Reaper

The Dark Haired Boy Pisses Me Off

I think when the universe saw how awful Caelum is, it decided to give it one beautiful thing. Earth and life are opposites, so when sun sets on Earth, it rises on Caelum. And Caelum's sun is it's one beauty.

On Earth, the sky turns a sort of baby blue with pink and orange during sunrise. But that beauty is nothing in comparison to Caelum's sun.

First, the stars wink out, leaving an empty black sky, which slowly lightens to a clear blue. It's an interesting shade of blue, that looks somewhat aqua. Then, far of on the horizon, the sun rises, in a burst of brilliant white light. As it rises higher, the center of the sun becomes a glowing silver, and its rays reach out into the aqua turning gold.

It's not the soft, pastel sunrise of Earth, it's a stark, bright sunrise, and I've never seen anything like it.

As I fly, the sun's radiant glow bathes me, turning my arms gold, and my hair silver. I agree with the universe, Caelum deserves one beautiful thing, at least one.

I turn my face from the sky, and focus on the barren world below. This is difficult, for the sky is beautiful, but the land is an ugly gray mass, littered with dead forests and charred cities.

Unlike on Earth, there isn't much green on this planet. Most green things are dead, or almost dead. And if they've somehow managed to survive they are most likely covered in a layer of ash. There's not much water here, either. It's all dried up, leaving gaping holes full of dust. Other than its sky, Caelum is a colorless world. It's a world of death and pain and human suffering.

After a day of reaping, the sun hangs low in the sky. I am about to leave to take the souls to Earth, but there's something drawing me back. Nearby, I sense another dying soul.

It's a mother, amidst giving birth. She lays on the ground of an abandoned home, and is covered in filth and blood. A little girl, her daughter, stands some ways away. I can only see half of her face from where she stands, peeking out from behind a doorway. Her mother is dying, desperately trying to birth her child before she goes. I see the pain on her face, and suddenly have the urge to go and help her.

But I can't. Because if I go to help her, she will be damned to the same life I have. To having to remember Caelum even when she goes to Earth, to having living immortalized for the rest of eternity, to having to reap. For when a dying person sees their angel before they reap them, they become an angel too. And I can't do that to her. So I don't. I stay back, I hold my position, waiting for her to die.

Then, a teenaged boy runs into the building. The woman looks scared of him, and the little girl hides her face behind the door way.

"It's all right," he whispers to her, while kneeling down, "I'm not going to hurt you." She seems to relax a little at his words. I watch, invisible to the both of them, as the dark haired boy does what he can to comfort her. It's not much, but she still hasn't died so it must be helping.

The sun is fully down now, I should have left a while ago, but I can't stop watching this exchange. The woman is screaming and thrashing in pain. The boy has given up on helping her, and has turned his attention to her daughter.

"Your mother is going to be okay," I hear him tell her. I grimace at this blatant lie. But I can't help but to pity the poor girl. Losing someone you love, watching them die, is hard. I should know. And as the boy holds the crying little girl in his arms, is when her mother dies.

The scream of anguish and misery omitted from the girl, who couldn't be more than seven, is possibly the most painful sound I've ever heard. The boy can't hold her, as she squirms out of his grasp, and runs, sobbing, into the next room.

Now the spirit of her dead mother, and the unborn child rise out of the body. I reach my hand out and summon my scythe. I think I'll just try to forget about this whole ordeal, reap her like I'd reap any other soul. Besides, the quicker I do this, the quicker I can leave and move on from it all.

I raise the scythe over my head, about to swing it through both spirits, when I am stopped, by the dark haired boy.

"Now hold on," he says, stepping between me and the spirits, "I'm afraid I can't let you do that."