I keep on wandering around the world to collect the souls of the dying, humans and nonhumans. As an omnipresent being, I am able to be anywhere at the same time. This helps me cater all souls that venture, souls who could not find their way to the other side. One second, I am somewhere in Asia talking to a woman who will lose her life by choking. Another second and I can be in Europe, dancing with a lady who will eventually get killed in a fire.

Being omnipresent, transcending through space and time, does not mean that I am omniscient. I don't have an answer to everything. As eras end and centuries go by, I have learned to adapt to humankind's way of thinking and to behave like them if it fits me. Being exposed to different people with varying knowledge, being able to watch them all throughout is how I get the wisdom I possess. However, emotions, thoughts and intentions, or any other subjective matters are still abstruse and mystifying for me because these things vary from every person.

People's fate can also be deceiving. No one knows what the future holds as they say. Even I, Death, do not see what will happen to a person until the connection to the other side is made. Until they experience a Glimpse of Death.

There was a time when I was about to welcome a boy named Kong Nyong, a malnourished child living in the southern part of Sudan. With his flimsy body and scrawny build caused by many factors in his environment, I did not consider him living for another day. But he lived through the horror of what he experienced for another fourteen years. It was a story of how life let a child, who was already on the brink of death, live. It was at this moment when I grasped that fate can be altered.

A hot afternoon on a scarce land, where getting through a day of hunger was a day-to-day basis, I arrived. It was just not hunger, it was famine. As the other parts of the world were flourishing with resources, other countries in Africa were lacking with them due to economic matters, flood, and these were followed by drought and diseases. For these reasons, some parts of the continent of Africa were linked to catastrophic levels of food shortage, a serious issue that still exists even up to this day.

Hourglasses of people, slowly emptying of sands, as well as the sight of starvation set before my eyes. People, most likely children, were yearning for food to put on their mouths. They were lacking essential nutrients needed by their body, having a scraggly figure and a bloated abdomen. Being considered as undernourished, they were often acquainted with immune dysfunction, making them prone to sickness such as common cold and fever. They were desperately clinging to life in a situation where having a meal in a day is already a convenience to fill their growling stomach.

The United Nations paved the way to assess this problem of continuous hunger. They established feeding centers to cater the people's need for nutrition and sent their men from outreach divisions to instigate studies about the never-ending scarcity in some parts of Africa. Many benefited from the actions taken by the intergovernmental organization. However, going to the location of the center to sate his hunger for the day seemed to be a death flag waving for a starving child.

Nyong, aged three at the time, belonged among a fraction who were given a second chance at life. Depraved of what his body needs, he did not grow so well, just like the other kids in their small town. I watched him as he hopefully waited for corn or cassava to be eaten in the afternoon. Even the water supply was scarce, causing him to drink unclean water from the ditches. Although he can get through every day with these supplies of nutrients, a daily dose of these was just not enough for him, or for the children who just wanted to pass their hunger for the day.

Knowing that food would be served for him, he followed his parents to the center, not knowing the consequence of going there without food to eat since the day before. Who has the heart to blame him, though? Or them? It was never their fault for just wanting to fill their empty stomach.

Because of the dizziness due to hunger, he rested halfway through, in need of food and fluid to take, under the scorching sun. His parents were busy taking food from the plane when he just suddenly collapsed. His face touching the parched ground, his bony arms and legs supporting the whole of his light body weight. Hungry and dehydrated, with no one nearby to check on him.

What happened next was worse than dying from starvation. Not from afar, a vulture landed, approaching Nyong little by little. The scavenger stared at him like a prey, waiting for him to take his final breath. Nyong's death is certain.

That point onwards, I was ready to take his agony, to tell him that hunger does not exist in the Realm. It was the only way I could be of help; I must not interfere for that will be defying the Law of Natural Order. I wanted to help him, to ease the burden he was feeling—but all I could do was watch. Ah, this is the worst job ever.

The sands were slowly vanishing from his hourglass, depicting his fate nearing its end. But there was no pause in time.

Fortunately for Nyong, there was someone who came to his rescue. A man carrying a camera with him. From a standpoint, I could clearly see him positioning for angles to take some shots. Few minutes had passed but he never provided any help at all. He was just tinkering with his camera, taking photos of the scene slowly unveiling in front of me.

"There is a hideous evil lurking in every man."

Words I borrowed after hearing them from a philosopher many centuries ago. A sentence that is impactful in its own nature because of its utter significance. At every point in time, I will come across people who are calm and collected, wearing a smile that conceals their surreal intentions. And I think this is true for all humans.

But whenever I ponder about it, if there really is an evil in every man, what kind of evil was lingering inside of Nyong? Or to every child in here? To every child in the world in general? Perhaps, those words are meant for people with ability to think, which makes it hard for me to be able to fully comprehend them.

After a few more minutes, the man stood up on his feet and finally chased the vulture away. I did not really know what came into his mind for letting that happen. "Did he have a heart at all?" will probably be asked by someone after learning what happened. The man would be considered as another vulture by many who thought about the grim sight.

He did have a heart. He did chase the vulture away after some time, but he did. In fact, he was the one who saved the child from certain death. Whereas I—could not even lay a finger. Perhaps, I was the heartless one for not even doing a thing but to watch.

I also could not let myself blame the vulture, its behavior was within its nature—its directive. To interfere at the scenes that happened was not within mine. Perhaps, I was the real vulture out there. But would you blame me if I just want the child to be free from his suffering? This clash of thoughts within my head is constantly making me question my purpose.

Do I just guide souls finding their way to the other side? Or am I to take people's grim experiences brought by life and endure it all throughout until I forget all about it?

The child would later be sent to the feeding center, thanks to the man. Maybe Nyong would not even recall what happened to him because he was unconscious, holding a thread of hope for another chance at life. This incident triggered the time in the hourglass of the man who would carry a dreadful memory for the rest of his remaining three months. Looking at the sunset under a tree, he lit a cigarette and cried.

The man would later be known as Kevin Carter, a journalist who was awarded with a Pulitzer Prize because of the photos he took. "The Vulture and The Little Girl" was published in The New York Times and sparked a worldwide interest to solve the crisis happening in South Sudan at the time. This incident also moved the people and raised some questions about the morality of Carter, or the ethics of the whole photojournalism industry.

I witnessed how Carter lived through it every day. Being criticized by the masses, and seeing his award with an attached disgust about himself. He questioned his own sanity every time he thought about what happened. Did he do it because of the potential award he might get? Or did he simply just wanted to see what might occur? Only Carter knew the answer.

Perhaps, there is really a hideous evil lurking in every man. An evil just waiting for a chance to show itself in a very timely manner, disguising itself as the very nature hiding in the depths of every man.

Carter went to his pickup truck and taped a hose in the exhaust pipe running through the driver's side window. He stared at his reflection on the side mirror for quite some time. Seeing his face made him sit on the ground, closing his eyes as he pulled his hair out.

"The image of the child on the brink of dying, waiting is a vulture. And I used that chance to win an award. It's within me forever, swallowing me whole. I just can't fight it anymore," he hopelessly said.

"I was there. I saw what really happened."

"Tell the child that I am sorry."

"I will. When his time comes," I assured.

He drove to a place where he used to play as a child—a place where he chose to be his final destination. Kevin Carter decided to end all of his pain after three months of grueling thoughts that were living inside his head. He slowly lost consciousness by inhaling the smoke of his truck. He was rushed to the hospital after someone saw him unconscious inside his truck. It was found out later that he died due to carbon monoxide poisoning.

There are already too many cases of deaths by suicide. Pressure. Failure. Fear. Depression. Twisted thoughts. Too many.

In Carter's case, maybe it was never a suicide. The one that killed him is his guilt. Maybe it was his conscience that told him to just end it all. But people's thoughts will never be held responsible, it is the possessor of these thoughts that always suffer.

Fourteen years later, I visited Nyong. He had grown a lot and surely made the most of his second chance at life. But it was about his time. He was lying helplessly on the woven bamboo strip because of a fever. What seemed to be a mild sickness became the cause of his death.

Fate could be altered. But it doesn't mean that it can be escaped.

In a place covered by blinding lights, I offered him my greetings. "You did well, Kong. Welcome to the Realm of Souls."

He responded with a smile and his eyes showing a gleam of freedom from sickness and hunger, which reminded me of that time. While guiding him to the other side, I could not resist asking him about the incident.

"Do you recall what happened fourteen years ago? Do you know about the person who took the photo?"

"Yes, I remember him. I learned that he took his own life because of the incident."

"He said that he was sorry for using you, on the face of death, as a subject."

"I already forgive him. I am grateful to him. He was the one who saved me, after all. Would I be able to meet him here?"

"I doubt that will happen. There are billions of souls here."

We had a little chat as we were making our way to the gate. A moment like this is probably what I yearn for every soul I meet, forgiveness and acceptance about the life that they have lived.