AH – 5th October 2014
Famine twiddled her rotting fingers.
“What are you going to say to him?” asked Pestilence.
“I honestly don’t know,” she replied. “What can you say? I mean, this has never happened before.”
“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IN TROUBLE,” bellowed War.
Famine looked over at the brute sat at the far end of the table, slouched back in a chair that could barely support his bulk. He held his flagon of ale as a salute to her before downing the lot. He belched, the echo of which engulfed the Horseman’s temple.
“As always War,” said Famine, “you’re a big help.”
“NOT MY PROBLEM. DEATH ISN’T GOING TO BE MAD WITH ME.”
“He might not even notice,” said Pestilence. “
“Really?” said Famine. “How long have we worked for Death? He hates change, says it ruins the theatrical ambience that humans expect. Remember that time I said we should trade up for motorcycles? That was a big old no.”
“He likes rules,” said Pestilence.
“And punishment,” said Famine.
“Like when War nearly missed D-Day because he was drunk,” said Pestilence.
War stopped laughing. “HE TOOK MY SWORD AWAY.”
“I know,” said Famine. “And you didn’t like that, did you?”
War just shook his head.
Famine lent back in her chair and sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to accept my fate and make do without my horse.”
From outside came a rumbling sound that gradually built up until it peaked with a crack of thunder. Famine, Pestilence and War all stood up from the table as Death walked into the temple, a thin carpet of smoke preceding his footsteps.
“Sit,” he said, his gravelly voice reaching every nook and cranny of the ancient stone walls.
Famine sat back down as Death passed behind her. She raised her decaying left hand. “Sir, about the camel.”
Death stopped and slowly turned his head towards her. “Disappointed.”
Famine didn’t bother to argue. It was difficult when the other person only spoke in single words and continually grinned.
Death continued to the head of the table while famine prepared to say goodbye to her Judgement Scales.