out a couple letters in the alphabet. Teaching wasn't quite what she expected but every once in a while a student made it worthwhile. Sophie had that potential.