He collapsed in her arms, just when he wanted to tell her how much he loved her. He wanted to tell her how he had already planned their entire future, how he wanted to marry her and take her far, far away. Far away from her drug-abusing father, her psychopath mom and her serial-killer brother. He had already arranged an apartment on the other side of the States, and their Mustang was packed and ready to leave. But if there is one thing I learned in about two-hundred years of service to the Grim Reaper, it’s that Fate is a bitch.
Four bullets pierced his back, and left through his chest. The love of his life was covered in the fluid that kept him alive. His once so sparkling green eyes turned pale, and his blushing red cheeks became white as snow. As he fell on his knees, holding on to the golden ring he wanted to hand her, his darling screamed out in despair and rage. I took a step back, and looked around. Then, I saw the gun blazing, held by that serial-killer brother. He had an insane smirk on his face, and his eyes were made out of the same fabric that gives birth to pure madness. But then, he saw the sadness and grief in the eyes of his own sister, and the insanity left his visage, just to make place for another kind of twisted emotion. Then, he moved the gun to his open mouth, and pulled the trigger. I almost forgot that I had to pick up two souls here. Thanks for reminding me, kid.
The air was now filled with the scent of blood, death and tragedy. Two dead bodies and a weeping girl set this most dramatic scene. In the distance, I could hear the sounds of police cars. I stepped closer to the shot boyfriend, and looked at the golden ring that lied on the cold cobblestones now. I kneeled down next to him, and sighed. Even after two-hundred years of picking up souls and bringing them to the Clockwork, I could not stop wondering about the wicked ways of Fate. This girl was now robbed of any chance of ever getting out of this miserable existence. If Fate had any mercy, it would have rather killed this poor lady instead of these two boys. But it was not my duty to judge about this. All I had to do is getting these poor suckers away from here. I took a deep breath, and did what had to be done.
Once again, I was very grateful for being an incorporeal being. Reaching into someone’s chest would otherwise turn into a very bloody mess, considering that tonight enough blood had already been shed. But I did not want to pull out some part of the human organism, I was reaching for something that only a few could see and feel: the soul. And there I had it, shaped like a small, white glowing diamond. It resonated in my palm, like it was begging me to be returned inside the warm shell of a mortal body. But its former husk was no longer warm. The last drops of blood dripped from the places where the bullets had left, and his skin was ice-cold. No going back for you, little soul. I grasped the crystal firmly in my hand, and walked over to the other corpse. In the mean time, the girl had taken hold of her dead lover, and held his stiff body in her arms, crying. I was doing my best to be touched by the view of it, but a lack of emotion made it quite hard to be compassionate.
I kneeled down next to the corpse of the brother, and stared at the hole in the back of his head. A clean shot, as far as giving yourself a “clean shot” is possible. I reached for the soul, and pulled it out of the chest. This shard was also vibrating and pulsing, afraid of its fate. I held the immortal diamond in my other hand, and turned around for a last time to look at the girl. The police and emergency doctors had arrived, and tried to take the corpse from the woman’s embrace. She screamed in agony and despair, and even I felt a sting in the place where I once had my heart. However, my work here was done. I got up, and left the cruel scene.
It is just another day in the life of an Athanatoi, an Immortal. Some might say that this job sucks pretty bad: seeing people die on a daily bases, picking up their souls and making sure they end up at the right place. But after two centuries of doing this job, I can’t imagine doing anything else, especially some kind of desk job in some cubicle. Imagine the horror that is paperwork and some boss breathing in your neck to make some kind of deadline…
Troll-tastic Talk 