Chauncey is misunderstood. Maybe it’s the exposed bone or the stench of decay that make people fearful. After all, it’s not everyday you come across the undead. But you see, Chauncey isn’t the bad guy in this story. He’s simply the messenger.

You will only see Chauncey when it’s your time to die. He tries to be gentle as he understands how unnerving of a process it can be. He tries to hide his face and body to make it less obvious of his true intentions. His skeletal limitations don’t allow him to reassure you with a kind word or a sympathetic frown. Chauncey can only be cold and stiff. He brings a gift to each of his guests but most of them don’t appreciate his thoughtfulness. He’s not evil. He’s simply the messenger.

It’s easy to feel bad for Chauncey when you’re not his next guest. But how do your feelings change when you see him standing in the street, there for you?

With each swipe of the wiper blade, Chauncey seems to get closer and closer. The sound of the raindrops bouncing off the car and the pounding of your heart seem to be beating together. People and cars move right past him, oblivious to his pursuit of you. He arrives at your driver side window. Knock. Knock. Knock.

Without even thinking, you roll down the window. He hands you a small blue butterfly. It looks just like the ones you used to draw on your notebooks as a kid. As his bony hand reaches for yours it’s hard not to plea for more time. You’re not ready. There’s still things you haven’t done and people you aren’t finished loving. Please, not yet. His hand remains open. The hollow of his eyes still fixed on you. Without saying a word, he tells you it’s pointless. It’s time. He didn’t make this decision. He’s simply the messenger.