The Grim Reaper ✎

3. DEATH IS NOT A BELIEBER

3. DEATH IS NOT A BELIEBER

[Written 3/4/17 - 5/4/17]

Unedited

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I stood staring with my mouth agape at the figure in front of me, with thoughts whizzing through my head a thousand miles per hour and my heart at a standstill. I knew that in death, I had to expect the unexpected, but this was a little too much. 

Why, oh why, did I have to be face to face with Death?

Because that was obviously who the guy was. The guy sitting sprawled in a silver chair, wearing an ebony-black cloak that was literally weaved out of shadows, twirling a glimmering metal scythe in one of his hands. His hood hid his face, but as he sat up straighter to look at me, I caught a glance of a pair of yellow-ish eyes. 

And that was what snapped me out of my stupor.

Whirling around, I practically leapt for the door, adrenaline suddenly coursing through my veins and my heartbeat thudding in my ear. However, before I even got close, the metallic door swung shut with a bang. I skidded to a stop to prevent myself from slamming into it, then grabbed the handle and gave it a vicious twist. A sharp jolt of pain shot up my hand and I let out a shriek, leaping backwards. A thin wisp of smoke emitted from the door's handle, leading me to look down at my hand - only to see a streak of burning red seared on my skin. 

"Natalie."

He said my name.

I didn't want to look back. Looking back meant that I'd have to face it - face Death - and there was no turning back. Looking at the door gave me a sense of escape, a sense of surreality, as if what I was experiencing didn't have to be real. Still, no one in their right mind would mess with freakin' Death himself, so I turned around.

He was staring as me - or at least, he seemed to be. His hood obscured most of his face, and all I could see were those glimmering pairs of yellow irises. He'd stopped twirling the scythe, but he still had a firm grip on it, and that shiny curved blade made me shiver.

Oddly enough, I suddenly began to miss the company of Bubblegum Girl. I could really use her peppiness right now.

With one shadowy, smoky hand, he gestured to the silver chair opposite him. "Sit."

I began to shake my head, but then remembered that doing so would be the epitome of a bad idea and transitioned my head shake smoothly into a nod. Crossing my arms, I inched forward slowly, inwardly wondering if the ceiling was about to rain fire or something, until I'm pretty sure Death rolled his eyes and flicked his wrist. Before I knew it, I found myself sitting on the silver chair, with Death opposite me. I didn't even have the time to scream or anything. I felt rather violated. 

"Could you not do that again please?" I muttered, wriggling in my seat. I saw Death jerk up his head - or rather, his hood - in surprise. "What?" I raised an eyebrow, "I used the magic word."

He leaned forward, "I'm pretty sure I didn't hear you say 'Abracadabra', sweetheart."

For some reason, I made a face. "Ew."

Now he just looked amused. I have no idea how that was possible, though, because I still haven't seen his face. He just sort of radiated amusement. "What's so disgusting?"

"You. Calling me 'sweetheart'," I shuddered. "Creepy."

Death sighed, then began to twirl his gleaming scythe once more. Instinctively, I leaned back against the back of my chair, trying to keep as far away from the blade as possible. I'd already died once and I didn't need to do it again, thanks very much. "You humans. You're so...oh, what's the word? That's right: annoying."