Cedar Sanderson is doing N'inktober, so I'm going to follow along and do what I've been trained to do by the Raconteur Press Postcard books: come up with a story to match her visual prompts. I can't guarantee that I'll have a complete story for every image, but I'm going to at least try to come up with a scene, a start, or an idea!
Kerfluffle Scythe
It wasn’t that he minded watching his sister’s demesne. She did the same for him, after all, on those occasions when his Duty took him beyond his normal bounds. It was just that he never quite knew how to deal properly with her Garden.
Back at his place, the Graveyard never really needed much in the way of tending. Dead things rarely did. Here in the Garden, though, there were all manner of chores to attend to. Trim this. Prune that. Plant there. Gather this other thing.
He glanced down at the crowd of animals by his feet. Entertain the residents.
His residents didn’t need entertaining. Quite frankly, it wasn’t a skill he had ever felt the need to develop, aside from the times he visited his sister. He had a vague feeling that somehow that didn’t count because family. Despite his lack of experience, though, he thought that he had come up with a rather workable solution over the aeons.
“I am not sure.” He made a show of glancing at the sky, where the sun - as always - hung in just the right position. “It looks like she should be home soon.”
The geese bowed their heads in resignation. The rabbits drooped their ears sadly. Even the quokka somehow managed to look crestfallen. The squirrels, on the other hand, were having none of it, and started chittering accusingly while leaping about.
He could always count on the squirrels.
“Huurrrrm.” He drew out the syllables, a muttering thought given form. “Perhaps you’re right.” The squirrels stopped, quivering in place. The other animals lifted their heads hopefully.
With a practices motion, Death reached over with his right hand, grabbed his left hand at the wrist, and twisted. Finger and hand bones separated, clattering into his hand. He looked down at the eager animals in front of him.
“Ready?” He pulled back his arm and whipped it forward. Tiny bones arced through the air, gleaming white in the sun, scattering in every direction.
“GO!”
The animals exploded away from him with a bevy of squeaks, chirps, chitters and honks. One duck started to waddle away, then turned and gave him a satisfied quack before waddling off into the high grass of the meadow.
“You’re welcome.” He glanced at the sun, which was in the exact position it was always in. He’d take some extra time to do the watering and gathering and everything else with her when she got back. Until then, there was more than enough time for another game of fetch.
Hahahahah! Perfect!