Wilting Flowers

36: The Dinner at the End of Your Life

Tw: Substance Abuse/Alcoholism/Self Harm/Suicide/Death

Viewer Discretion Advised

~~~

Closure.

Immy opened her eyes. She didn't see Grim anymore. She didn't see anything, at first.

It almost looked like the void. She knew it couldn't be. Something was...off.

She took a deep breath. She didn't imagine this. This can't be it, She thought. No, no, no—I can think. I can breathe. I feel—

She looked down to see that she wasn't alone in the dark. She was sitting on a chair, on a porch. Looking back up, there was more porch where there wasn't before.

Trying not to let herself freak out, she stood and turned around. She saw the front of the house. It almost looked like her and Grim's, but something was different in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on. She turned back and looked out at the void, vast and empty, and then looked back to the door.

Maybe she was meant to go in. It just scared her to think of how unknown what was inside was to her. But she couldn't go into the void, something was deterring her.

Looking back at the house, the door swung open, revealing a tall man in the darkness. When he stepped out into the porch light, Immy thought she might've passed out.

"I—Mr. Skeleton?"

Mortuus smiled. "That's the one," He chuckled, gesturing her inside. "Come in, come in—we've been expecting you, Immalyn."

Immy felt like he could trust him. Death couldn't be that scary, especially if it was an eternity inside of a little house.

But if it's just the people who were reaped, won't it mostly be serial killers, and war criminals, and rapists—

"Don't worry," Mortuus insisted. "They're all pretty friendly, since they're only the reapings you know about."

She didn't ask how he knew what she was feeling, but she really didn't know of many reapings outside of large scandals and unfortunate incidents.

She stepped inside and was relieved by how warm and comforting the air was. She deeply inhaled, catching scents of cinnamon and apple.

"Is that apple pie?" She asked, grinning. "Who's making that?"

"It is," Mortuus answered, shutting the door behind him. "And she really wants to introduce herself."

Right on cue, a plump woman with dark curls who looked barely older than her ran into the hallway from a doorway, sliding in her socks on the hardwood floors. Her face lit up upon seeing Immy.

"You must be Immalyn!" She beamed, her cheeks flushing. "I'm May."

"May, huh?" Immy tilted her head. "Where do I know you from?"

"Mazel Faber," Mortuus clarified. "Tenebris's first victim."

"Lover," May replied, rolling her eyes like she had said the words millions of times before. "We were lovers, Mortuus. What if I called you your son's victim instead of his father? You wouldn't like it either."

"Just clarifying," Mortuus defended, putting his hands up. "Grim told her you were 'best friends.'"

"His definition of 'best friend' is close to being lovers, anyway."