Deadly Games

Oliver finally worked up the courage and walked outside towards the stranger. He’d been observing him from behind the curtain for fifteen minutes now, wondering why the man stood there. Was he one of those creeps mom warned him about?

“If you’re one of those creeps, you’d better scram, mister,” Oliver said to the stranger at the edge of their lawn. “Or I’ll get my dad.”

The man was tall and slender, long black hair covered the side of his narrow face, revealing only a small nose and thin lips. Those lips curved in a smile.

“I’m no creep,” the man said, his voice soft and calm. “I am Death.”

Oliver cocked his head, the ginger curls of hair falling on his frowning brow. He was six years old and he knew what Death looked like.

“You’re lying,” he said. “Where’s your scythe? And why don’t you wear a black hood? Besides, you have a face. Death has no face, he is all bone.”

The man laughed softly, making Oliver feel uncomfortable. This wasn’t the first time he had seen this man, though it was the first time he spoke to him.

“We live in modern times, Oliver. One has to dress properly.”

Oliver’s jaw tensed, but he tried not to show fear. “How do you know my name, stranger?”

“I am Death. I know everyone’s name. Including your mommy and dady. And as for my face…” 

He gently pushed aside the hair covering his right cheek and revealed a scar so nasty that made Oliver wince. The tissue was all red and dark, exposing white teeth underneath!

So he is Death, Oliver thought and panicked. He ran straight back into the house, calling for his mom and dad. His father was in the middle of cleaning the dishes, as he came running at Oliver’s screams.

“What is it, son?” White foam, smelling of lavender, fell from his palms and onto the carpet, as Oliver pointed out the window, fighting the tears.

“Death is there! By the hedge!”

His father turned a confused face. “What?

“I’ve seen him before, but never talked to him and now I did and he said he is Death. And he knows my name!”

His father’s face became stern as he took a baseball bat from the umbrella can and stepped outside, looking around for who spooked his son. Oliver followed and looked too, from a safe distance, but there was no one out there. Death was gone.

“You better not joke about things like that, Oliver,” his father said. “It’s not funny.” He gave him a disappointed look and went back into the kitchen.

“But…”

“What was all that yelling?” his mother said, coming from upstairs.

“Nothing,” his father said. “Oliver is making things up again.”

“But mom, there was-”

His mother’s face turned from concern, to annoyance. “Young man why aren’t you dressed? School starts in fifteen minutes!”

Yeah, like they would ever believe me. They were grown ups, people who had to see to believe. Oliver sighed and got ready for school.

***

“Have a fun day, sweetie!” mom said as she dropped Oliver in front of his school. “We’re going shopping after school, so wait for me here, okay? Love you!”

During the first hour of school, Oliver kept thinking of his encounter with the alleged Death. He thought his own reaction was a bit childish, running off like that. He should have put Death to the test, to make sure he wasn’t just a regular creep. If I see him again, I’ll test him, he decided.

“Oliver, would you care to join us in the classroom?”

The undertone of that voice made Oliver cringe almost as much as he hated the person who owned that voice. Miss Ripley. The teacher.

“Wandering off to fairyland again, are we?”

She had the most annoying voice in the world and for some reason decided to pick on Oliver whenever he’d get bored with the class and slip into daydreaming. Only today, he was not daydreaming. He was thinking of Death.

By the time the class was over and the bells rang for lunch break, Oliver had already forgotten about Death - hunger occupying his mind instead. Until after lunch he saw him again, the man claiming to be Death, standing by the edge of the playfield, looking straight at him.

Oliver felt a wave of chills run down his spine and on instinct wanted to run inside the school. But then he remembered his decision and walked up to the stranger.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, tring to keep his voice from shaking.

“I’ve come for you, Oliver,” the tall man said, looking down at him. He held the fence bar with one hand like he was holding a scythe. “To take your life.”

Oliver’s skin crawled. But he didn’t run.

“I’ll scream,” he blurted. “If you try to hurt me, I will scream and the teachers will come.”

The man’s thin lips smiled, some of his long hair falling away, revealing that gruesome scar. Oliver’s lunch began to bubble in his stomach.

“Your time has come,” the man spoke, softly, without hurry. “No one can prevent it.”

“Prove it first,” said Oliver, his mouth working faster than his fear. “If you prove to me you really are Death, I will go with you.” There was no sense in denying Death, right? He’s seen the movies, he knew that if it was his time, he had to go.

The man smiled again, this time revealing his white teeth. “I like you, kid. Very well. How can I prove it to you?”

Oliver thought. How does one prove they are Death? By killing people, of course! But did he really want someone else to die because of him? He didn't quite like the idea. Though, if the person was a bad one, he guessed it would be alright…

“Here’s what I want you to do,” he finally said. “I’ll give you three tests and if you can fulfill them, my life is yours.” He said three to give him some time to think them up.

Without hesitation, Death asked, “What’s the first one?”

Oliver swallowed. “There is this mean dog in our neighbourhood. He bit me when I was little, well, little-er, and I want you to get rid of him. I don’t like him, he barks at me every time I walk by from school.”

Death smiled his terrible scar-revealing smile again. “I will play your game, Oliver. But you must make me a promise. If I win, you will come with me. Deal?”

“And if you lose?”

“Then you decide what happens to me. My life will be yours then. You can call the police if you want.”

It Seemed fair to Oliver, so he nodded. The school bell rang for the final hour and Oliver went back to the school, glancing over his shoulder at Death, who kept standing there, watching him.

***

After school, Oliver waited for his mom to come pick him up. He kept looking left and right if Death was creeping at some corner, but he didn’t see the figure anywhere. Must be off killing that dog.

His mom came and they went to the store, shopping for some things mom urgently needed. While he was pushing the shopping cart - Oliver’s favorite thing about stores - he paid little attention to his surroundings, thinking of Death again. Was it really his time to go already? But he was so young…

Mom bumped into one of her friends, a woman living a few houses down the street from theirs. She looked worried, as she’d just hear some bad news.

“Brenda, what’s the matter? You don’t look so good,” Oliver’s mother asked.

“Oh, Roberd just called me. Our dog’s been run over!” 

The woman excused herself and hurried out the store, probably heading on home. Oliver’s eyes went wide. It worked! Brenda was the one whose dog had once bit Oliver. Death had killed him!

Mom noticed his surprised expression. “Oh, don’t worry sweetie. I’m sure the dog will be fine. I do want you to be extra careful when you play on the street from now on, okay?”

Oliver nodded absently, thinking to himself; The dog won’t be fine, mom. I’ve ordered Death to kill him.

He was shocked it happened so quickly. It meant he’ll have to figure something fast for the second test.

***

Later that evening, when Oliver was leaning on the window sill of his room, Death appeared under his window. Oliver watched the slender figure of a man stand on the sidewalk, waiting until nobody was looking, before he jumped the fence and walked up under Oliver’s window. Then he simply stood there, waiting patiently for Oliver to open the window so they could speak.

“I finished your first test,” spoke the man, his voice soft as silk.

“The dog is dead,” said Oliver. He overheard the neighbours talking, complaining about a hit and run. “But how do I know it was you?”

The man paused for a moment. “Would you like to see the body, Oliver?”

Oliver cringed. Then he shook his head, some of the curls getting into his eyes. He once poked at a dead squirrel. It smelled horrible.

“Name your second test, kid,” Death said. “It's a good warm up. You know, for when I’ll take your life.”

Oliver tightened his lips. He thought about it for a few hours, deciding who Death should kill next. A dog was easy, and anyone could have done it. Someone could run him over by accident. The next test should be harder.

“Mr. Rogers,” he said, hesitantly. “I want you to take his life. Anyone could have hit that dog.”

“Who’s Mr. Rogers, kid?”

Oliver frowned. “I thought you knew who everyone is?”

“There are a lot of Rogers’ in the world, kid,” the man said, pushing back his hair, showing his scar. “Hard to tell them apart.”

Oliver hesitated for a moment, then nodded towards the neighbour’s house. “It’s the old guy living next door. I don’t like how he’s grumpy all the time and gets angry if I play in front of his house with my friends. Also, he’s sick already, coughing terribly in the night, so he should already be on your list, probably.”

Death chuckled lightly. “I see. Smart kid.” He paused. “Mind telling me what the third test is? I’m feeling rather productive this evening.”

Oliver swallowed hard. He did think about the third target long and hard. The person he hated the most. 

“Miss Ripley,” he whispered, afraid someone might hear him. “My school teacher. She’s mean to me.”

The black haired man smiled and nodded, sending chills down Oliver’s neck. Then he made sure nobody was looking again, turned and left the way he came. Oliver watched him walk down the sidewalk, people avoiding looking at him. Oliver was more and more convinced that this man really was Death. 

But he wasn’t sure yet.

He’ll know tomorrow, probably.

***

“Mr. Rogers passed away in his sleep last night,” Oliver’s mom said at breakfast. Oliver was still half asleep at the table, munching on his bread and jam. He didn’t sleep well last night, having bad dreams of people dying all around him. The news shocked him, though he was expecting it. 

His dad sipped some coffee. “The man was very sick,” he said. “I guess his time had come. You see Oliver, when people get very old, they can get sick and die in their sleep, peacefully. But you don’t have to worry your young head about that, your time won’t come for a good loooong while.” He smiled, trying to lighten up the mood.

Oliver smiled back, though it was a fake smile. Inside he knew that his time was coming very soon now. Death completed two of his tests already. Only Miss Ripley remained now. And school was soon going to start.

“First the dog gets run over, then Mr. Rogers passes away in his sleep… God bless them both.” His mom was visibly disturbed by all this and Oliver felt a bit sad for her. He wondered how she would react when Death took his life?

Oliver finished his breakfast, though he couldn’t muster up an appetite, and then went to school. His mother dropped him off as usual and Oliver walked the school stairs, feeling a dreadful sense of anticipation rising with every step. Will Miss Ripley be in the classroom? Or was she dead?

He almost didn’t dare enter the classroom. But he did anyway, not wanting to seem like some morron, standing there by the door. All the other kids were already there, chatting lively, waiting for the teacher to come.

Oliver sat at his desk, his heart thumping in his chest. He caught himself praying for Miss Ripley to be alright. He never thought he’d do that. 

Then the clock hit 8 and the school bell rang, indicating the start of the first period.

The teacher didn’t come. Oliver felt his stomach twist. The other kids continued talking and laughing, some poking Oliver, asking why he’s so tense. Oliver ignored them and kept staring at the door, hoping Miss RIpley would enter. Hoping Death wasn’t real and his time not yet coming.

Then, the door opened.

Oliver’s heart stopped.

It wasn’t Miss Ripley.

Instead, it was Mr. Jackson, the teacher who sometimes came as a substitute. And he didn’t look happy as he normally was.

“Good morning, class,” he said, his voice low and his shoulders slumped.

Oh no, what have I done?

“I have some tragic news today. Your regular teacher, Miss Ripley, had a terrible accident this morning…”

Oliver couldn’t take it anymore. He felt his heart would jump out of his rib cage if he sat there for another moment. He jumped up and dashed out of the classroom, provoking some gasps and surprised looks from others. 

He ran outside to the school playground, tears flowing down his face and breathing heavily. Death was real. He killed two people and a dog. And now Death would take him. Oliver felt like throwing up, but he managed to keep the food in. He leaned onto the basketball pole and took deep breaths.

“Your tests are up, kid,” said a soft voice and as Oliver turned, there he was. Death, with his long black hair and that terrible smile. There also appeared to be some glass bits on his coat and a bruise on his forehead, but Oliver was too overwhelmed to think much of it.

“So you really are Death,” he said, defeated. He suddenly felt very tired and lonely, it no longer seemed like a game to him.

“I told you,” said Death. “Come now, Oliver. I won. You must come with me.”

Fresh tears came down Oliver’s face as he thought about how his mom and dad would react when they learned of his death. I wonder if they will be sad…

“Okay,” said Oliver. One did not argue with Death. That much was clear to him.

Death smiled and offered him a hand. Reluctantly, Oliver took it.

Then they left the school playground, just before Mr. Jackson came out searching for him.

***

A few days later, the news shocked the small town of Decorah, Iowa. Noah Jenkins, 45 year old male, the serial killer also known as ‘Death’, had claimed another victim, this time a young boy only six years old. The police issued a press report, where they stated that they’ve been tracking this man for five years already, across seven different states. They said that he’s always been targeting young boys, ages from 4 to 9 years old. Though this time was the first time the psychopath had claimed the lives of two adults, including one school teacher, who reportedly had a car accident and a senior citizen, who was suffocated in his sleep. 

The thing that baffled the police the most, and was also the reason for such a great lack of evidence, was that all the victims seemed to go with the killer voluntarily, to the crime scene. There were never signs of struggle. 

As if the killer played some sick game on them, and the children, being children, fell for it.