A Grim Reaper's Tale

[Irako of the Desert]

Prologue

Death.

A simple seeming word, no?

Don't be fooled.

With that one word, you capture the whole of my domain. You describe everything over which I have power.

People have given me many names. Specter of Death, Azrael, Angel of Death, The Morrigan, Yama, et cetera, et cetera. For now, stick to the one that's probably the most familiar to you. The Grim Reaper.

No, I'm not a skeleton that wears black robes and holds a giant scythe. I'm not a woman in a white dress, or a man with the head of a jackal. Just because I can take those forms at will doesn't mean that's who I am. I am the one who appears as you slip into the darkness. I guide your soul to its proper resting place. I don't discriminate based on your gender, race, or age. I come to everyone, in due time.

I work alone, independent of all the gods out there. Some of them try to recruit me to work for them, but I won't do it. The last time I did, things went wrong. Very wrong. Things got... messy.

You want to hear about it?

Act 1

"Oi, you!"

I glanced up at a man from where I was sitting at a fork in the road. He had a sneer on his otherwise handsome face and stood in an arrogant manner that I decided I didn't like. Nonetheless, I spoke politely.

"You seek direction?"

My voice came out querulously, as the form I had taken was that of an old, decrepit man in the black hooded robes that were faintly reminiscent of a monk's. I peered up at the man from under my hood, looking at his soul. When I look at a person's soul, I see their entire life and all their desires. It's how I figure out where to take them when they die

Odd. This one didn't have a soul.

"No. My master wants a word with you. I've got orders to take you to him, and I'll take you whether you want to go or not."

Ok, I definitely didn't like this man's attitude. And I'm using the term "man" in the loosest sense possible, seeing as how he didn't have a soul. His tone grated on my nerves with the sheer rudeness of it. I could tell he thought I was weak and powerless. Time to disabuse him of that notion.

I straightened, altering my form as I did into one of an impossibly tall skeleton in tattered robes. Mist billowed up from behind me and enveloped us, creating a heavy gloom. A large, wicked-looking scythe solidified in my hand out of the mist and curved above my head. Bones clicked and rattled ominously as I adjusted my grip on it casually.

Usually, at this point, my audience was pissing in terror, too frightened to move. This man looked around and yawned. This irked me a little. It's not every day you meet Death incarnate, after all. Can you blame me for wanting a little reaction?

When I spoke, my voice was raspy and seemed to echo from all around.

"Your master? And what makes you think I want to talk to your master?"

The man grinned nastily. "Like I said, I have orders to take you to him whether you want to go or not."

That kind of confidence was a little odd, especially since he was threatening a giant skeleton with a scythe. I'd never come across it before, and was intrigued. Also, a little worried. What kind of power could he have, to be so sure that he could take Death by force? Maybe he wasn't from this part of the world. Maybe his religion's idea of death looked different. But changing form now after doing so once already would just be tacky.

For effect, I rattled my bones and spoke again. "Do not presume to threaten Death, mortal."

He laughed. Laughed! He laughed so hard, he doubled over, gasping for breath. I was starting to worry now. Who laughs in the face of Death?

After a few moments, he stood and wiped his eyes, regaining his breath. "You think I'm mortal? Did you see a soul, Reaper?" He answered his own question. "Of course not." With that same nasty grin, he flicked his shoulders back. Out sprang a pair of bat-like wings with tattered webbing.

"Demons don't die. Now we can do this the hard way if you want."

My response was to swing the scythe through his chest so that the point went through him and out of his back. He choked and spluttered satisfactorily, spraying black ichor from his mouth and oozing it from around my scythe. It smelled of brimstone and sulfur. That told me a lot more about him.

"You're one of that new god's minions. What's his name, Lucifer or something like that?" With the human population growing as it was, it was hard for me to keep track of the gods that sprang into existence in order to fulfill the role created for them by the humans' beliefs.

The demon glared at me, even as more ichor dripped out of his mouth. There was contempt and anger in his voice still, though now it was mingled with agony.

"The... Son of... the Morning Star... wishes an alliance... with Death... I am... his emissary..." He spit out more blood and tried to seize the blade of the scythe. It was stupid, since it only served to slice up his hands and cause more ichor to leak out of his body.

I leaned close, making sure he could see the skeletal grin on my skull-like head. "An alliance? With Death? What an interesting idea. But I don't like threats." With that, I ripped upward with the scythe effortlessly, slicing the arrogant demon in half. Ichor sprayed all over my robes, sizzling wherever it touched. It took but a thought to remove it from my body. The demon's body began to evaporate into a black mist, which sped away as if on a fierce wind to someplace. I didn't think I would kill it, but at least if he returned to his master, my message would be sent.

With a sigh, I returned to my harmless-seeming old man form and sat back down at the crossroads.

Act 2

I had thought after slicing up the demon, I wouldn't be bothered again by that particular god. But young gods are so certain of their strength and importance, and this one was no exception. He wasn't going to take no for an answer.

The sky overhead darkened as thick black clouds rolled in. Thunder and lightning crashed and roared all around. Sometimes the lightning struck the ground, leaving behind a burning stench of superheated air and crisped dirt.

I glanced upward and sighed, then got to my feet. It looked as if I would soon have another 'unrefusable' offer that I'd have to refuse.

Lightning struck the ground with a huge crack just in front of me. When it was gone, there stood another handsome man. He had wings as well, but these were feathered in black. His body was bare except for a black cloth draped around him to keep him 'decent'. It was a style that was increasingly favored as subject material for artists.

A quick look told me this one had no soul either. I smiled up at him, all harmless old man.

"Do you seek direction?"

The man smiled at me and gestured. "For one so powerful, that certainly is an odd form to assume, eh, Death?"

I chuckled and replied, "For some, it's a comforting image."

"Just as a skeleton in robes is comforting?" The man's smile had turned sardonic. His manner was discomfiting. One minute, it was warm and genial, and the next, it was cool and ruthless. I didn't like him either.

I straightened a little and pulled a staff out of my sleeve to lean on as I spoke. "You never know. Humans can be an odd bunch."

He laughed at that, wings quivering in amusement. "Very true, Death." With another disconcerting attitude change, he became very serious and slightly sinister-looking.

"Let us move beyond these pleasantries. I am Lucifer, formerly an angel, and now the Lord of Hell. I have a proposition for you, Death."

I snorted at that, my little old man face smiling at his naivete. "You're going to have to be more specific about which Hell you're talking about, sonny. There's more than one, you know."

A flash of anger passed over his face before he smoothed it into an urbane smile. "I believe there's a writer by the name of Dante who's described it ever so aptly in his work, the Divine Comedy."

I pondered for a moment, then nodded. "Ah, that one. That new religion, Christianity, came up with it, I believe. And your proposition?" My tone was bored and I was toying with the idea of turning the staff into a scythe, just to slice open this god. He was starting to bug me.

He floundered for a bit before saying, "I want an alliance with you, Death. I want as many souls of people as I can get into my domain. You're the one that guides the souls of humans to their proper resting place. I want you to bring them to me."

His words almost seemed desperate. It made me a little suspicious, but also let me know that I had the upper hand. Desperate people were often willing to make a lot of concessions they wouldn't normally make.

I also understood immediately why he wanted the souls. Gods depended on beliefs for survival, but needed souls for their powers. Normally, they got this just by having devoted followers that worshiped them. But from what I knew about this new faith, Lucifer was not a god that was worshiped. Christianity was an unusual religion because it had separated Good and Evil into two deities, rather than having one god with light and dark aspects. God was the good guy and Lucifer was the bad guy. Every Christian loved God and hated the Son of the Morning Star. That meant God got all the power.

The other unusual thing was that Christians believed their God and Lucifer were constantly warring over the souls of mankind. This meant that the god standing before me was driven to collect as many souls as possible. He was in an unusual position because humans believed he existed, but didn't worship him. He couldn't win followers because he was meant to be Evil incarnate, so was less powerful as a result. I could tell that he wanted souls in his domain in order to draw power from them.

I eyed him speculatively. "Seems like you get a lot of benefit from my work. I have yet to hear what I get out of this."

This absolutely dumbfounded the young god. Apparently, he was used to getting his own way. If the only people he interacted with were those demons, I wasn't surprised.

 

[Irako of the Desert]

Rin Loveless

I love this piece! It's so interesting--your ideas of what death is really like. I was also impressed with the idea that gods keeps springing up into existence to fulfill humans' expectations.

Your writing style is also impressive--not only does it flow very nicely, but it has a strong voice which is hard to come by. It's something to be very proud of! Good job! ^-^

Thanks for your kind words. It was actually inspired by a dream I had, though it's not exactly the same. Things that make sense in dreams don't make sense in the real world, you know?

I'll be adding more as I go, so please keep reading!  

[Irako of the Desert]

Act 3

I stood there and leaned on my staff patiently, waiting as the young god floundered for a bit. He was obviously having trouble grasping the concept that the whole of existence would not bend to his every little whim.

Finally, he smiled, but I could see how fake it was.

"I would make you my second-in-command. You would have authority over all of Hell, and would only have to answer to me. There would be thousands of demons to do your bidding and fulfill your every whim." He sidled up beside me and threw an arm over my shoulders in an amiable manner, as if we were old chums. "With the kind of power you'd bring me, I would be able to grant you anything you desire."

I snorted at this. "What makes you think I want authority over your Hell? Or demons fawning all over me." I pushed his arm off my shoulders. "I've got work to do, I don't have time to spend lounging about being pestered by your horde." With that, I started walking away, using the staff to help.

Lucifer appeared right in front of me in a puff of smoke. He threw himself onto the ground, prostrating at my feet.

"Please, Lord Death! I'm begging you, help me!" He began to snivel in the dirt. "You... You don't understand what it's like, being in my place! Nobody pays homage to the Fallen Angel! The demons fear me, they don't love me! Whenever I go up against God, he laughs at me!" He looked up, all teary-eyed. "And then he beats me in a humiliating fashion and throws me back in Hell! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?"

I rolled my eyes. He needed to work on his acting. It just wasn't convincing to me. I tried to step over him, but he snatched at the hem of my robes.

"Let go, leave me alone." I tugged on my robes, trying to reclaim my hem, but he had a tight grip on it.

"Please, Lord Death! Please! I need your help, I have nowhere else to turn!"

I bopped the young god on the head with my staff, but to no avail. He just started begging more loudly, his voice taking on a whining tone. It was enough to drive one mad.

Finally, I shouted, "Alright! I'll start bringing souls to you!"

Lucifer jumped up, hands clasped in front of him, looking excited. Before he could start gushing thanks, I transformed into the skeleton holding the scythe and pointed a bony finger at him. With the rattling voice, I said, "I will only bring souls that have died in their due course. I will not kill for you."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Of course, that's all I want!"

I tsked at him and waved. "Go. Leave me alone." He obliged me, leaving in the same manner he had come, amidst thunder and lightning and black clouds. Soon, all of it was gone, leaving behind a day starten to turn to dusk.

I sighed. This would definitely be interesting.

 

[Irako of the Desert]

Act 4

"Ah, Lord Death. Thank you for coming to see me. I know how busy you are."

Lucifer had changed a lot in the hundred years since I'd begun bringing the souls of the dead into his domain. He was still a handsome devil (ha, you liked that pun, right?), but he'd gotten a lot more powerful. He'd become more devious and calculating, as well as more skilled in convincing people to do what he wanted He had even gotten living people to start worshiping him. They called themselves Satanists. Christians really had reason to fear him now.

He sat on a throne of skulls on a raised dais, surrounded by flames. Here and there, demon slaves scuttled about on their duties. It was an intimidating scene, but I wasn't fazed by it. For all that he had changed, his sense of style had only gotten worse. He still wore that black sheet that draped over his body, for crying out loud! I resisted the urge to shake my head.

"Make it quick."

He smiled languidly at me and waved a hand, causing a chair that looked to be made out of bones appear in front of the dais. "Please, sit. I'll have one of the demons bring you something."

"No thanks. The faster we get through this, the sooner I can be on my way."

Lucifer's face darkened and the flames around his throne flared a little bit, but he quickly reined in his temper. "Of course." He sat up, wings fluttering, and looked at me. "You know my followers? The Satanists?"

I nodded. They believed that Lucifer embodied the basic nature of humans and lived according to their whims. A rather idiotic bunch, if you asked me.

"They've begun these rituals meant to invoke me or particular members of my demonic horde. Sometimes, we go, sometimes we don't." He looked at me, and I saw how he was judging my reactions and adding them into his calculations. Fortunately, I'd taken the form of a jackal-headed man this time, a popular icon in Egypt in days long past. He wasn't familiar with the mannerisms of the sly desert dogs, so was having trouble gauging my reactions.

"They've begun human sacrifices. As a personal favor to me, do you think you could ensure that those sacrificed souls end up here rather than wherever it is they would normally go?"

I shrugged. At the time, it never occurred to me to ask why he wanted those specific souls. I was already bringing plenty of them into his realm and thought a few more wouldn't matter. "Alright. Is that it?"

Was it my imagination, or had a flash of triumph flickered across his features. "Yes. Thank you so very much, Lord Death."

He insisted on calling me that, though I had no idea why. Without a word of goodbye, I left his Hell and went back to my duties.

This is one of the few moments that I wish I could go back and change. If only I had asked why he wanted those souls. If only I'd ignored his pleas for help before. But no matter how many times I if only-ed, my domain doesn't involve time. I'm stuck with things the way they are and can't change what has happened.

 

[Irako of the Desert]

Act 5

The first Satanic ritual I went to was sickening.

A pregnant woman lay on the altar, naked and covered in black symbols. She wasn't due for at least two more weeks, but the worshippers had induced labor and delivered the baby prematurely. The little thing barely had enough strength to cry. The baby was painted with similar symbols and replaced his mother on the altar. The worshippers then forced the mother to ritually sacrifice the newborn and anoint herself and others in its blood.

I collected the newborn's soul and held it tenderly, assuming the form of a woman in a white dress. The soul wailed, disliking my cold flesh. There was nothing I could do for it except hold it gently and make my way back to Lucifer.

The god's face lit up with glee as I presented the soul to him. He cuddled it, ignoring its screams. His face showed not the happiness of a doting caretaker, but the triumph of someone who'd won a struggle.

This went on for a few years. I would retrieve souls from the rituals. Most were of children too young to speak, or believers that were ecstatic to be going to meet their Lord. I grew used to the grotesque scenes, and largely ignored them. I ignored my own instincts about the children and fulfilled Lucifer's commands. He was getting a lot stronger, but I never had any doubts. Or at least if I did, I pushed them out of my mind. Death overcomes all in the end, even if a god's death isn't the same as a mortal's death.

At this point, you're probably shaking your head at my idiocy. If you're not, don't worry. I am. I never saw that Lucifer gained power exponentially with every child soul sacrificed to him. I missed the glances of hatred and envy, never heard the whispers of plots against me. In short, I was arrogant in my own power and never dreamed that he would attempt to destroy me. To my eternal embarrassment, it took a child to see it and point it out to me.

 

[Irako of the Desert]

Act 6

"Where are you taking me, sir?"

I was in my old man form, with a boy about ten years old pacing next to me. He was the oldest of all the children sacrifices I'd seen yet, and was remarkably calm after the horrors he'd just been through.

I said nothing and simply kept walking on. It was the technique I used with adults a lot when they died. They often cried and wailed at me when I came, saying they weren't ready to go, or they just wanted to say goodbye to their loved ones, or they'd left something undone. Some tried bribes of wealth, power, even souls, but Death is eternal. I don't find anything to be particularly important, because in the end, I will still be here when all material things have turned to dust. The only way I would cease to exist is if there were no more life, since without life, there cannot be death.

The boy was silent for a moment, then said, "I guess you're Death, then. Are you allowed to say where I'm being taken?"

His tone held nothing but child-like curiosity. There was no fear, no mistrust, no guile. It was a totally alien experience to me, and intriguing. I replied, saying, "I could, but you might try to run away."

"No, I won't. Where would I go to? You saw what they did to me." Here, the boy shivered and unconsciously clutched himself. It was a pathetic gesture, and for some reason, it made me faintly sick as I remembered the scene. And no, I'm not going to tell you about it. You'll have nightmares about it. Anyway,