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My Second Life
My Second Life

My Second Life

3 Reviews

I don't remember. I'm just the Grim Reaper. Nothing more, nothing less.
I inhabit the body of a 16-year-old boy. It used to be my body, but not anymore. I guess I still can call it that.
I can't recall my past. The people, the places, the things...nothing. Just darkness. I never question it because I never have to.
I don't eat. I don't sleep. I don't breathe. I don't have a heartbeat.
I didn't ask to be born. I lived out as a human for 16 years, then I died. I don't know how, or when. Once I died, I didn't count the minutes until now.
I know every human has a timer. Tick tock, till their deaths. One second, one minute, one hour, one day, one week, one year...wasted. Humans spend so much time on small stupid things. Like fixing a door hinge, or cutting a paper perfectly straight. Hello, humans! You only have so much time. Why do you spend time on such minor useless things? I never understood that. If I knew I had a limited time, I would try everything before I die. Do daring things. Dangerous things. If they kill me, well, then at least I accomplished something.
Nobody knows Death. Is there a god? Or a God, with a capital letter? Are there valkyries? Angels? Zeus, zapping anyone's butt when they step out of line? Is there Oden, sitting on his throne, staring people down? Osiris, watching you with his pale green-blue skin as your heart is weighed of its pureness?
Many beliefs, one truth.
Nobody knows death.
Yet I'm everybody and nobody. I'm everywhere and nowhere.
I sighed. It was raining and I was in the hometown where I was born and died. The city town of Dalestown. My childhood, my dreams, my parents...forgotten. Gone.
Passing by the cemetery, I pushed the gate open. I cringed at the creak, but then remembered that people couldn't see me. I always forgot that.
Passing through the graves, thunder rolled in the distance. Ignoring the loud boom, I stood in front of a have broken tombstone. It was askew and most of the writing was erased from the water and wind. Neglected, overlooked, ignored.
And that was my tombstone.
Every day, a woman that looked like me came by. She talked to my tombstone, even if the stone indicated that my body was never found. She talked for hours sometimes, and every single time, fat tears rolled down her eyes. She would then place fresh flowers by the tombstone and leave, sobbing.
I don't know who she is.
Lightning cracked above me and the wind picked up the pace. It made my cloak fly in all the directions, but I ignored that and instead focused on the scroll in my hand.
I turned around, heading towards my next victim. I looked down at the scroll again. It said in neat handwriting:

Marie Woodson

I didn't know her personally. I didn't know anybody personally. That was the past, and I have forgotten it long ago.
Jeez, I don't even know how long I've been the Grim Reaper. Time doesn't matter to me.
I looked at the name again on my scroll. Marie Woodson.
A sense of deja vu washed over me. Who was this lady? I had this sense a lot, more and more. Like knowing but not at the same time. Like having the word at the tip of your tongue but you can't say it. Like some part of consciousness knows this particular information, but the rest of your brain clamps a hand over its mouth and prevents it to speak it.
I let out a frustrated groan. Marie Woodson. Who was she?
Whenever there's a soul that needs to be separated from the body, so, in other words, when somebody needs to die, it feels like I have a pointer leading me straight to that person. I know where that person is. Exactly.
As my pointer is indicating right behind me.
I turned around and inhaled sharply by surprise.
It was that lady that came at my grave every day. Marie Woodson. That was her.
She was about to bump into me. I tried to evade and sidestep, but she was way too close.
As if I were a ghost, she went right through me.
Marie Woodson shivered. She felt me. She turned around, and I could tell she was expecting someone.
But I was invisible. Marie looked right and left. Satisfied that she saw no one, she kneeled down by my grave.
Putting fresh flowers, she sat down, her legs crossed. Wrapping her navy blue coat tighter around herself, she sighed.
"Oh, my baby," she said, looking at the grave.
"My baby. Your father is such a pig. He came back last night, drunk, and started throwing a fit. He launched things all over the house. He broke my china. But-but..."
I froze. My grave. My father. I leaned closer. She was talking about my past. I want to know who I used to be.
"But...he tore up a drawing you gave me for Mother's Day when you were nine. And that was the last one. He broke all the pictures I had of you. There's not one proof in the house that you ever existed." Marie Woodson's lower lip quivered and water welled up in her eyes.
Hell, I was getting a bit teared up a bit myself. This was my mom. She bore me. She raised me. She sat through my worst moments. She consoled me through my temper tantrums. She kissed to sleep. She was the one who loved me with all of my heart.
Taking off my hood, I exposed my young face.
"I'm here."
But she couldn't hear me. I cursed up and down to whoever made me the Grim Reaper.
"Mom," I whispered.
She started sobbing. "Oh...Cade. Life is so hard." Marie's voice cracked between her tears.
My name.
I inhaled slowly. One tear welled up in my eye and rolled down my cheek.
Surprised, I put my hand and wiped off the tear. I didn't know I could cry.
Looking at the small amount of salt water on my finger, I frowned. Grim Reapers don't cry.
As if I jinxed it, the tear burst into ashes.
It made my heart ache. Another reminder that I couldn't even remotely reach my mom.
I looked back at Marie Woodson-no. Mom.
"Cade...Your father...your father...hit me." She shook her head. "He was drunk. You used to protect me. And I loved you for that."
As if a dagger plunged into my chest, the pain settled at the bottom of my stomach. She said loved.
Past tense.
"But now that you're gone, he hits me whenever he wishes." Mom rubbed her arms, keeping out the chills. "Life is hard, my baby. I miss you every day. You were such a good boy. Honest, sweet. I will never forget you."
"Mom." I tried again, my voice cracked.
But I know she couldn't hear me.
My mother shook her head and patted my tombstone. Her hand lingered on the stone as if touching the tombstone would bring her closer to me.
But I was so close.
But she didn't know. She would never know.
She leaned over and re-adjusted her fresh flowers.
"I'm sorry for not being there. I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I-I...I failed you."
She sighed again and said, "My Cade, I will see you soon."
I looked at my scroll and gulped. I couldn't fail as the Grim Reaper. Clenching my fists, I pulled my hood up again.
"Yes, Mom. You will see me very soon."
Raising my scythe, I lowered it quickly.
My mother screamed and thunder cracked in the distance, covering her terrified shriek.

"Cade was such a good boy, and today his mother joins him. She passed away a few days ago, right by Cade's grave. She was a brave soul..."
I zoned out at the funeral. All I could see is my mother is her casket. Dead.
And I killed her.
More ash tears fell, and I couldn't stop. I leaned on my scythe, suddenly feeling weak for the first time.
I killed my mother. I'm the reason she's dead. She's gone. Like me.
When they lowered her into the ground, I noticed that her grave is right next to mine. I let myself have a small smile plastered on my face.
I turned around and walked away without anybody noticing. Of course, I'm unseen. Death comes fast. Unexpected. Out of the blue. Death comes for everybody. I come for everybody.
I walked away to my next victim. The next person. The next soul to collect.
The next person that will join my mother and I. And So many others.

Author Notes: Mr. Reaper here is my bestie.
Naw, just kidding.
Anyway, I'm sorry I haven't been posting lately. Been busy doing stuff and writing this story. Thank ya for reading and see ya around!

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About This Story
24 Apr, 2019
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7 mins
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5.0 (3 reviews)

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