Another Day of Horrors

Another day of this blasted heat wave, another busy day of work. It's days like this that I feel my job is eating me from the inside out like a worm eats a long-dead corpse. Nothing like a few macabre thoughts to start the day off right.

I roll out of bed and pull on my uniform, the familiar black folds enveloping me. Even though it is early in the morning, the heat is already suffocating, and I pause to wipe away the sweat that is already pouring from my forehead. It’s sticky, like a popsicle left melting on the asphalt, forgotten by some child long gone. 

I rush downstairs, out the kitchen and through the front door. I have no need to stop, I haven’t a wife to kiss goodbye, no children to take to school. No one like me could ever have a family.

I walk swiftly down the busy street unnoticed by the throngs of adults and children alike. I’m one of the true constants in life, feared by some, embraced by others, yet no one ever notices me. You’re probably wondering who I am, what my job is. Trust me, you don’t want to know. Not yet anyway. 

I try to focus on the sights and sounds of the busy city, anything to distract me from the day of horrors that lays ahead. In the distance, I hear a radio crackle to life: “Well hello and good morning folks! It’s sure is another hot one out there today, now isn’t is Dave?” “It sure is John! We would like to remind our listeners that…” The radio dissolves into static, and I turn my attention inward. I hate this job, I hate this job, I hate this job. Saying this over and over calms me, like a mantra of sorts. In the back of my head, a voice is nagging me. If I hate this job so much, why do I do it? Well, if I didn’t do it, who would? And if no one did my job, then, well, the world would fall apart. My job is who I am, and I am my job. Why do I hate this job so much, you may wonder? Every day I have the same routine, yet each day is a fresh horror nonetheless. 

Enough about me. I’ve arrived at my first task of the day, as though an invisible compass has drawn me there. I scan the busy beach, searching for my first victim, for lack of a better word. My gaze lands on a young girl, sitting with her legs dangling over the bow of a boat. I try to look away, but like always, the situation awakens a morbid fascination within me as I watch the girl tumble off the edge of the boat and disappear under the waves. I try to block out the screams of the terrified family as I sweep the girl up into my arms. The family doesn’t notice me, they never do. I cradle the girl gently in my arms, whispering tenderly to her although I know she can’t hear me. One down, millions to go. 

I was guided by an unseen force to a small cottage-like home on the outskirts of the city. The inside was quiet, with a slight musty smell. I floated up the stairs, where I was faced with three doors. I slowly turned the knob on the first door, and inside I found an old woman, small in stature and wrinkled, lying peacefully, as though asleep, in her bed. She welcomed me with open arms and together we left through the front door

My next stop is a parking lot behind a strip mall. What a lonely place to die. A single car sat in the far right corner, windows up, in the direct sunlight. I glide over to the car, and my heart shatters as I saw the motionless baby in the backseat, his tiny face contorted in distress. It’s always the children that break me. As I extract him as delicately as I can, I am hit by a blast of heat from the car. I hold him to my chest as I make my escape. I don’t want to be around when his tiny body is discovered. 

My final stop of the day. I am on a rooftop restaurant, watching a young couple eating and laughing. They are sitting ominously close to the edge. The young man tips his chair back on the two hind legs, telling a joke to his beautiful counterpart. I hold my breath as his chair topples over. Momentarily, I wonder how this will end, after all, the rooftop is surrounded by a tall glass fence. As I am lost in my thoughts, the glass shatters and the young man falls through it, and down, down, down. I swoop down and catch him. He still has a hint of a smile playing on his handsome face. 

And now, it is time for you to know who I am. Or perhaps you have already figured it out. Nevertheless, a promise is a promise, even to me, and I will tell you who I am. 

When you think of me, you most likely think of a tall, ominous creature, dressed in a long, black, hooded cloak, carrying a scythe. Or maybe you think of an angel, with a glowing halo and fluttering wings. But I am neither of these things. I bring no pain, no suffering, no sorrow. I don’t stop your heart from beating, or your lungs breathing. 

One day you and I will meet. It is inevitable. I pray that you welcome with open arms, that you meet me when you are ready. I will pick you up, as gently, as tenderly as I can, and I will cradle you in my arms as I return your soul to where it belongs. 

You make think that Death is a terrible thing, a frightening thing, but imagine what it would be to be faced with Death every single day of your neverending existence. Imagine what it would be like to be Death himself. I don’t have to imagine that, because, I am Death.