If I Told You I Could Be The End Of You

Log #01:

One thing I learned in life is that Death and Pink don't match. It was always black and the darker part of the color spectrum. Death was more of a hundred shades of gloomy grey. And being the only person in the house of a family of Death lovers who wears pretty pastels and floral patterned dresses, I was like a sore thumb.

Our house is all black with the occasional grey and white, but when I was old enough I painted my room baby blue and saved up my allowance for pink bed sheets.
My family calls this my rebellious phase, but I beg to differ.

After a tiring day of work at the coffee shop; I removed my makeup, washed my face and placed on facial mask. I removed my wig too. This month my hair is pretty and blond. But that's when I'm on the outside; in the house, as much as I dislike it, my hair is pure black. Just like this house, my parent's fashion. Even their toilet and sink are black!

I dropped myself on my bed, my safe space, my pretty safe space. I closed my eyes and sighed as I felt the cold and nourishing effects of the mask.

Slowly and surely I was flying off to sleep when my phone's alarm went off. My eyes shot open and I hit that snooze button. With sleepy eyes, I was staring at my Many Direction poster above my bed. I was still sad about Mayn Zalik's separation from the band, but he's still my favorite guy.

The alarm rang again. Well, it's time.

With the tiny key that I have on my dresser I opened one of the shelves of my closet and began writing on my... "diary". I sat back on my bed and crossed my legs.

Some girls start their diaries with "Dear Diary", well I do that too in every page but I write something like:

Log #137:
Jacob Greene, Age: 32, Cause of Death: Too much sugar. Time of Death: Three months, two weeks, four days, seven hours. Place of Death: Living Room or Kitchen or at McDonald's. Probability: 60% something

in my handy dandy pink bedazzled notebook with a pink Hello Kitty pen. Another log, another person that I know how he's gonna die.

I write ten more names to the list.

"Now to put on some doodles and hearts on the side of my notes, a little smiley here and a cute sun aaaand done. Perfect."

Putting the happy in death is my motto.

Well I know that's weird but, if you could see a person's death just by touching them, you have to have some way of coping, right?

Being bright and sunny is my way.

The reason why I have these "powers" is because of my family. We are people who have a grim reaper's blood.

Grim reapers aren't actually those floating black drapes with a scythe. They actually look human and act human, they're not wispy things. More like the supernatural stuff you see on TV, like wolves and vampires. They were tasked long ago to assist normal human souls to The Resting Place, they can see how people die by touching them but they only come out when the sun is out. They don't really die or vaporize like a vampire would, but I heard it hurts like a bad sunburn. Grim Reapers are assigned in different cities in the world, and as to what I know my family is the only one in Amavara City.

We help the grim reapers in touching people during the day to know when they die so they could help them move on when they do. We created this system and things have been easy for the reapers in this area, but those foreign to our methods and stick to the rules of the old, well, let's say they are a little bit against it.

A soul should be assisted or it could be corrupted, causing sicknesses, accidents, and it's really tough to exorcise them.
The only thing pop culture got right is their love of black. And my family loves to shove that awful fashion sense to everyone who's a part of this clan.

The problem is I like pink and flowers and rainbows. I'm the problem child and I'm the "black sheep" here.
My parents would want more of a daughter like themselves, dark, sinister, gloomy, something out of a Kim Nurton movie, just like my brothers. But I really can't handle all that. As cliché as it is I wanna be happy and having a death vision every time I shake hands with someone, make new friends, I see them dying.

And the hardest part? I can't do anything about it.

As a death seer, we cannot interfere with the death visions. We write them down on our journals, kinda like from that movie "Death Memopad". The names written here die, but it's not the notebook that's killing them, it's Fate. A grim reaper is assigned to us so they can keep track of their jobs.

"Gen, your notebook please."

Thaddeus Hemlock. A grim reaper. The light of my life. He's so bright he makes my eyes roll.

"Teddy!" I smiled at him brightly as he entered in my room without knocking. Again.

"Princess, notebook. It's sundown. As I remember there was one or two scheduled today."

Going down from my bed and walking to the door with my bunny slippers, I hand him my notebook.

"Okay, cranky pants. But first lift your frown upside down!"

I messed up his hair, took off his glasses and grabbed his cheeks and pulled his perpetually frowning face to a horrible but passable smile smile.

"There you go!"

"Goddammit Gen, I really feel embarrassed bringing around your notebook to my work."

He grabbed his phone and took pictures of the pages he needed, closed it and notebook-chopped my head with it.

"Next time, try to learn and internalize the meaning of "organization" and try to refrain from writing unnecessary...marks."

"I know you love it, Teddy."

"Stop. I don't. Good bye."

Shutting the door behind him, I went back to my bed. I covered my face with a pillow so that no one would hear me cry tonight.

I should be used to it by now, but I still get emotional over a death of a friend.

There's nothing I can do about it.
And I wish there was.

Log #10:
Jennifer Trudy. Age: 17. Cause of Death: <covered with a sticker> Time of Death: Four years, three months, one week, two hours from now. Place of Death: some dark alley near school. Probability: <covered with a sticker>