Now this is the last of my complete and unpublished short stories.  It is ready to go up but I am stuck on my cover for this.  I am hoping I will come up with something good this week so I can be all caught up and go on to my other projects.

This tale is about a body thief and of course Death.  I don’t know why it seems to be giving me trouble coming up with a cover but well this happens right?  I have had so much fun writing my Death stories but I think maybe I am a little burned out on them.  After all this will be the fifteenth one!  That is a lot of shorts right?  And yes sometime this summer I will be combining them into one book.  Fifteen is a lot of short stories and some are doing better than the others in the reader world.

Okay here is the opening to this tale.


Undying Trickster

A Death Walks Through short story

By Lisa Williamson

“No!  I refuse!”

Death stood with a lifted brow.  Most wanted to move on but came stuck.  A simple nudge helped them move past and onward.  This woman was one of the angry ones.

“Why?” he asked, his oddly hollow voice echoing in the dark room.


She turned, the long fan of dark hair floating around her.  “I am not supposed to be here.  That bitch stole my form, forced me out.”  The anger crackled in the dim space that they stood in.  Her eyes held the glow of the righteous.  Something Death had seen many times over the years.

There were always a few who claimed they were ousted by another soul.  In all the centuries of his existence he had only met a handful that were truly pushed from their living body by forces other than nature.  He leaned back against a wall that was not there, crossed his arms and looked over the soul before him.

It was true that she held more definition than the other ghosts he helped.  If it had not been for the fact that they were standing in the realm between life and death he would say she was alive.  There was nothing wavering, lost or washed out about this woman.

Flicking his thumb he lit a cheroot and narrowed his eyes.  There, faintly behind her, was the silver cord that attached the living to their bodies.  Those 2who spirit walked had strong cords, those truly dead had no cord.  This cord was thick and pulsing with energy but with some type of clamp attached to it.  He stepped around the woman and walked its length.

As he neared the clamp the whoosh of feathers filled the quite.  “You overstep your bounds.  Release this soul.”

Death looked up and shook his head with a sigh.  “Not me holding her, Angel.”


So once I get a cover figured out this tale will go up.  Anyone interested?