Short Stories

The Job

Do you know what it's like to never be able to touch somebody?
Alright, that sounds weird. I mean like casually. Accidentally brushing against somebody's shoulder while walking past them. Hugging someone. Holding somebody's hand. Well, I'll never be able to do that. Because every time I brush against somebody's bare skin....... I kill them.
It's not only with people. Plants, animals... If I touch anything living, it dies. Shrivels up, goes cold, and just drops dead. But hey, it comes in handy. Especially because it's my job.
    Yes, you heard that right. And it's not only me, either. They call us Reapers. All of us were born this way, born to collect people's lives and souls. We're the reason that people die in their sleep. We are the ones that cause fatal heart attacks, or strokes. We're the ones standing next to the hospital bed when somebody's heartbeat is weak and it's time for them to go. And all it takes is a little brush of our skin against theirs.
     Like I said, it's our job. We keep the balance between life and death. And once someone dies, the Angels come to take their souls to..... Wherever it is they take them.
    The Angels don't like us very much. In fact, they despise us. Think we're the 'spawn of satan' or whatever. Really that's not true. I don't even know if there is a devil. The leader of all the reapers is the Grim. The one classified as the best of us. The most experienced.
     Anyways, back to the topic of Angels. The Angels don't like us. And we don't like them. Or at least, we aren't supposed to. Most of us think of them as the 'teachers pets' or the 'goody-two-shoes' of the Afterlife. They're just so.... Perfect. There's no other way to describe them. Perfect skin, hair, bodies, and they can be so sweet and kind that it can give you cavities.
    I guess I do sort of dislike them. But not as much as everyone else. I find them more.... Fascinating, I suppose. It's a constant competition between us and them. And we're always the losers. I mean, we kill anything we touch. How's that supposed to compete with perfection?
     With a sigh, I gently brush my hand against the cheek of the eight year old boy in front of me. Poor kid. Diagnosed with Cancer when he was five. And tonight's his night to go. I glance up at the heart monitor as it flatlines, and draw my hand back into my cloak. His mother, who had been sleeping in an armchair in the corner, wakes up slowly, confused, then realizes what's happening and starts to panic. Two nurses burst through the door and start fussing around the boy's body while the mother burst into tears by his bedside. A familiar scene. One I've seen before, and one that I will see again.
    "Mommy?" I blink and turn around to see the boy, staring at his mother. "Mommy, why are you crying?" He attempts to tug at her shirt, but his hands just go through her. He stares at them, slight panic rising on his face. I sigh and pick him up, bringing him away from all the commotion.
    Some souls realize that they're dead. Most of the time, it's older people, ones that have been expecting death for a while. But this boy is going to need to ease into it. His Angel better get here soon, or he'll probably freak out on me.
    "Sorry kid. She can't hear you." I look down at him. He stares up at me, fear flitting across his face as he tries to make out my face, which is hidden deep within the darkness of my hood.
   "W-who are you? Put me down! Put me down! Stranger danger! Mommy!" He screeches and starts trying wiggle out of my grip. I sigh and hold him tighter.
   "I told you, she can't hear you." A flash of light appears by the window and an Angel appears, ruffling his wings. Yup. Beautiful brown hair, clear blue eyes, slightly tanned, perfect skin. He glances over at me and narrows his eyes.
    "Get your claws off the child, Reaper. You did your job, now let me do mine." I set the kid down on the floor, rolling my eyes. Not that he would have been able to see them anyways. The kid looks up at the Angel in awe.
   "Who are you?" He slowly drifts towards the natural light that the Angel gives off. I fold my arms and sit down in the chair that the mother had previously occupied. I'm supposed to stick around until I've made sure the soul has gone safely with their Angel.
    The Angel picks up the boy, smiling at him. "I'm an angel. I've come to take you to heaven." The boy blinks up at him, eyes wide.
    "Heaven? Can Mommy come too?" He tilts his head, looking back towards his mother, who is still a sobbing mess. Underneath my Cloak, I pull my long silk gloves on, just in case I accidentally brush against somebody who isn't supposed to die today.
    "No. I'm afraid not. It isn't her time yet." He glances at me over the boy's shoulder. "Now come. They're waiting for us up there." He smiles at the boy and they disappear in another flash of light.
   I grumble and stand up, stretching. "It's about time." I yawn and wave my right hand, a Scythe appearing in midair. I take hold of it, twirling it once, before slashing it through the air, ripping a portal between this world and the underworld. I step through and the portal closes behind me. With another wave of the hand, the scythe disappears.
    Another job well done, I suppose.
   

I hate my job.