There is too much of me, of death, in the world. It’s an ever-turning wheel of misery and grief. My job is a sad one, but someone has to do it. The sprites I have as helpers, they try their best, but . . . it isn’t enough. Most of the work lands on my shoulders. I don’t fault people or deities for wanting to stay away. However, I do believe many don’t understand my job. I do not interfere with events. I cannot interfere. I am simply the collector. That is a more fitting name for me than others that I have been given. Death, Soul Reaper, Grim Reaper. Those last two always confused me, specifically the word 'reaper'. Perhaps that word is why many envision me with a scythe. However, like I stated, I don’t interfere. I do not reap souls. I collect them. That is my job, no matter how grim and dark.
I see and collect everything and everyone that dies. Plants, animals, people. Everything. People and animals are always the most devastating deaths to oversee. Plants die every day, as do people, but it’s not the same. Plants dying are always more . . . beautiful in a way. It’s like a shadow. The plant dies or wilts, but they leave behind their souls. All souls glow blue ever so slightly. Blue and faintly translucent. For plants, they stay where the plant died, but look how it did before passing. Standing proudly behind the dead plant. Then it is just a matter of uprooting it and bringing it to the soul realm.
Some spirits come to me willingly. Some resist, wanting to stay to make sure that those they leave behind will be okay, or they don’t want to move on. I met the soul of a middle-aged woman once. When I arrived, she walked over to me. Upon questioning her, she said that her family would be fine, that she had been dying from a terminal illness. Her family had known she would be dying soon. Everyone had come to terms with it. Another soul didn’t want to come to me. It was the spirit of a little boy. He couldn’t have been older than 10. He had been hit by a car when crossing the road after school. His mom was across the street waiting for him. She was crying inconsolably. Begging him to return to her. He wanted to go back, say goodbye, comfort her, tell her it would be alright. I allowed him to go back briefly, to give her peace. Afterwards, he thanked me profusely and went to play with a kitten’s ghost in a field of flower souls.
Animal deaths are hard. Luckily, most of the animals I collect die from old age and welcome my embrace like one would that of a loved relative. However, there are still those that die from neglect or animal testing or kill shelters or people being cruel. I came upon a puppy chained up outside a house once. The poor thing was skinny from being starved and dehydrated. It had cuts from the chain around its neck, infected from lack of treatment. I found him in the dead of winter, surrounded by snow. I talked to him for a few minutes before his body gave up. His owner rarely fed him and barely let him into the house. Despite all this, the puppy still had hope that his owner would let him in soon. It wasn’t until I took him that he realized he would never be allowed in by the one who was supposed to love him. There was another animal soul I was to collect. One of my little sprites had alerted me to its existence. It was a stray cat that wandered the city streets. I followed it for a while before settling next to it on the sidewalk against the side of a building. To my utter joy, an old man found the cat and brought it home with him. After listening for a while, I realized that this man fed the cat occasionally. When he didn’t see the cat, he went to look. He took it to a vet and adopted it after. I left feeling a rare moment of pleasure knowing I didn’t have to return to the realm with another spirit.
I have glimpsed people grieving their lost ones. I’ve seen people angry and people torn apart with grief. I’ve seen people in denial and people who bury it away. And the people who become numb and shut off. Those always get to me because that family has lost two people instead of one.
So as you can see, my job is not the most pleasant. Don’t you understand? I see the ups and downs and everything in between. I have seen people old and young die in every way imaginable: suicide, car accidents, sickness, old age, murder. I see all the death, but I am stuck, subjected to being a bystander. I am the dutiful guide for each spirit that must join me in the realm of the dead. I do all I can to make the transition easier. I am not something to fear. Never fear me. Death is not the end. It is a continuation of your life. So come with me. Come, keep living.
The child looked up and, with some hesitation, grasped the bony hand.
I see and collect everything and everyone that dies. Plants, animals, people. Everything. People and animals are always the most devastating deaths to oversee. Plants die every day, as do people, but it’s not the same. Plants dying are always more . . . beautiful in a way. It’s like a shadow. The plant dies or wilts, but they leave behind their souls. All souls glow blue ever so slightly. Blue and faintly translucent. For plants, they stay where the plant died, but look how it did before passing. Standing proudly behind the dead plant. Then it is just a matter of uprooting it and bringing it to the soul realm.
Some spirits come to me willingly. Some resist, wanting to stay to make sure that those they leave behind will be okay, or they don’t want to move on. I met the soul of a middle-aged woman once. When I arrived, she walked over to me. Upon questioning her, she said that her family would be fine, that she had been dying from a terminal illness. Her family had known she would be dying soon. Everyone had come to terms with it. Another soul didn’t want to come to me. It was the spirit of a little boy. He couldn’t have been older than 10. He had been hit by a car when crossing the road after school. His mom was across the street waiting for him. She was crying inconsolably. Begging him to return to her. He wanted to go back, say goodbye, comfort her, tell her it would be alright. I allowed him to go back briefly, to give her peace. Afterwards, he thanked me profusely and went to play with a kitten’s ghost in a field of flower souls.
Animal deaths are hard. Luckily, most of the animals I collect die from old age and welcome my embrace like one would that of a loved relative. However, there are still those that die from neglect or animal testing or kill shelters or people being cruel. I came upon a puppy chained up outside a house once. The poor thing was skinny from being starved and dehydrated. It had cuts from the chain around its neck, infected from lack of treatment. I found him in the dead of winter, surrounded by snow. I talked to him for a few minutes before his body gave up. His owner rarely fed him and barely let him into the house. Despite all this, the puppy still had hope that his owner would let him in soon. It wasn’t until I took him that he realized he would never be allowed in by the one who was supposed to love him. There was another animal soul I was to collect. One of my little sprites had alerted me to its existence. It was a stray cat that wandered the city streets. I followed it for a while before settling next to it on the sidewalk against the side of a building. To my utter joy, an old man found the cat and brought it home with him. After listening for a while, I realized that this man fed the cat occasionally. When he didn’t see the cat, he went to look. He took it to a vet and adopted it after. I left feeling a rare moment of pleasure knowing I didn’t have to return to the realm with another spirit.
I have glimpsed people grieving their lost ones. I’ve seen people angry and people torn apart with grief. I’ve seen people in denial and people who bury it away. And the people who become numb and shut off. Those always get to me because that family has lost two people instead of one.
So as you can see, my job is not the most pleasant. Don’t you understand? I see the ups and downs and everything in between. I have seen people old and young die in every way imaginable: suicide, car accidents, sickness, old age, murder. I see all the death, but I am stuck, subjected to being a bystander. I am the dutiful guide for each spirit that must join me in the realm of the dead. I do all I can to make the transition easier. I am not something to fear. Never fear me. Death is not the end. It is a continuation of your life. So come with me. Come, keep living.
The child looked up and, with some hesitation, grasped the bony hand.