Reapers

All human value can only be measured in a means of personal currency; highly valued when one has too little and completely worthless when one has too much. There is never a happy medium, a perfect middle to have everything be balanced because human nature can never be balanced. People will always long for something they don’t have, strive for the next pedestal to leap to, to look down on those that go without. They flash their symbols of wealth and success to anyone able to see it, encouraging others into a rabid frenzy to reach that spot in their lives.

But what if you don’t desire such a pedestal? What if you’d prefer to fall and disappear into the abyss below, uncaring if it swallows you completely and leaves nothing behind but fading memories and dusty mementos? Some find comfort in the thought of simply disappearing, not being part of a world that demands from you more than you can possibly give. It leaves you with only a shred of who you once were, someone you long to be again but unable to because of the walls and blockades they put up around you. Blockades requiring moral sacrifice, monetary tribute, investment of time and strength, all things that you hardly have left because you have been giving them with little in return to make up for the loss of it all.

Left with only a small shred as a reminder, most wish to fall asleep and dream of who they once were, longing to never wake to the cruel world that took away the parts of themselves that they adore. They long for the warmth of comfort society barely offers unless you have the means to pay for such, whether by currency, time, or blood, so when something can off that with little needing to be exchanged, other slip into its embrace and never wake. They’d rather become trapped in the warmth of eternal darkness than to attempt facing the cold bite of reality once again.

People like that are everywhere and some even closer than you’d expect.

You might hardly know or see it beyond the mask they wear to push through that longing of dark comfort, being only just one more failure or rejection away from complete surrender, from taking the full plunge without another thought. They think there’s nothing more for them to lose by being engulfed in that warmth, no harm done by them seeking out that final comfort from a cold, unforgiving world. They make themselves believe the quiet peace and warm comfort of that darkness will be all they’ll ever need as they have nothing else to hold onto or pursue. All their dreams have dried up and shattered, leaving sharp fragments that painfully remind them of their failures. If succumbing to the darkness means escaping that pain, most will dive in without a second thought to any other solution.

Every day, 130 people decide to retreat into that warm darkness and succeed, joining the hundreds of thousands that pursued the same before them. The daily casualty of society’s cold blade cutting the strings of hope and endurance for so many. It’s a sad fact to accept, but it’s fact all the same. A thick pill to swallow when confronted by the idea that someone close has tried to pursue the same, only barely being luckier than the rest to be pulled back. They may have been kicking or screaming in the process or silent in shame or purely from being unconscious and unaware of their lives being plucked out of the grip of the consuming darkness. It is an ever-looming threat to even those you’d never imagine being willing to embrace that path unless you have considered it yourself and were found to be a lucky survivor of the plunge. Everyone has their reasons to refuse to pursue such measures, considering the ramifications on one’s soul, the moments they might miss if they succeed, the ones they would leave behind, but some never have a good reason to consider against it and thus are more vulnerable to the lure of the comfort of that darkness.

What of those that have no reason and somehow still survive? How do they manage to be so fortunate without outside intervention from a kind stranger or a loved one? What do they have that the others do not to survive those odds stacked against them? The will to live and face the world is a hard fire to keep alit against the vicious and cold winds of the world, but those that have been engulfed by the shadows know that nothing waits beyond that darkness. Many just fade into becoming the faceless essence that lures others to join them in solemn harmony, but others become stronger after such, pulling free from the darkness and able to help those that can’t help themselves or be helped.

We are the Reapers, but not the ones that most fear due to superstition of death and decay. Our roles are much different when it comes to judging the value of lives that the cruel, cold gaze of society cannot see. We Reapers never see the value of currency or time, such things are the result of gluttonous excess, we only see the true value of these souls that yearn for the darkness. We can’t help every soul that delves into the darkness for comfort, the pull being too strong for our whispered words to reach, but those we do help are with strong reason and purpose. We see the value these souls have in the world they are trying to escape, the things they could change and the feats they could pursue with enough time and aid, things they would miss if they were consumed by the lonely shadows.

Our words are never loud, being only gentle whispers to urge these souls to hang on long enough for intervention to pull them free of the darkness. For those that don’t have such, we merely press harder, trying to keep the soul from sinking into the darkness long enough for their will to spark once again. It is an intense light that forces back the twisted clutches of the darkness and brings them away from it. We never receive much gratitude for our role, we never ask for it. We Reapers understand the cruel sorrow of wasted potential being left to decay in the shadows, becoming nothing more than silent desperation and flickering images of what we could have been.

Society may never recognize the true value of a soul, continuing to drain the resources it desires from many to the point of pursuing that darkness. It will take and take until there is nothing left and leave the rest to crumble and fade into nothing. That spark is what makes many different from the silent and desperate in the darkness within and it never truly dies if one doesn’t allow it to. Small gusts are what a faint flame needs to build into a raging fire on even the coldest of nights, so do not deny yourself even the smallest of aids in such times of darkness and despair. Let those gusts fan your flames until your spark burns with great purpose and power. While we may forever live in the darkness with these shadows, we still appreciate the sparks of light we see beyond our world. May each and one of them continue to burn brightly for eons to come. And if one may fall to plunge into the darkness, we’ll be here to help it back into the sky, if we can.

Our sparks never truly died even after being snuffed, so why should we allow others to be snuffed before they can burn brightly?