Short Stories Volume 1

"Everyone's A Reaper"

There are many stories, tales, legends or whatever you wanna call it about death. However only one of them is true. Death is a grim reaper. Or at least he was. Granted we don't know if he actually has a skull for a face, the long black cloak or that huge scythe. But when your time is up, he comes to kill and collect you. It was simple, easy and orderly.

At least that's how it used to be. For a while, people stopped dying. There were no news reports on how many died during a wicked storm or anything of the sort. There were no deaths at all. Then people started getting marks on their arm. A straight line on their forearm that looked like a tattoo with red ink. People in hospitals, work and schools were getting them. Of all ages.

We ignored it at first but over the course of a few weeks we started getting these urges every time we saw anyone with the red mark. Urges that we would normally never have but no less deadly. I would greet my neighbor every morning on my way to school. It was a routine and it was nice. But once I saw that red mark on his arm, all of a sudden my thoughts weren't so nice. As I would greet him and chat about mundane things all I could think about was using those hedge clippers and stabbing him with it. Or hitting him over the head with the shovel he uses to plant his flower bushes.

At first it scared me so much that I just started avoiding him altogether. After a while it stopped scarring me but started to agitate me. One day I came home and I saw his wife dragging a huge bag out of their front door. I asked her if she needed any help to which she gladly welcomed. Even with the two of us it was still quite heavy. I lost my grip on the bag and it ended up being ripped open. Inside of it... my old neighbor. I didn't think anything of it. I felt no sadness, pain, shock or anything. Neither did she. Instead we just got another bag and wrapped him again then threw him in the trash.

No police showed up or anything. It was normal. Eventually everyone who had a red mark was being killed. And it was fine. Once we killed them the urge and bad thoughts were gone.

So that's how it went. Anytime we saw someone with a red mark we killed them on sight. It didn't matter who it was anymore. Or even the age. We just had to do it. Like we were compelled. Sometimes it was weird cause like you can be in the middle of a meeting and all of a sudden your coworker gets the mark and you have to pause the meeting to kill them. I can only imagine what it was like if you were in school.

It started getting challenging because some of the red marks started running. Heck some of them even fought back. They also started grouping together and trying to hide. But the urge started getting stronger so even if we couldn't see a mark we could still feel it nearby.

Which was interesting because we'd go crazy looking for it. Almost like a blood hound. Or a really intense game of hide and seek. We weren't hostile with each other. It was like we knew to not to hurt each other. In fact if we couldn't find a mark within ten minutes we all exposed our arms to eliminate any suspects.

Tonight I think might the longest hunt we've had. We've been looking for three hours for the red mark. I'm close to pulling my own hair out at this point. I didn't really give up but I went back home to try and clear my head and think of a game plan to find them. Only upon returning my urges go into overdrive. The red mark is in my house and it's my sister. As make my way over to her I feel a warm sensation go down my arm.

Looking down my head tilts to the side as I see a red streak forming. Once it's done, my urges go away. All gone, I no longer want to hurt and kill my sister. It's like they were never there to begin with.

"I came here because I didn't want to die by anyone else's hands. And since you don't have the urge anymore, what say we get out of here sis?" A smile slowly growing on her face.

I eagerly nod my head and make my way upstairs to grab a few clothes and my weapons. As I'm packing a wave of fear and panic wash over me. Hurrying I run back down to my sister and see her scared as well. Looking outside we see a crowd gathering. One glance at their rolled up sleeves tells us they're here for us. And all sides of the house are surrounded.

Plan B. I open my bag and hand my sister a gun. I go to my cabinet that has the rest of them and load up. So does she. We hear them breaking in and get ready.

For ten years I've had the urge and hunted down the red marks. I was really good at it. And I grew to love when they fought back. My sister came to me so that I may be her reaper. Now I'm on the other end and I wonder who mine will be.