Reaper looked out towards the horizon at the setting sun. A flock of birds flew across the sky in a V-formation. A gust of cool wind blew, lifting the cloak that Reaper was wearing. But Reaper felt no cold. A little agitated, she smoothed the cloak back down again and brushed imaginary specks off the suit she was wearing. Black trousers, black shirt, black jacket, black cloak. There was no other colour Reaper wore. She turned back to face the crossroads. They were empty. Hardly any vehicles travelled through these country roads now, most preferring to use the new, modern highways. She tapped her foot, a little impatient, and lifted her wrist to glance at her watch. A nerving screech and a loud crash caused her to look back towards the crossroads. A small, compact Japanese car laid a tangled heap next to a 1-ton trailer. Reaper strode nonchalantly towards the car. Inside, a man in his mid-thirties, his body stabbed with shards of glass from the windscreen, laid pinned under the steering wheel. Reaper could see a sliver had pierced right through his lungs and he was painfully gasping for air. His eyes widened in fear as he saw her approach him. Reaper reached towards his body and her hand penetrated right in. As she removed her hand, the man shuddered and let out his last breath. She held a thin piece of translucent film, human-shaped yet not quite. She released it and watched it sink into and through the ground. Too bad. He should have done more good. Oh well, her job here was completed anyway, she thought as she walked to a parked Lamborghini (need I say that it’s black?), got in and zoomed off towards her next destination.

~~~

A young man waved his hand through the smoke, clearing it a bit as he wove in and out among the boisterous crowd. There were people everywhere - with the majority hunched over tables with frowning brows. He spotted an empty seat at one of the tables and quickly made his way towards it. Sitting down, he shifted a little to make himself more comfortable. Place your bets, the croupier called out. The young man reached into his jacket pocket and scooped up all the chips he had and placed them all in front of him. The croupier raised a brow and secretly grinned to himself. A fool and his money are soon to be parted, he sniggered. I’ll soon wipe that silly smile off your face, the croupier thought as he proceeded to deal the cards. 15 minutes into the game, the croupier was wiping the sweat off his forehead. The young man had won all the games he had played. Not only that, he kept doubling his winnings. If he kept it up, the croupier would surely have to close his table. His hand was shaking as he dealt him another card. Black jack yet again! The crowd that had gathered around him clapped and the young man beamed gleefully. What luck, they whispered. The young man smiled, stood up and swept his winnings onto a tray. He had had enough. Scooping a handful he placed them on the table and shoved it towards the weary and worried-looking croupier, nodded his head and went to cash in the remaining chips. Leaving the casino, he spotted a homeless woman and her kid begging by the street. He walked up to them and dropped the stack of notes into her bowl. He didn’t need them as much as this mother and child did. After all, there’s more where that came from, he thought to himself.

~~~

Spyda tapped on her keyboard as she watched the computer screen light up in thin, complex lines. Trust man to think of something like this, she mused. It had certainly made her work a lot easier and more relaxed. When computers became hugely popular, her colleagues had suggested she get one and computerised her whole system. She had sneered at the idea. I don’t need one of those, she argued. Her system worked fine the way it was, thank you. After much pestering from them as well as the fact that they went ahead and got her one anyway, she had finally relented and set about learning how to use it. I can’t believe I could have done all my work without a computer before, she shook her head as she continued tapping on the keyboard and dragging her finger over the screen. As her finger touched the screen, new lines formed and wove with the existing ones. They stretched, filling all the screens in the fairly large room Spyda called her office. There were probably a total of 500 screens or more - each screen showing a number of complex web-like configurations. Most were intricately interwoven with each other, though some lines longer and some lines shorter. One particular thread that Spyda was working on suddenly developed a bubble along it. Somewhere in the world, a doctor told his patient that the persistent cough he had been having had been diagnosed as tuberculosis. Spyda ran her finger along that particular thread, just at the rim of the bubble, and watched the thread grow, a few more bubbles developing along the way. Oh well, that’s what you get if you don’t stop smoking, she scolded at the thread.

~~~

The guy and the girl had been going at each other’s throat for the past hour. No, make that ever since they met each other 2 weeks ago. Eros squatted between them, as he looked left at the guy and right at the girl. He shook his head and his hands covered his ears as he tried to block out the din. Finally unable to take it any longer, he reached into his jacket and removed a small gun from the holster. Pulling back on the clip, he checked to make sure it was loaded. He looked back up at them again. They were still at it. Sighing to himself, he casually pointed the gun at the guy and pulled the trigger. The bullet penetrated squarely into his heart. Satisfied with his shot, Eros now turned to the girl. He pointed the gun at her and pulled the trigger. Again, the bullet went straight into her heart. Now, we shall have some peace and quiet, he mused as he got up and walked away. He blew at the smoke from the barrel and twirled his gun cowboy-like before expertly placing it back into its holster. Unable to resist one last look, Eros turned back to find the guy and girl smooching away like two lovebirds. He smiled to himself. He didn’t care what they said. The gun was definitely much, much better to use than the old bow and arrow. One has to keep up with the times, he grinned.

~~~

They are not living yet they are not dead. They are immortal yet they are not gods. They exist because they have always existed. They are, in some ways, caretakers. Their job, to take care of human life. To watch over them and to make sure everything runs smoothly and that each life takes the course it should. Their names are Reaper, Chance, Spyda and Eros. Or better known to man as DEATH, LUCK, FATE and LOVE.