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The Reaper

When did everything start to go wrong?

By Aerin TaylorPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
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The Reaper
Photo by Fabio Jock on Unsplash

She did it to herself. She ruined her own life. When did it start? When did everything start to go wrong?

Was it when she moved out of her parent's house into the big city with aspirations of starting her own shop?

Was it when she met eyes with the freckled girl across the crowded room in the bar?

What was the exact moment that led her to this point? Maybe it was a combination of things that spiraled into the colossal mess that was her death?

I guess it doesn’t matter now. Now, that crimson liquid stained the pavement and scarred the eyes of the innocent passersby.

“Is that me?” asked her horrified soul watching the scene play out as if it were a movie and not her own life fading away.

“Yes.”

“Oh god… am I dead? Are you here to collect my soul?”

“Yes and yes,” I reluctantly mumble scribbling into my small black notebook. There’s nothing new. It’s always the same questions with the dead. “We have to go now,” I raised my fingers to take her to her final destination.

“No! I can’t leave yet! This isn’t fair. This isn’t right. I was murdered. My money was stolen!” Her hair was light brown, different from the dark color that soaked in the strands on her corpse.

I crossed my arms listening to her explain why she was preventing me from doing my job. Little does she know that I’m just doing my job. This isn’t personal. This is just routine. “Your money didn’t get stolen. You stole the money and they took it back.”

“N-no! That’s not how it happened!”

A long sigh drew from my body as I approached her slowly and she took steps back. I didn’t resent her for her fear; the presence of a reaper is daunting to any mortal. “Listen… I know everything about your life: your name, your age, where you grew up, your parents, your first word, everything, and most importantly the choices that you made to get you where you are now.” The brunette was stunned silent. “Or did you forget? Did you forget making a deal with the girl from the bar?”

“I trusted her.”

“Trust is fragile.”

“She made me a promise!”

“Promises are meant to be broken.”

Her fists balled angrily in her lavender sweater paws, “I put everything I had into my dream. Everything.”

“Including your life.”

She ignored me to continue, “The agreement was that I help her make paintings and she would pay me enough to start my shop… I knew it was wrong, but I was so excited and the money was good. I just needed a little more and I was going to quit.”

“But, she didn’t like that.”

“She refused to pay the remaining 20 grand for my services so logically I took it.”

“You stole it.”

“It belonged to me! She made a promise and she made more than enough selling the counterfeit art I created. I endured so much just to build the shop of my dreams. I didn’t deserve to die like this.”

“It was the path you chose.”

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“No one asks for death. Death is an unwelcome guest and it is inevitable.” I watched the emotions process through her: the denial, the realization, the fear. “You struggled a lot, but it’s all over now. You did well and although counterfeit… a piece of you lives on in your artworks.”

She laughed dishearteningly, “Then… this really is the end? I guess my parents were right. I should’ve listened and stayed there. I shouldn’t have started the stupid counterfeit gig when I met the freckled-faced monster and I really shouldn’t have stolen the money.” She looked up at me with tears dancing across her eyelashes and a small smile on her face, “I guess I really am dead huh...”

“Yes.” The smile is rare. The smile is an acknowledgment, acceptance if you will, of the end of your once difficult, yet beautiful life. It’s the moment right after you relive your entire life in seconds and it’s bittersweet. “Are you ready?”

She nodded. They never were ready, but then again they never knew what was coming next so they never would be. I snapped my fingers and she disappeared. I slid the black notebook back into my dark cloak. For me, this is just another day on the job. For her, it was the conclusion of her life. In her next life may she make better choices and live happily.

humanity
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About the Creator

Aerin Taylor

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