The Passive Aggressive Reaper

The world suddenly froze, a snapshot in time. Wind blown treetops fastened hard in place, like statues, smoke and flame like stained glass, birds hung like a child's mobile. Everything was as motionless as a painting. Faint warbling echoes of distant commotion dances across the air.

A man lay in the dirt staring up at the sky, vision blurry he blinks attempting to focus. He rolled to his left side placing the right hand on the ground to push himself up. Once he was on his feet he took a step forward seeing the strange landscaped but a pain shot through his chest. He clutched himself, staggering and letting out a sharp pained breath that turned to a cough. As the hacking died down a voice came from seemingly every direction at once. “That’ll pass.” the voice said, causing the man’s eyes to shoot open and start looking for the source of the voice.

The man on reflex reached for his sword, feeling nothing where it once hung, not even an empty scabbard. Panic set in as he realised he was unarmed and he saw a flash of movement pass between two wisps of smoke.

“You know what they say. You can’t take it with you.” the voice seemed to answer an unasked question.

“Who are you?” the man asked.

“That’s a good question.” the voice said.

“And?” The man asked.

“Oh… I never said I would answer. I just said it was a good question.” the voice said, sounding closer.

The man turned in a small circle, “Can you at least tell me what’s going on?”

“Another great question.” the voice said.

“Let me guess, that you won’t answer?” the man asked.

“Oh a sassy one.” the voice quipped “I had planned to answer it.”

“Then get on with it.” the man said, clearly losing his patience.

“You.” the voice began, and the man suddenly jumped as a hand clasped his shoulder. “Are dead.”

The man spun on his around to see a fairly tall elven figure, that without previously hearing the voice he guessed came from this person would be hard to tell right away if it were a man or woman given their soft skin and fey-like features. He took a step back. “You’re lying.”

The elf sighed. “See for yourself.” he said gesturing to the place the man was lying in a few minutes ago, and into view materialised the body of the man, eyes lifeless looking at the sky. “Grim business. Pun not intended.” he said, stepping away from the man, and over to the body of the man. “Eeeh.” They said kneeling, “Never get used to that.” He placed a hand over the man’s face and closed his eyes. “Ew…” they said standing, wiping the hand on their clothes. “You know, most carrion birds start with the eyes.”

“That’s my body!” the man shouted. “And you are talking about it like it's nothing.”

“Because it is. Now it is anyway.” He shrugged. “Might have been worth something at some point but we can’t all be winners. Take it from me.” the elf said as they began to walk off, “I’d suggest you follow, you don’t want to get lost.

“What does that mean?” the man asked, chasing after svelte elf.

“Hmm?” the elf asked, “Which part, the part about being worthless, the part about being a winner or the part about getting lost?”

“All three?” the man asked.

The elf sighed, “You are dead, so that thing…” he gestured back vaguely the way they’d come from, “Doesn’t have any value anymore, least not in a literal sense. Could and probably will have sentimental value for a while, but you’ll get over it.” the elf said, “Second part I can answer both with one answer. You get lost and you end up doing this job or stop existing.”

The man scratched his head, “I have to do the guiding souls thing?” he asked, “That doesn’t seem too bad.” he said, “When do you, you know, get to stop?”

“That's the fun part…” the elf said in a blase tone. “You don’t.”

“So…” the man paused, “They punish you for being late?”

The elf rolled his shoulders, “It’s a bit more complicated than that but no it's not really a punishment pre say. More a flaw in the system that is the afterlife.”

“So…” the man said again, dragging out the word much to the elf’s annoyance. “You just wander the living world forever taking souls somewhere you’ll never get to go?”

The elf shrugged again. “Given my track record I’m probably better off here doing this. From what I hear The Nine Hell’s are quite balmy this time of year.” the elf said clearly meaning to make a joke but their hostile monotone killed it once it was past his lips. “But that’s not to say it’s wholly impossible,” he added. “Can’t tell you for certain there’s a few rumours about an old guy that managed it, but that was way before my time, and the person who told me, she is reliable enough but there's no telling how far down the grapevine she heard it.” he said.

“So you don’t know if it’s true?” the man asked.

The elf closed his eyes and bit back a response, letting a less hostile one slip by “Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions.”
The man laughed. “All the time, So you don’t know if it's true?” he asked again, putting emphasis on “don't” as if it would get the elf’s attention more.

“Can we just walk in silence for a while?” the elf pretended to ask, but it was more a declaration that he was done with answering questions for now.

After walking for what felt like hours the elf stopped in his tracks, “Time for a rest.” he said sitting down on the grass.

“I’m not even a little tired, can't we keep going? If we’re on a time limit, shouldn't we be walking I don’t know faster?”

“Not about being tired.” the elf said curtly. “It's about being bored. You can still be bored, and I am, so sit.”

Once they’d finally sat down, the man was silent for only a few moments. “Can you at least tell me your name?” he asked, “I’m Presley, for what it's worth.”

The elf sighed. “Aenwyn.”

The two rested for maybe half an hour perhaps slightly more before Aenwyn rose to his feet, and waved for Presley to follow. “Come on.” he said, “We don’t have time to waste unless you want a new job.” Aenwyn added as he started walking. After a moment of hesitation Presley followed.

TBC