Reaper and the Moon

Content Warning: Car accident and Death

Two things in life remained certain- the inevitability of death and the peaceful falling of night.

Scott sat among the evergreen, listening to the stray cars pass on the highway as he looked up to the moon. It was the time of night when traffic was nearly nonexistent. A few long-haul semis and the occasional car humming by. Not the car he was waiting for though. Not yet.

He could feel it getting closer. A sort of soft buzz in his blood told him that the SUV neared, and with it, his assignments.

It wouldn’t be their fault. None of them had been drinking or irresponsible. They were just on their way home from a concert; all five still alert in the early hour and enjoying themselves. The crash was simply due to a truck driver, too tired to drive straight but kept going when he should have stopped hours ago.

He would survive. The five, he thought morosely, would all die when the truck throws their car from the road.

But until then, Scott sat waiting with the moon.

He used to dream of it when he’d been human. Of what it must be like to exist in such a serene state of quiet, being able to watch everything from above. So when he was given night assignments such as this, he did what he could to spare a few minutes and sit alone, looking up to the sky to calm himself before setting to work. It was for his benefit as much as the victim’s.

No one wanted an anxious reaper.

When the buzzing in his veins grew, he sighed and stood from his spot to walk down the small hill and wait by the side of the road. He could hear their laughter, listened to their happy voices singing along to the same band they’d just come from seeing. Not one of them was older than twenty-five.

He forced himself to bury his sour mood when he heard the trucker yawn again and take another large gulp of his energy drink. And had to stifle it once more when the man tipped his head back to catch the last drops and simultaneously floored the gas pedal. This was the job, he reminded himself. It wasn’t his place to judge or futilely attempt to change fate. He was simply the first guide souls received. A messenger meant to pass them along.

That incessant buzzing grew as the two neared the crash site. A part of him, the long-lost human empathy that had secured him his position as reaper so long ago, wanted to yell out. Wave his arms and scream.

But they wouldn’t see him. It wouldn’t have done any good.

Instead, Scott watched the wreck unfold impassively. He had witnessed far worse in his time and being greeted a tear-streaked face would just upset the souls.

He’d give the dying the respect of not averting his eyes. It was as much as he’d done for any soul in the past and he wouldn’t give these any less.

The semi pushed the smaller car passed him, through him technically, though he felt none of it. He knew the moment when, instead of hitting the brakes, the trucker panicked and stomped the gas again, and sent the car flying.

When moaning metal at last quieted and neither of the vehicles moved, he walked forward, reaching gently into the driver to pull her from the broken body. She was the only one to die on impact. The luckiest of the group.

And the youngest, he realized.

He waited for her to come to her senses, waited for the crying and bargaining to allow her to keep her life, but when her eyes wheeled around the scene with panic, eventually settling on him, she calmed.

“Why?”

She was so calm. Why was she so calm? They were normally so distraught upon realizing they’d just died, but she just looked at him with an easy, relaxed expression.

“Because it was your time,” he said simply.

“And my friends?”

“They’ll be along, too. They’re just going to take a little longer.” He hoped she couldn’t hear them gasping for breath. One friend in the back seat had a punctured lung, and he knew the poor guy had a while to go before passing.

She nodded, accepting it easier than he thought her capable. “It was such a nice night,” she said to herself, looking over her shoulder into the SUV as if considering. “At least we had fun before this,” she muttered softly.

Scott was at a loss for what to say. Sixty years reaping and for the first time, he was speechless. He’d taken children and not felt this hopeless. This girl, who had just gone through a horrific accident, been pulled from her body by a reaper and now stood next to her dying friends was looking on the bright side of her death.

“At least it was fun,” he agreed numbly. “Let’s get you on your way, honey.” Scott led her away from the flames- he knew the last of them would die when the car fully caught fire- and into her beyond.

Over the next few hours, he comforted the rest, consoled and soothed each as they passed over.

He wouldn’t spare a glance to the semi driver being corralled by EMTs. From the moment the man had wandered from his cab, Scott just knew the first thought was how to twist this to avoid the fault. He didn’t see how the man could as the semi was far from its own lane and had clearly pushed the kids off road. 

He went back to his hill when the humming in his body finally quieted and watched hues of pinks and purples and oranges reach their fingers across the lightening sky. She would stick with him- the girl who had been so peaceful at her end. And for that, he was grateful. In a way, she had given him hope.

So, he thought, perhaps three things remained certain- the inevitability of death, the falling of night, and the ever-hopeful rise of the sun.