Stenbrough Nights

|Shot 99| • The Grim Reaping •

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STAN

If you were given the power to stop people from dying, would you?

Like most people, you'd probably say yes without a second thought. But the truth is, even though we hate it, people have to die. Death is inevitable, and everyone is on a timer.

And guess who's job it is to cash in on those timers?

Not that I chose it. When death took me a long time ago, he passed the ring onto me. Now I'm responsible for collecting people's souls and passing them onto the afterlife. I try not to think about them...all the souls I've carried over...

Maybe some deserve it, maybe some don't...but I can't afford to judge. I touch them, I take their soul, and they spend their last moment on Earth asking "why?"

At this point, I've gotten used to it, all the lists, all the souls, the questions.

And on every job, I bring a reaper with me. They kind of handle the whole "after death" package. So far, my favorite is Beverly. Of all the reapers, she seems to share my ideals most.

Believe it or not, some of the reapers like their job. They never step out of line, but they enjoy taking and carrying over souls a little...too much.

Beverly seems to be the only one that not only wishes she were human but wishes she didn't have to take any souls.

Most of the jobs are people who were too sick or old, which somehow makes it less depressing and our job a little easier, as harsh as that sounds. But it's always harder when they're younger and have so many loved ones. That's when spending time with Beverly is best. She knows exactly how I feel.

The worst job so far was when I had to take a little girl that had been kidnapped. Her father never even got closure at least. I almost took the ring off.

"I can't do it anymore, Bev. I can't"

The girl lay right in front of me, her beautiful little eyes closed.

She had a pink coat with flowers on, and purple pants with violet shoes to match. Something so innocent should be laying in bed with her parents, a night light on to protect her, and a warm blanket over her. Not like this, not in a field surrounded by highway trash and weeds.

A tear rolled down my cheek.

"Please, Bevvie, I can't" I begged.

"I'm sorry, Stanley. It's not up to me just as much as it isn't your choice. I'd do anything to get you out of this...but I can't"

I nodded and wiped my face. I bent down and held her hand.

"I'm sorry" I whispered. "I'm so sorry"

"Why, mister?" she mumbled.

I turned around. She stood staring at her small body with ghostly tears streaming down her rosy cheeks.

"I wish I knew" I said.

"What about my parents? Won't they miss me? I have to tell them I'm sorry, that I love them"