Terry Pratchett - Reaper Man

He reached down and picked it up, held it up to an investigative eye socket.

I KNEW I'D MISSED SOMEONE.

The Death of Rats nodded.

SQUEAK?

Death shook his head.

NO, I CAN'T LET YOU REMAIN, he said. IT'S NOT AS THOUGH I'M RUNNING A FRANCHISE OR SOMETHING.

SQUEAK?

ARE YOU THE ONLY ONE LEFT?

The Death of Rats opened a tiny skeletal hand. The tiny Death of Fleas stood up, looking embarrassed but hopeful.

NO. THIS SHALL NOT BE. I AM IMPLACABLE. I AM DEATH... ALONE.

He looked at the Death of Rats.

He remembered Azrael in his tower of loneliness.

ALONE...

The Death of Rats looked back at him.

SQUEAK?

Picture a tall, dark figure, surrounded by cornfields...

NO. YOU CAN'T RIDE A CAT. WHO EVER HEARD OF THE DEATH OF RATS RIDING A CAT? THE DEATH OF RATS WOULD RIDE SOME KIND OF DOG.

Picture more fields, a great horizon-spanning network of fields, rolling in gentle waves...

DON'T ASK ME I DON'T KNOW. SOME KIND OF TERRIER, MAYBE.

... fields of corn, alive, whispering in the breeze...

RIGHT, AND THE DEATH OF FLEAS CAN RIDE IT TOO. THAT WAY YOU KILL TWO BIRDS WITH ONE STONE.

... awaiting the clockwork of the seasons.

METAPHORICALLY.

And at the end of all stories Azrael, who knew the secret, thought:

I REMEMBER WHEN ALL THIS WILL BE AGAIN.

THE END