Okay, here's a story for you:

There once lived a man who had a big family, a very big family! So big, in fact, that when his thirteenth child was born, he sighed a very big sigh. "Oh dear," he thought, "I need to find a godfather for this little one, but I've already asked everyone I know!"

So, he walked out onto the big road, wondering what to do.

First, he met a kind-looking man in bright clothes. "Hello there!" said the kind man. "I am God. I can be the godfather. I will make your child happy and healthy."
The poor man thought for a moment. "Hmm," he said, "you give lots to rich folks and not so much to poor folks like me. No, thank you." And he walked on.

Next, he met a spooky fellow with a pointy tail and a mischievous grin. "I'll be the godfather!" cackled the Devil. "I'll give your child gold and all the fun in the world!"
The poor man shook his head. "You like to trick people, and that's not very nice. No, thank you." And he walked on.

Finally, a tall, shadowy figure appeared. It was Death, carrying his scythe, but he didn't look scary, just serious. "I will be the godfather," Death said in a quiet voice. "I take everyone, rich or poor, good or bad, when their time comes. I treat everyone the same."
The poor man nodded. "That sounds fair! You can be the godfather."

So, Death became the little boy's godfather. When the boy grew up, Death came to him. "My dear godson," Death said, "I want to help you. I will make you a famous doctor."
He showed the young man a special plant. "When you visit someone sick," Death explained, "look for me. If I am standing at the person's head, give them this herb, and they will get better. But if I am standing at their feet, then their time has come. Nothing can save them, and they must come with me."

The young man became a very famous doctor. He always knew who would live and who would not, all thanks to his godfather, Death. He became rich and respected.

One day, the King became very ill. The doctor was called to the palace. When he entered the King's room, oh dear! Death was standing right at the King’s feet.
"He must die," the doctor thought. But then he saw all the gold and jewels the King offered. "Hmm," he thought, "maybe I can trick Death just this once."
Quick as a flash, he asked the servants to turn the King’s bed around! So now, Death was standing at the King’s head. The doctor quickly gave the King the herb, and the King got better.

Death was not happy. He frowned at his godson. "You tricked me!" he whispered. "I will let it go this time because I am your godfather. But if you ever do it again, you will be in big trouble."

Not long after, the beautiful Princess, the King's only daughter, became terribly sick. The King promised that whoever saved her could marry her and become the next king.
The doctor rushed to her bedside. And there, at the Princess’s feet, stood Death, looking very stern.
The doctor was so dazzled by the Princess's beauty and the thought of becoming king that he forgot Death's warning. "I must save her!" he thought. He quickly gave the Princess the herb, hoping Death wouldn't notice or would forgive him again.

But Death had had enough. He grabbed the doctor’s arm with his cold, bony hand. "Come with me," he said, and his voice was like the rustling of dry leaves.
Death led him down, down, down into a huge, dark cave. Inside, thousands and thousands of candles were burning. Some were big and tall, burning brightly. Some were small and flickering, and some were just tiny stumps, about to go out.
"These," said Death, "are the life-lights of all the people in the world. Big candles mean long lives. Small ones mean short lives."

The doctor looked around, scared. "Where is my candle, Godfather?" he asked.
Death pointed to a tiny little stump of a candle, its flame flickering weakly, almost ready to go out.
"Oh, Godfather!" cried the doctor. "Please, light me a new candle! Let me live longer to marry the Princess and enjoy my riches!"
Death looked at him. "I cannot," he said. "A candle that has burned down cannot be made new. You tricked me twice."
"But please," begged the doctor, "at least put this little piece on top of a new, big candle, so it can catch fire again!"

Death pretended to think. "Alright," he said. He picked up the tiny candle stump. He made as if he was going to place it carefully on a fresh, new candle. But just as he was about to do it, he "accidentally" let the little stump fall.
It hit the ground and poof! The flame went out.
And in that very same moment, the doctor fell down, and his life was over. Death had taken him, just as he takes everyone, when their time is up.

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