Moraina's Life Through Death's Eyes

I passed by, tapping my 'cane' onto the hospital floor like it was to a tune of some sort.

I let the last tap be the loudest, echoing through the hall for only I to hear. The sound was like an overly extravagant way to announce my coming, though it was never welcome. I looked around.  Once again, no one noticed the loud crack the stick made when it came into contact with the LVT flooring.

I looked around the white hallway. I watched some lone people pass by me without saying a word.

How rude.

They were always so focused on something. Their phones, their clipboards, the idea of their next task. They can't just stop and look around. Like me.

I peered into the window to the nursery. A man in scrubs stopped behind me after suddenly shivering.

I glanced at him.

He looked at the air vent in the ceiling and after an aggravated click of his tongue, he walked away.

I gave the nursery my full attention once again.

All the babies were there, sleeping quietly.

I looked at a baby on the smaller side. Her almost bare head of black hair was brushed to the side.

I pictured the big hand of her father rubbing his newborn's head tenderly with tearful eyes.

My sight roved to her name tag.

This was her.

"'Moraina Shepard'." I mumbled. I leaned in nearer to the glass.

I smiled.

"Why aren't you dead yet, little one?"

-

When souls want to leave their bodies, they go to a specific place. Heaven, Hell, stay on the Earthly Plane, or whichever else you prefer.

The souls always leave their bodies. One way or another.

Some on death row refuse to die when it's their time however. That's when I personally come in, even if I do not wish to.

With my mighty scythe, I forcibly cut their souls from their bodies as soon as God gives me the order. You may call me 'The Grim Reaper' or 'Death'.

That baby, Moraina, was supposed to die at her birth, but I let her live. I thought she was too interesting to perish.

She had a strange fighting spirits babies just don't have. They were too young, new, and tired to be stubborn and not die.

That's when I decided to watch over her until she passes away naturally and without my assistance. It was against the rules for me to allow this happen, but I'll watch over her closely so that it doesn't disrupt the balance.

From my realm, I glanced onto the screen which projected a three-year-old stumbling onto the playground. The little girl started to breathe heavier, but still had a huge smile on her chubby face.

Her father swooped her up into his arms. "No Moraina. It's too hot outside. Here, wanna sip?" He asked, offering her his water bottle and returning her to the picnic.

She looked glumly back at the playground once more before taking the bottle.

I ran my finger over my scythe blade then looked back to her.

She laughed as her mother tried to feed her apple slices in the shade. Her six-year-old brother played soccer with his friends. Her father cheered on his son while rubbing his little girl's soft head.