The Reaper's Redemption

The boy was young and beautiful. His skin was milk white, which contrasted with his shiny raven-black locks. Big clear, ice-blue orbs that mesmerized all who looked into them regarded the world from his rosy-cheeked angelic face. It was as if the fairytale Snow White had stepped from page or film and entered our world as a boy of barely eight years. Yes indeed, everyone said that many smitten young ladies would fall for the beautiful boy in years to come.

It was late October and the leaves were turning to a glorious riot of red, brown and gold. Pumpkins, Indian corn and jack-o-lanterns were everywhere as people prepared for Halloween. And the boy walked from school with the other children. A small lunch box at his side.

As the boy neared home, an icy wind picked up, and the sun seemed to dim. Yet no cloud crossed it. It was then that the boy heard the voice: come here. The boy stopped. There was something about that voice that made him stop, made him listen. Come here, the voice said again. The boy looked across the street. The voice was coming from there...come here, the voice said for a third time.

The boy stepped into the street, people screamed and tried to reach him. The silver SUV hit it's brakes, but it was too late.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The black robed figure arrived upon the scene. No one noticed him, and it was good that they didn't - for he was the primordial human fear, skeletal with his scythe called The Final Silence at his side. His face was the grinning face of death. For that was who he was, Death - the Grim Reaper.

Despite what most of the teeming hordes of humanity thought, he was not present at every death - there were simply far too many. He was only present at the death's that fate deemed to be of importance.

So why am I at the death of a child? A child killed in a simple traffic accident? The Reaper asked himself as he looked around and then he saw him: a boy. He stood there, staring at the scene. As The Reaper approached the boy, the boy turned his attention from the accident - his death - and to the Reaper. Strangely the boy showed no fear. In fact, he only had a look of deep sadness upon his face.

“Will they be alright without me?” The Boy asked the Reaper.

“Who?” The Reaper was taken aback. No denials? No fear? That is new. He said to himself.

“Mommy, Daddy, Rexie”. The Boy responded.

I should've realized who, his family. I imagine Rexie is a pet. “Yes. In time.'' The Reaper lied to the Boy.

The Boy approached the Reaper and took his left hand. Again the Reaper was taken aback. No one willingly had ever taken his hand...ever. Especially a child.

“What happened? Did you not see the truck?” The Reaper asked the Boy.

“No. You called me.” The Boy responded.

“What? What do you mean?” The Reaper stopped walking as he questioned the Boy.

“You called me. You told me to come to you.” The Boy responded.

“No. I did not. I arrived after your passing. I only arrive after the thread of life has been cut.” The Reaper informed the Boy.

“Well someone called me.” The Boy said.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three days had passed. Tomorrow it will be Halloween.

The Girl was young and beautiful. Her golden hair was worn in twin braids and her eyes were a strikingly warm shade of green. Her smile could light up any room, and everyone loved her like a fairytale princess. Wherever she went, people’s hearts lightened. She stepped off the bus and pulled her hoodie tighter. It was a cold autumn day.

As the Girl turned to walk up the driveway an icy wind picked up, and the sun seemed to dim. Yet no cloud crossed it. It was then that the Girl heard the voice: stop. The Girl stopped and turned around. “Hello?” The Girl called. Yet there was no one there. She turned back to her house but heard the voice again: stop. Don't move.

Again the Girl turned around. Again there was no one there. Her mother called her from the porch.

The car came out of nowhere, a blown tire. The man behind the wheel fought to stop it. The last sound the Girl heard was her mother’s scream.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Reaper was troubled. The Boy had stayed with him, and no one ever stayed with him. The people he came for passed on from this world of pain and sorrow quickly. Frankly, the Reaper did not know what to do.

Then he heard the call. The Reaper turned to the Boy. “Fate summons me. I must go. You may remain here, or you may come with me.” The Reaper told the Boy.

‘Here’ was an empty field ringed by trees. The Boy got up to leave. And together they stepped to where the Reaper needed to be.

The black robed figure and the Boy arrived upon the road. As always, no one noticed them.

So why am I called to the death of yet another child? Another child killed in another simple traffic accident? The second in three days. The Reaper looked around and then he saw the Girl. The Girl turned her attention from the accident - her death - and to the Reaper. Strangely, like the Boy, before her, she showed no fear. In fact, she only had a look of deep sadness upon her face.

As the Reaper approached her she said to him: “why did you tell me to stop and don't move?” There was no anger or accusation in her tone. But her words made the Reaper stop in his tracks.

“I did not. I only just arrived. I never arrive before the event.” The Reaper said, as much to himself as to the Girl. Something is wrong, very wrong, the Reaper thought.

But oddly the Girl was no longer focused on him, but on the Boy who stood in his shadow. In fact, they were intensely focused on each other. It was then the Reaper made a fateful decision, he broke the spell between the two children with his words: “children we must leave this place. Take my robe.” The children did so and the trio stepped to where they needed to be.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had returned to the empty field. The Reaper turned to the children, “stand behind me, a good distance, and try not to be afraid.” The Reaper then began to chant in a language not heard by mortal man for an age. The Reaper continued this chant for a full ten minutes as the two children stood a hundred feet back from him holding hands and staring at each other. Neither spoke.

The wind started to pick up dramatically and the clouds parted and suddenly twin things appeared in the sky. Two great black wheels that burned with a white fire, reminiscent of twin eclipses. If one could bear to stare into their light, one would see the multitude of eyes staring back at him. The Reaper sank to one knee and lowered his gaze to the ground. For even Death feared the many eyed gaze of the Ophanim. For the Ophanim were angels, and angels are truly horrifying.

A moment later an opening appeared before the Reaper that reflected a place of glory and serenity, and someone walked through it. A being, composed as much of light as of flesh, he was tall, at least as tall as two men and clad in armor of polished gold. A halo of white fire framed his golden locks and his eyes were twin lanterns of golden light. But his most distinct features were the three pairs of white wings that grew from his back. The Reaper knew that this was Michael, the general of the Heavenly Host and servant of I Am.

The Archangel Michael approached the Reaper and stared down at him disdainfully before speaking: “Never before have you summoned us Cursed One. Why do you do so now?”

“Great One, I have encountered...something strange...in the death of these two children.” The Reaper replied.

“The death of two children? You are the Grim Reaper. You have witnessed the deaths of millions of human beings just in the last century alone, yet you are concerned about the death of these two? Why?” Michael asked.

“There is something different about these two children. Something...extraordinary.” The Reaper explained. “They are unlike any that I have reaped before.” He added.

“Then we shall look upon the souls of these departed children.” Michael turned and addressed them, “come young ones, let me see you. Do not be afraid.”

The Boy and Girl advanced holding hands. Neither said anything. And like before neither showed any fear.

Michael stared at them for a long moment and his face began to show concern. He turned to the Reaper and said gravely: “Tell me everything - spare not a single detail.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

The Reaper finished his tale and as instructed included everything, including his thoughts and concerns.

The Archangel never took his eyes from the Boy and Girl, even when he addressed the Reaper. "You were right to come to us. These two were to have had an important part in the destiny of man."

"Destiny of man?" The Reaper asked.

"Oh yes. Our Lord I Am has always planned for mankind to become his greatest creation. However, it was to be a process, an evolution of free will. It was this knowledge that caused my brother to open himself to corruption. His resentment, his jealousy. These were the doorways to his downfall. These children, together, along with others, would have brought into being a more enlightened race, the next step on the spiritual evolution of man." The Archangel explained.

"So it was your brother the Morningstar that led these two to their demise? He was the voice!?" The Reaper asked incredulously.

"No. I do not sense my brother's hand in this. I sense the work of darker powers."

"Darker powers? But Lucifer…" The Reaper began.

"My brother allowed envy, hatred and jealousy into his heart. It was all the opening that those from beyond needed. Our Father, I Am, created this universe from the Void. But not all of the Void. There were and still ARE things in the Void, dark horrid things, so vile that even I fear their shadow. These caused my brother and his minions to fall. And I believe they are responsible for the deaths of these blessed children." The Archangel explained.

The Reaper, still on his knees, finally looked up at Michael, too stunned to speak from what he had learned.

"But, now we must see to these blessed souls taken before their time. Come children take my hands. Do not be afraid." The Boy - still holding the Girl's hand - took the Archangel's left hand, while the Girl took the Archangel's right hand. "I will send you high upon the Mountain of Glory." Michael said with a gentle smile. Both children glowed with a soft golden light and disappeared.

"I cannot return them to their physical bodies. That is beyond me, but such souls will be reborn into the world of man soon enough. But now we must see that the others are safe and protected." The Archangel said.

"As for you…" Michael turned to the Reaper. "Show me your brand." The Archangel commanded.

The Reaper started to reach for his hood, but hesitated.

"Why do you resist? Do as I bade you." Michael said, a tone of gentle reproach in his voice.

"I am ashamed. I have kept it hidden for so many thousands of years." The Reaper said sheepishly. Even as he lowered his hood. Upon his skeletal brow was a burning rune. At once red, black and gold. The Mark of Cain.

"Your penance has been long. Your sentence has been hard, though it has been just. But even the first murderer may earn forgiveness. I, the Archangel Michael, servant of I Am, grant you redemption Cain son of Adam. Take my hand and join me on Heaven's holy mountain." The Archangel said as the figure rose, skeletal and black clad no longer, but a handsome golden haired youth, his brow was clear of the burning mark and tears streamed down his face as he took the Archangel's hand and followed him into paradise.