The Grim Reaper ✎

4. DEATH MAKES ME A PROPOSAL

4. DEATH MAKES ME A PROPOSAL

[Written 23/3/18 - 23/3/18]

Unedited

//

"Huh?" 

My mind didn't register Death's words. Not completely, anyways. I knew what he had said, but I didn't know what the words meant. Leap at a chance at redemption?  It sounded like something straight out of a B-grade supernatural movie. I blinked twice to make sure I was awake, then asked, "Um, what'd you mean?"

"I mean exactly what I said, Natalie," I couldn't exactly see his face underneath his shadowy hood, but I was almost - almost - certain that I'd heard him smirk. "I'm offering you a proposition. Have you suddenly become deaf?"

"No," I was too curious to be irritated at the snide remark. "What proposition? And what do you mean by 'leap at a chance at redemption'? Also," I added quickly, as realisation of something else that Death had just said seeped into my slow, slow brain. "What do you mean, 'damned to Hell'?!"

This time, I could definitely hear the smirk in Death's voice as he began swirling his scythe around in a circular motion. Eyeing the swirling metal blade, I scooted my chair backwards a few inches, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. "Oh, Natalie," sighed Death. "Did you really think you'd get into the wonderful palace in the sky with the glimmering pink butterflies and lollipops? Really? Really? I mean," he chuckled, sending shivers down my spine. "You? What did you ever do?"

"What did I do?" Goosebumps had broken out on my skin and my voice shook, but I still felt anger boiling deep down in my stomach at Death's words. "I did a lot of stuff! Okay?! I was a good person! I never hurt anyone or stole or killed." My voice broke and for a second, I felt like a little kid lost in a big, scary supermarket. "I don't deserve to be here, okay? I don't. I don't." Tears began to leak from my eyes. "I'm good."

For the briefest of seconds, I thought I saw Death's cat-like yellow eyes soften. But maybe that was just the tears streaming down my face. I'm going to rot here forever. In Hell. With Hitler, probably. I don't deserve it.

"Maybe you don't, Natalie," commented Death in between the sound of me sobbing. His tone of voice still hadn't changed - cold, stern, and slightly patronising. "And maybe you do. Either way, you're not going up. At least, not now..." His voice trailed off, and something suddenly clicked inside me.

I sniffed loudly and swiped my tears and snot away using my sleeve. "Wait, you said the proposition would redeem me."

"Yep," Death stopped twirling his scythe, and leaned forward on the desk, towards me. "No more sins, sweetheart. You accept, and do this teeny-tiny-itsy-bitsy task for me, you get to go to Paradise!" He looked immensely pleased with himself. "All your wildest dreams come true. Y'know, ponies, money, candy, a talking rainbow-coloured emu - you name it. It's yours. All you gotta do is sign."

Suddenly, a piece of fresh, crisp parchment materialised before me from the shadows, along with a black feather quill. It was shorter than I thought it would be, with only a few foreign letters printed neatly on the page. I didn't recognise them. "But what's the task?" I looked up at Death, heart pounding in my chest. 

"Oh, it's simple. A breeze. I would do it myself, y'know, but unfortunately, I can't leave the lovely underworld," he waved his hand vaguely around. "The big man's rules. That's why I've got the reapers."

"So why don't you get them to do it? The reapers? Martina looks more than capable."

"Martina's a joke," Death deadpanned. "There's a reason why she's got the desk job."

"Okay, but why me?" As the seconds ticked by, I began to grow more and more suspicious of this proposal. "Why didn't you offer this 'simple' job to any of the thousands of damned souls outside? Why me?"

"Do you want to go to Heaven or what?" Death didn't bother to hide the annoyance in his voice. "Because I'm more than happy to throw you down to the ninth pit of Hell."

I could tell that he meant it, but I couldn't stop myself from asking more questions. "So you're not going to tell me about the proposition? Or why you gave it to me?" I stared at him, head high. "How am I supposed to do it, then? How am I supposed to do something I know nothing about?"

"You can do it, Natalie." Death stared straight back at me, yellow eyes glowing. "I can't tell you for a reason - a reason you can't know. But you'll figure it out. Like you said, there's a reason why I chose you." Suddenly, the parchment and the feather quill began to move closer towards me. "Now sign." His eyes were unblinking, unwavering. "It's Heaven or Hell, Natalie. Heaven or Hell."

I looked down at the unreadable parchment and the ebony feather quill. My heart pounded in my chest as I slowly, ever so slowly, picked up the feather pen and pressed it to the parchment. Red ink oozed out of the tip, forming a blot.

It's Heaven or Hell, Natalie. Death's voice echoed inside of me, in every part of me. Heaven or Hell.

I signed. 

//

A/N:

So...I haven't touched this book since last April. It's been eleven months.

Whoops?

In all honestly, though, I got caught up with a lot of stuff. School and my personal life has been insanely hectic and I've found it difficult to find time for writing. Hopefully (hopefully) I can try to work on more consistent updates for The Grim Reaper this year.

QOTC (Question of the Chapter): What do you think Death wants Natalie to do?

Remember to vote and comment if you enjoyed! Thank you so much!