And why not a story about Death? Such an interesting topic...

Death, as we all know, is an inevitable thing. It claims even the most powerful people: Celebrities, Kings, Popes... Everybody dies in the end, returning to the nothingness from which they came. It is a fact that everyone must accept at some point in their lives. You are not immortal; you will die like everyone else.
I had realised that fact quite early on in life, having been born weaker then most humans, with a condition that was considered untreatable. I had written my will by the age of seventeen, when my illness became suddenly worse. The doctors informed me that I would be dead within a year. Of course, I was upset by this news; just about anyone would be. I had already accepted the fact that I would die, but I had expected more time.
The year passed quickly as I grew sicker and sicker. Sometimes I would fall asleep, only to wake up and discover that a week had passed. My parents tried their best to care for me, often missing out on meals so that they could afford to buy the expensive food that I had become so used to. Even though we were almost broke, my parents tried to make me feel as though we were still rich, as we had been before the depression. If anything, it made me feel worse to see my family suffering while I remained in comfort. When the day came when my life was scheduled to end, I saw him for the first time. After having near death experiences, some people claim to have see angels, ready to escort them to the next life. Others claim that a sythe wielding skeleton appears before them, waiting for their life to end. I can tell you now, that both of those claims are lies. The man standing over me appeared about the age of forty, a patch of hair on his head already absent. In his hands, he did not wield a scythe, though he did carry a notebook which he was currently reading intently. If it weren't for the wings, he could easily have passed for the average insurance salesman. Though he had wings, he looked nothing like the angel that so many people had claimed to see. The wings weren't angelic at all, more bat-like, giving the man a sinister aura, despite his insurance salesman qualities. As soon as he appeared in the room, my pain faded away, leaving me feeling healthy, an experience that I had never before felt in my life.
"So am I dead then?" I asked, sitting up for the first time in eight months. "Are you here to take me to the afterlife?"
The man looked up from his notebook briefly, an amused look on his face. I heard the sound of footsteps as my mother approached the room, opening the door slowly. In her hands she carried a tray, the food upon it falling to the ground as she saw my unmoving corpse. A horrified look appeared on her face as she rushed up to the body below me, putting a finger to its neck. She began to sob.
"Not exactly..." The man said, returning the notebook to his pocket. "You don't appear to be on any of my lists..."
A strange look appeared on my face as I stood, passing straight through my mother.
"What do you mean?" I asked, approaching the man slowly. My eyes moved to look at the man's wings. "You're the Grim Reaper aren't you? Does that mean I'm not dead?"
"Well..." An embarassed look appeared on his face as he glancer at my sobbing mother. "This hasn't really happened to me before..."
The man pulled out a silver coloured brick, holding it up to his ear.
"I'll have to check with management..."
What the hell is going on? I wondered, attempting to grab the food that had been spilled on the ground. My hand passed straight through it.
"Yeah, I've got a guy who's name isn't on any of my lists..." The reaper said quietly, speaking into the brick. "Yes, I'm sure he's dead... What?! You guys don't know what to do?! Yeah... Okay..." He pressed a button on the brick, returning it to his pocket. "Well, looks like you're stuck down here..."
I stood up quickly, a shocked look appearing on my face.
"What do you mean I'm

I suppose that I should put something on my page worth reading... Well here goes;

“I always wonder if the people up there actually know what’s happening to the world while they sit in their office buildings, working mindlessly for days on end…” The two figures watched from the streets, looking up at the buildings in which the straights work. “…Probably not, too wrapped up in their own lives to pay attention to the rest of us.” The speaker was a fit man, his hair pink and his arms tattooed, the local go-to guy for hard-to-find information.

“Enough with the small talk now, what do you know about the bar I was in burning down?” Salamander, tapped his foot impatiently, eager to leave this over-populated place. “I already know who they were; they had the mark of those ‘New Yak’ people. What I want to know is why.”

“Do those guys really need their reasons?” The information dealer asked. “I mean, look at them funny and they’ll come at you with crowbars.” Salamander smirked, concealing his clenched teeth. “Both you and I know that they’re more organised then that,” he said. “They’re not just common thugs like you.”

“You know, one of the dumbest things one can do, is piss off an information dealer.”
“Only if you leave them alive…” Salamander said, the smirk fading from his face. “You really think that I care if we’re in a public area? I’ll kill you so much as look at you” A flash of fear showed on the information dealer’s face. “Oh, and just so you know, I burnt down that bar, they merely gave me an excuse.” Flames began to gather in Salamander’s hands. “No offence buddy, but you’ve picked up too much information about me over the years, stuff that you’ve tried to use to blackmail me on too many occasions.”

The fireballs shot out and Salamander stalked off, leaving his informant’s body ablaze.
“Now, to find someone that can actually help me…”