The Birth of Death

Phineas swung his scythe violently at the corn crop and paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead. It was only spring, but the days were getting hotter fast.

Corn and Phineas shared a tempestuous relationship. On one hand, Phineas thrived on the brute force he invested into each blow. It was strangely satisfying to watch the corn keel and submit to its master, completely at the mercy of human hands and metal blade. On the other, it was hot, tiring work that reminded Phineas too much of God’s Haven, the orphanage that he grew up in.

God’s Haven was different from other orphanages because to the outside world, it appeared to be a loving and nurturing environment. Perhaps that is why Phineas’ mother abandoned him in their intake drop-box as a newborn. Maybe she truly believed his life would be pleasant there. Phineas used that thought to get through his hard days, yet it did little to abate the rage that swirled inside of him.

There were several other orphanages in the surrounding villages and they made no secret of their squalidly living conditions, or the severe corporal punishment inflicted on their residents. It sickened Phineas that the villagers condoned this treatment of troubled children. Indeed, the villagers felt God’s Haven should have been more like the others. What they didn’t know was that behind red brick walls, carpeted with thick moss and flowering climbing vines, lurked a secret society that was governed by its own rules, accountable to nobody.

The children of God's Haven were home-schooled by live-in nuns and forbidden to contact the outside world. They grew their own organic crops and farmed and slaughtered their own animals. Residents lived, died, and were buried behind this picturesque façade of an off-the-grid lifestyle; there was no getting out of God's Haven. Not until Phineas.

When toddlers first learned to talk in God’s Haven, they were transitioned from the nursery into the care of the on-site church. On arrival there, each was assigned a personal nun. This nun schooled the child during the day and at night, retired with them to a shared bedroom. The nuns regularly woke their children to conduct a ritual they called 'Performing Services'. Performing Services was the term used but when the orphanage shut down, it was made abundantly clear to the remaining children and the surviving adults, that this was sexual abuse. Evil by any other name is still evil.

The face of Phineas’ nun remained carved into his memory. Her name was Bertha and she was a heavyset, grey-haired woman with a small, pinched nose and cruel, beady eyes that bore into his own. Years after his escape, Phineas still often woke up drenched in sweat from nightmares about her face and the pungent odour that emanated from her mouth.

When the children of God's Haven turned six, their formal schooling ceased. They were put to work under slave-like conditions. Cleaning could be completed using only a toothbrush and water. No mops, brooms, or scrubbers were permitted. The lawns had to be trimmed on hands and knees with scissors; the gardens were weeded with tweezers. The children were told that this was the only way into Heaven and that their worthiness would be judged by how hard they worked.

Cooking was was another torturous task for the children of God's Haven because they were not permitted to eat the gourmet meals that they cooked for the adults. The children were only allowed a boiled egg for breakfast each day and a chunk of bread for dinner.

Phineas had been unable to stomach eggs or bread since leaving God’s Haven. He was adamant he would sooner starve than be reminded of what survival tasted like.

As a young boy, Phineas worked under those conditions for just three months before deciding that any God who required this of His people was not one that he wanted to know. The nuns warned the children of Satan, Hell, and demons in their teachings but the more Phineas reflected on those stories, the more God seemed to be the most malevolent entity of all. Phineas' deep-rooted feelings of hatred and animosity percolated and grew over the next fourteen years.

The adolescents of God’s Haven went through a rite of passage on their 21st birthday, before their peers, the nuns, and the work duty supervisors. Females were adorned with a nun’s outfit and males were assigned supervisory duties in either cleaning, grounds work, gardening, or the kitchens. The young men took a vow of celibacy and shared their first gourmet meal at a banquet table.

Few of the men of age lived more than a year in their new roles before succumbing to suicide. These suicides were frequent, traumatic scenes that the children were forced to clean up with their toothbrushes and water.

It was rare for the nuns to commit suicide. Phineas tried to imagine why this might have been. He speculated that perhaps their becoming the abusers gave meaning to what the nuns had endured themselves as children. Perhaps the role reversal gave them back their power. Certainly, the men of God's Haven didn’t have power to the same extent that the nuns did. Phineas alternatively hypothesised that the cessation of the young men's abuse may have depleted their self-esteem. Maybe so much so that they felt that they no longer had anything of value to offer to God’s Haven, or the world.

Phineas didn’t want to die. Of all the horrors he’d seen at God’s Haven, the suicides were the most painful. The victims were usually the gentlest and kindest men. The rage inside Phineas grew stronger with each suicide that he witnessed. It twisted in his heart with such savage force that his teeth involuntarily gnashed and his palms became plagued with sores from where his clenched fists had drawn blood. Phineas couldn’t understand how any adult could be satisfied with a life inside the hellhole that was God’s Haven. He didn’t care whether this behaviour was normal in the outside world, for at that point, he believed it was. Phineas knew only that this life wasn’t for him and, one way or another, he was going to get out.

Phineas was reassigned to kitchen duty the year he turned 20. Time was ticking for him to find a way out because he refused to become a complicit adult in the environment he loathed so much. The morning sun rose higher in the sky and beamed through the kitchen window behind the bench where Phineas was chopping vegetables. Its rays bounced off the blade of his knife, almost like a divine Morse code message. A plan began to form in Phineas’ mind.

Phineas arrived early for kitchen duty the following morning. He took his knife from the drawer and set it on the bench. Then Phineas took a ladder from the storage room, collected the other children's knives, and hid them in the ceiling vent. Next, Phineas hoisted himself up, stretched his arms back down, and yanked the ladder up into the ceiling too. Gripping the edges of the vent, he lowered himself back through. He was grateful momentarily for the years of hard labour that had given him strong bicep and calf muscles. This allowed him to land with precision and without injuring himself. Phineas happily whistled a tune as he prepared the breakfast foods while he awaited the arrival of the rest of the crew and their supervisor.

‘Phineas, where are the knives?’ Joseph asked as he looked in the empty drawer.

Joseph was the only friend Phineas had at God's Haven. His greatest regret was leaving him behind when he escaped. Phineas thought about looking for Joseph once or twice over the years but the rhetorical voice in his mind always trumped the longing: You left Joseph there. Do you really think he could forgive you for that?

‘Aren’t the knives there?’ Phineas asked. ‘Mine was on the bench. I must’ve left it there after dinner duty last night.’

‘See for yourself,’ Joseph said, gesturing at the empty cutlery tray with one hand and pushing a lock of thick, curly black hair out of his eyes with the other.

‘They have to be 'ere somewhere,’ the supervisor said. ‘Phineas, get to work since you’re the only one with a knife. The rest of you lot, get lookin' and hurry the fuck up! I want my bacon.’

The kitchen crew scattered like ants seeking shelter from the rain as they desperately searched for their missing knives. Phineas waited until none of the children were near him.

‘Sir, do you see that?’ Phineas asked. ‘Is that the knives out there in the yard?’

The supervisor peered out the window but saw nothing. He stepped closer, just as Phineas had hoped he would. As the supervisor pressed his face to the windowpane, Phineas launched himself onto his back and slit his throat in a single, fluid swipe. A fountain of red sprayed up the walls and arched across the ceiling in a demonic, rainbow shape. The supervisor made a choked, gurgling sound and put a hand to his severed throat. Within seconds, he stumbled, and crumpled against the wall.

The kitchen crew stopped and stared, horrified. Phineas put a finger to his lips and made a throat-slitting motion. Of course he would never really have hurt the other children but his escape depended upon them keeping quiet. Phineas tucked the knife into his belt, spat in the dead supervisor’s face, and walked out of the kitchen. He crossed the lawn and entered the garden. Phineas knelt behind a thick hedge and peeked around the corner. The children were busy with their scissors and tweezers. Their supervisor was sprawled on a section of freshly cut grass sunbaking. In a grand stroke of luck, he had placed his hat over his face. Phineas took out his knife and crept across the lawn. He pounced on the supervisor and clamped a hand firmly on the hat to muffle any screams and plunged the knife into the supervisor's stomach repeatedly until his struggling limbs stilled. He pointed the bloodied knife at the stunned children.

‘Cut your grass and weed your gardens,’ Phineas said with a chilling calmness. ‘When they come, you tell them God’s not in charge anymore. Scream, or run for help and I’ll kill you all. Understood?’

The children nodded, their tiny, malnourished bodies trembling and their cheeks wet with tears and grime. Phineas thrust his hand into the supervisor’s pocket and yanked out a set of keys. He sprinted to the garden gate, unlocked it, and hurried through, before slamming it behind him. He stuffed the keys in his pocket and sprinted past the church building. The warden had his back to Phineas, making it almost too easy. He kept running and ploughed the knife between the warden’s rib cage, into his heart. He twisted it twice, yanked it free, and kept running until he reached the forestry. Beyond the forestry were the societal walls; the final obstacle. Freedom was so close.

After making his way through the forestry, Phineas crouched behind a tree on the outskirts of the other side to plan his next move. The perimeter guard was standing at attention and staring right in his direction. Phineas searched around his feet and located a large rock. He picked it up and backed carefully through the trees until a clear path lay to his left. Phineas threw the rock as hard as he could. It landed with a loud thud on the forest floor a good five metres away from him. The guard drew his rifle and crept into the forestry to investigate the noise. Phineas had already begun circling around to come up behind the guard and he drove the heel of his boot directly into the guard's tailbone. He groaned and fell to the ground in an awkward heap. Phineas grabbed the rifle strap and yanked, flipping the guard onto his back. He straddled the guard’s torso and used both hands to push the rifle down on his windpipe with crushing force. Phineas watched as the guard’s face turned blue. The vein on his temple slowed and inevitably stopped pulsing. Phineas took the guard's rifle and strapped it across himself. A sense of accomplishment washed over Phineas as he ran to the boundary wall. It was almost over.

The vines on the walls had been growing for hundreds of years, making them thick and strong; perfect for Phineas to climb. When he reached the top and began descending the other side, villagers gathered and gawked at the blood-stained, bedraggled boy coming down the wall. This was the place nobody had ever been seen coming out of. One of the villagers evidently phoned the police because no sooner did Phineas reach the bottom, than he was arrested.

During his interview, Phineas learned that life is not meant to be like God’s Haven and that the happenings of his entire life were, in fact, criminal. The detectives promised Phineas that if he cooperated and testified against God's Haven, then they would drop the murder charges for the slayings he had confessed to.

And so, the not-so-mighty God’s Haven fell but the killings had changed Phineas irrevocably. The truth was, he had enjoyed watching the life drain from the men’s eyes that day. For the first time in his life, he'd been the one with all the power in those fleeting moments.

Phineas still fantasised about those murders. He imagined his victims' faces on the corn when he brought his scythe down. This transference and the memories had sustained Phineas' sadistic urges for a long time but the past few days had made him realise the true cost of his freedom. Killing his abusers had awoken a dark force within him; a force that was not willing to slip back into dormancy.

Phineas sat on a rock and twisted his scythe, watching the sunlight glint off it, recalling how it had similarly reflected off his knife that fateful morning. Suddenly, a young, blonde headed boy strolled up and sat beside Phineas.

‘Who are you and what do you think you're doing?’ Phineas asked, annoyed that his murderous ponderings had been interrupted.

The child laughed but there was no humour in his tone. Goosebumps prickled on Phineas' skin in spite of day's heat. ‘I’m your boss’s son, silly. I live in the farmhouse.’

‘No, you don’t,’ Phineas said. ‘They only have a daughter. I know because she reads to me in the house each evening when my shift is over. You aren’t in any of their family photos.’

‘Dammit. Knew I should’ve done my research,’ the strange child muttered. He cleared his throat and addressed Phineas directly again. ‘With darkness as deep as yours, I figured you wouldn’t be a questions man. Thousands of years in this job and you humans still manage to puzzle me.’

The child snapped his fingers and instantly morphed into a grown man dressed in an impeccable black suit and bright red tie. He was oddly beautiful with perfectly sculpted cheekbones, curving flawlessly up into sleeked back, ash-blonde hair. A playful smile was on his face but when Phineas looked into the man's eyes, any beauty vanished. They were as red as his tie; evil and lifeless.

‘I have a proposition for you, Phineas,’ he said. ‘Since you do so enjoy murder, would you consider working for me? The hours are long and the pay is...well...non-existent! But the job’s yours, if you want it.’

‘You...you’re The Devil. Right?’ Phineas stammered.

‘Please. Call me Luke,’ the man said. ‘Lucifer, Morning Star, Satan, The Devil, it’s all too formal. Now. What do you say to my offer?’

‘What’s the catch?’ asked Phineas.

‘Humans…always so untrusting. I’m not the one who abandoned you to sit on a throne in the sky, you know,’ Luke muttered. ‘Well, it’s nothing much really. Just your human life. Normally I’d require your soul. But we both know you gave that up when you slaughtered four people in cold blood without batting an eye. So, human life, it'll have to be.’

Phineas wanted to argue that he had acted out of survival; that it had nothing to do with his soul. He wanted to explain that even law enforcement had excused his actions and allowed him to walk away a free man. Yet in his heart, Phineas knew Luke was right. For the past six years, Phineas had been unable to discern what had shifted within him outside of God’s Haven. It had felt much bigger than the difficulties assimilating into a normal life after enduring a lifetime of abuse. It was an empty, hollow feeling that eased only when he fantasised about re-enacting the murders. Phineas had tried to justify it: They were monsters; less than human; they deserved to die.

But somehow Phineas knew, the pleasure had little to do with who the victims had been, or what they had done. He longed to feel it again, even if that meant taking innocent lives. No human with an in-tact soul would entertain the idea of killing innocents for perverse, personal gratification. Luke was right. Phineas had bought his freedom at the cost of his soul. Now he was being offered an opportunity that might yet make that price worthwhile.

‘Where do I sign?’ Phineas asked.

Luke snapped his fingers and a scroll appeared in his hand. He ceremoniously shook it open and plucked a pen from the breast pocket of his suit. Phineas scrawled his name across the bottom of the scroll and it rolled back up of its own volition. Luke tucked it into his the pocket of his trousers. He snapped the fingers of both hands and Phineas found himself decked in a black, satin, hooded robe.

‘Pick up your scythe, Reaper,’ Luke said.

Phineas bent down and reached out in an attempt to follow Luke's instruction. He gasped—his hand was now skeletal. Phineas looked at his other hand and then yanked his robe up to reveal skeletal feet and legs.

‘You aren’t human anymore, remember?’ Luke said. ‘Now, do as I commanded and pick up your scythe. You’re late for work.’ Luke snapped his fingers a final time and disappeared.

Phineas the Reaper twisted his scythe and watched it glitter in the sunlight. A cruel smile crept across his face of bone and he strolled purposefully up to the farmhouse. It was time for the boss’s daughter to read to him...