I am a director of casualties, and overseer to the world's most influential shows. The set and characters of each scene must be organized and played out accurately for the audience. The audience must remember the day in a special place of their mind, and for most, that never fails. My goal isn't to shock, terrify, or leave a mark of depression. I aim to keep ones remembered, and it is perhaps through death that one is imprinted most on history. Not many days of a life are remembered more than the day in which the life concluded.

Don't think of me as a heartless ghost, who sees my own line of work as sadistic game. It is true that I don't possess a heart, but my job is a task that must be done, and it must be done frequently. The world knows this, as they've come to accept me, though many are still fearful of my appearance. I don't wish to influence one's ideas of life, but I still remain curious as to what the earth would be like if I was not seen as a harbinger of sadness.

Any human would believe my line of work to be one of tragedy, and if I were human, I would probably think so as well. Many are emotionally broken by a single death, a demise of someone close, loved, or simply familiar. But I've seen the deaths of millions, each in pinpoint, sometimes brutal detail, and I still believe the end to be a critical point of a meaningful life. It is through one's death where they are perhaps most remembered, and if a human lived forever, a true memory of the individual would never exist.

I've never met any living human, which is conflicting considering the decision I make for them. I like to walk the cities, passing every citizen as they take no notice of my invisible form. I'm trapped in my own reality, knowing that every day I will direct another end of a long, perhaps meaningful story. I look into a man's eyes, and I attempt to get a sense of who he is. His business attire suggests that he works a higher-class job. I would imagine that he's made an effort to be where he is, as he wears a rather expensive watch on his wrist, which he checks frequently. I think if he may have a family, which is always difficult to decipher if one's alone. I look away from him, and I see him turn a corner at the end of the street. He will be hit by a car by the end of the day. I knew his scene the second I saw him.

It's through knowing a human's death that makes me feel as if I know one personally, in a way that transcends any living relationship. Their death, their final thoughts and actions, what one reveals in minutes gives me a sense of an entire lifetime. I discover a past through the means of an end.

When a humans know another, they believe so because of mere facts. They know birthdays, favorite possessions and activities, friends, perhaps family. One could know every detail about a life, excluding and perhaps ignoring the final part of it. How would a friendship be if two men knew no details of each other, aside from the exact date of their deaths? I ponder if they would know each other in the same way I feel. It makes me want to talk to some, to know the small pieces of their life that I could never decode. I can only see so much of a life as it flashes away.

Humans have made my job rather difficult. Few die from nature anymore, as I was once familiar with. They more so die from each other, killing for money, power, or pure, psychotic rage. It's unpredictable, as a human's fate can change from a mere spoken word. I believe that I have man's end set, until he utters the words, "Yes sir". He's then thrown on the front lines, subjected to the will of another murderous individual, and placed on a path that is far away from the one I had set. I feel no anger, sadness, or failure from this, but it does bring confusion. I had once believed I had a form of control over the world, where it was a job of mine to keep balance. I never viewed myself as a god, despite what stories have presented me to be, but I do think I played an important role. I no longer view myself as a director as I first described, but a mere cleaner, who always has a lost, stained soul to remove from the ground.

I saw the businessman from earlier again. He was getting close to his destination, to where I decided to watch his final moments. All of the set was about to move into place, and he was still completely unaware of the speeding driver at the end of the street. He wasn't paying attention, as he was once again gazing at his expensive watch. The driver of the vehicle was unable to stop quick enough.

The car impacted the man on his side, forcing him down to the tar with his head slamming down with it, which killed him instantly. I knew his end was quick, but I pictured him at least witnessing his last moments. Maybe it was better that way.

No bystander even reacted until they saw the man's body in the streets. Many stared in surprise of what may have just happened, but as I expected, no one really made an effort to go to his aid. True, I knew he was dead, but only I knew it the moment it happened. If I didn't possess the knowledge, I would have assumed the man to be unconscious. The driver of the car reluctantly came out of his vehicle, unable to handle the role he had just played. He called an ambulance, which arrived minutes later.

I stood watching, as I still had questions that I believed would be answered. I was intrigued to know if the the man had a family, as it's always a curious thought. I watched every minute as they attempted to hopelessly give life back to the man on the spot. My work can't be undone, which is a fact that humans still fail to fully grasp.

I watched for a bit longer, but I don't have much free time anymore. Perhaps the man did have a family, but it will have to be left to my imagination, as I can't wait around all day Events such as war, murder and sickness never change, and neither does my work. For life is a path, and a busy one. Death, however, is a destination. For some, the path is long, with the destination a distance away. For others, it can be the next step, a step that I will be there to oversee.