Tears of the Grim Reaper

Suitcase and Color

The little girl was balanced dangerously on the edge of a building, looking down on the city lights and its residents. The little girl felt nothing; no emotions, no need, nothing. All she did was carry out her job.

The suitcase she carried with her laid flat on the edge, too. It carried everything she needed to carry out her assignments, but nothing that wasn't child proof. At times, she slept on her suitcase, which was longer that her body and wide enough for her to fit.

Time and the Abyss took pity upon her, sometimes, and would have a small home ready for her. Most of the time, they forgot about her and left her to fend for herself. Despite her living conditions, she had nothing to say against them. She felt nothing.

Memory 2
Time and the Abyss adopted her, technically speaking. They tell her she had wandered onto their realm, weak and hungery. So they took her in. The little girl has no memories of such things, but she trusted them. They dressed her in long sleeved shirts, knee length skirts, black shoes, and a black cloak.

Her first solid memory happened on the first day of her assignment. They had given her that white mask, two eyes covered with lace and a small closed mouth. When she spoke, her voice was muffled and hard to understand. Once she put the mask on, her body was suddenly encase in a bright golden light that froze everything around her. It was the power the beings in control of the universe gifted her. She had become the new grim reaper.

The one she was in charge of finding was an old woman who was bedridden and near death. The little girl was to cut the cord of life and deposit the soul into either Hell, Heaven, or Purgatory. That was it.

The home of the old lady was not a house, but a gray building stuffed with elders. The lady had not been fed in three days, as that facility was horrible with its people. Most of them died of mistreatment or neglect, and no one ever complained.

The little girl walking inside, passing through the doors and the walls like a ghost. Her cloak billowed behind her, torn on the edges, and appeared to radiate shadows. The little girl slipped a loose strand of her blonde hair behind her ear, thinking about her new drawing.

As the caretakers passed her, she wondered if she should give the old lady the picture. It was a pretty one, full of different colors and shapes, full of the life she lacked.

When the little girl arrived at the door of the old lady, she decided she would not leave the picture, but instead draw her a new one. She clicked the lock of the suitcase open, her supplies flying out, but instead of falling to the ground, they floated around her. An array of paints, clay, markers, and other art supplies followed her to the end of the dying lady's bed.

The little girl sat beside her and began to paint the new picture. It would be a tiny portrait of a lake and a couple of ducklings. Such adorable beings ducklings were, and such a shame it was that they grew into ducks. That's why the little girl wanted to paint it for the lady before she collected her soul. Something told her to draw that.

The old lady was fast asleep, but was awaken by the faint sound of her brush on the small canvas. The lady's eyelids were heavy, but they flew open when she saw the little girl sitting beside her.

"Who are you?" She whispered feebly. Her life was slowly coming to an end, but there was no fear, only acceptance. After all, the old lady had no one but herself. Her children had thrown her away and be cut all ties wih her. At first, she felt hurt, betrayed, and even cursed them for having done what they did to her. Years later, she only prayed that death would come quickly as she suffered alone and rotted in her own feces. Life has treated horribly.

Back to the present, it was beautiful to see someone other than those cruel caretakers. When the little girl looked up for a second, the old lady felt a cold chill travel down her spine. For some reason, death felt closer than ever.

"I am painting a picture. It is of a lake and lots of ducklings," the little girl answered. Her voice was slightly muffled by her emotionless mask, but one could understand her clearly.

"What for?"

"For you. I will leave it here when you die."

Die. Such a strong word she had been begging to experience for years, and now that the little girl says it, fear began to cloud her acceptance. Suddenly, the old lady wanted nothing more than to continue living, even if it was just for another day.

"There." 

The little girl's voice snapped the old lady out of her thoughts.

"What?" She asked.

"I am done with the painting," the little girl answered. She lifted her mask just below her nose and blew softly on the paint before handing it to the lady. "Does this hold any special meaning?"

The old lady was speechless. The painting appeared professionally done, almost like a photo. The strangest part was that the scene did indeed have a meaning. It was the park where she and her parents once went to, the park where her mother died of  heart attack, the park where her daughter walked her first steps, and also the park where her children traded her in for their freedom. So much pain and joy in one tiny, wonderful painting.

"How did you know?" The old lady rasped, choking back her tears.

"I didn't." The little girl rose from her set and pulled out a small paper mâche box. It had a light shade of yellow, decorated in little black faces of many expressions. Written in solid gold letters was her name, as well as her birth and death date.

Today she would die.

"This will be painless," the little girl assured her.

The old lady shook her head. "No. No no no!" She cried. "I want to see my kids for one last time."

"Really? Then you will see them in the after life, as they all died in a plane crash three years ago on a family trip."

What? the old lady thought.

"You-you're lying!"

"I am not, miss. Now, may I-"

"My children can not be dead! They can't!" She shrieked. "They're still alive!"

The caretakers nearby heard her screams and ran inside, annoyed and ready to beat the lady if she didn't shut up. As soon as the door flew open, the little girl raised her hand and faced her palm towards them. They fell instantly, dead. A white light emerged from them, slithering out of their mouths and floating above their heads like a balloon, attached to them by a faint sliver lining.

The little girl appeared before their corpses and the old lady continued to scream, but in horror.

"She killed them! SHE KILLED THEM!"

The little girl took out a pair of scissors from her suitcase and snipped the last thing that tied the workers to this earth: their souls. Small paper mâche boxes similar to the one designated for the old lady hovered over the long suitcase, and the souls were sucked inside. The little girl took the boxes and swiped her hand on the air, opening a black hole that was connected to the Abyss. She tossed the little boxes inside and swiped the hole closed.

Then, she turned to the old lady, who continued to scream for help. The little girl disliked the screaming as it hurt her sensitive ears.

"Silence," she ordered quietly.

The lady's lips were sealed shut and she couldn't open them.  She trembled violently as the little girl approached her. She raised her hand and sliced the air in front of the lady.

The old lady's body jerked, shaking the entire bed with a powerful force. Her eyes rolled back and she exhaled for one last time. The soul rose from her mouth and the girl cut off the string and collected the soul as she had done with the others.

Before leaving, she fixed the picture so that it laid neatly within the hands of the old lady.

The little girl retired for the rest of the day. Tomorrow, she would collect the soul of an infamous demon slayer. His time was up.