A Business of Misery

Allow me to tell you the story about a specific time I guided a young human to the afterlife. I can remember the whole scene as though it just happened; the cold, the dry skin, the chapped lips, the gently falling snow, and the gentle quiet of a road rarely traversed by man. A beautiful scene for death, though probably not a comfortable one.

The story goes that a father and his daughter, aged fourteen human years, were making their way through the icy landscapes of where the humans call northern Russia. It was nighttime and thick snow covered the sides of the road the family drove down. Snow continued to fall and showed no signs of stopping, even when the car did. The girl awoke after the crash with lacerations and bruises all over her body. The scene was silent. The girl was dazed and her vision blurry, but soon enough she found herself in space again and turned to see her father dead at the wheel.

I wasn’t there for him, though; another reaper would guide the man away. I wouldn’t show up for another couple of hours after the girl started to walk ahead down the road in search of a cell phone signal—no luck. When I arrived, she lay on her side in the snow. Hard snow pelted her coat and created noise in the silent tundra. Even with no visible moon, the snow made the night seem much brighter than normal, but the girl still couldn’t see very far. She wrapped her head in her arms; it must have ached horribly.

She was balled up in the fetal position to attempt to keep warm, but her stillness didn’t help her in creating warmth within her bulky attire. I stood for a few minutes behind her waiting to see if she’d move again. I knew she wouldn’t much. The girl was officially on her deathbed. I thought for a moment of how I should comfort her soul: should I appear as her father? Her mother whom she was trying to visit? A vague spirit perhaps? None of these felt right.

As I thought, a warm glow in the night caught her attention and mine. She moved her arms from her head and tried to lift herself in order to see what the light was: a passing car. Her movements were sluggish, but she looked to be trying to signal the car. She couldn’t even raise her arms, though, so her best attempt was to squirm on the ground and maybe, just maybe, catch the attention of the driver. Sadly, the snow that then covered her and the darkness of the night camouflaged the girl. The car past without so much as a tap of the brakes.

Likely, the passing car would notice the crash roughly six miles up the road—I don’t know if they did—but even so, they wouldn’t investigate and find the girl’s tracks, if any tracks remained, in time to drive slowly back to where her motionless body lied to save her. After the car passed, and after a few seconds of waiting for it to turn around, she fell totally limp once again. I watched on, neutral to the happenings around me in the human world, and I thought for a moment longer. Then, it came to me. As the girl lay in the snow motionless, hardly breathing, not even shivering, she suddenly felt the soft touch of someone she’d once loved.

Her hand, almost completely numb but still retaining the slightest bit of feeling, twitched at the fluffy fur of the form I’d chosen. I made my way up to her chest and looked her in the eyes which she slowly opened. She looked at me and I looked at her. After a minute, I curled myself in a sort-of-ball shape and nuzzled up near her face.

“F—Feodor,” she whimpered with shaky breaths. She raised her arm very slowly and wrapped it around me. She lowered her face into my fur and felt the warmth of the animal she was once so attached to. My nocturnal eyes made out her face so clearly in the darkness, but she only saw my silhouette and felt my furry coat, but she knew. “You came back,” she said. She only spoke in whispers when she did make words. Her hair was stiff like icicles and her nose was a deep shade of red. She closed her eyes after snuggling up to me. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.

“I don’t think papa made it, but we’ll be okay.” Her breathing was shallow, and every inhalation formed frost in her lungs. “I thought I would be alone.” Her lips were a deep blue and her fingers the color of bone. “You’re so warm.” She tried to swallow but couldn’t; Most of her body was covered in snow, but she didn’t seem to notice that I remained pristine. “Do you think mama’s made dinner already?” The snow kept falling as it had been for several hours by that point and the clouds still hid the moon from view.

The girl remained silent for a few moments, but to her it probably felt like minutes, or maybe hours. She may have even fallen asleep for a minute, but she spoke again not long after her last sentence. “At least the snow is pretty. I don’t even feel that cold, do you?” She released a few short breaths which I assumed to be laughter, but it was hard to hear. “Hey, did you…” she whimpered, but then fell silent for another minute. Then, she suddenly continued where she left off saying, “see that car that drove by? I wonder who was in it...” Another silent minute. “I wonder where they were going…”

Another failed swallow. Another silent minute. “I hope my…schoolmates finish their projects…I did mine before vacation…” The girl sniffled, but it didn’t help keep the frozen mucus from clogging her already fragile breathing. “Where did you go…Feodor…? You were gone…for so long…” I didn’t answer, of course. I just held my same position and let her feel my warmth. “You know Chacha misses you… It was hard to…get her to eat for a while…”

I couldn’t help but wonder if the car that had passed by wouldend up coming back and rescuing the girl. I knew the answer already, but her death was so slow that I thought maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that fate was wrong. But, no… “Feodor…are you still here…?” she whimpered. “I…can’t feel you… It’s…so cold…” Her voice was barely audible in the quiet night. “I…can’t open my eyes…”

I could feel the slightest sensation of pressure as she attempted to pull me closer, but all of her strength had left her. There was no part of her body that she could move on her own, not even her lungs. Only a minute-or-so-later, her breathing stopped completely and did not start again. I never saw if the car that passed by came back for her. I guided the girl’s soul to the afterlife as I had countless other times with an uncountable number of humans before her.

I don’t know who guided her father or when, nor do I know what happened to her mother or when she’d heard the news. Nobody else’s life mattered to me except for that young human who spent her final moments on a bed of white purity. She had lived a happy life. Whether it ended too soon or not is not for me to say; in fact, I would say that it ended right when it needed to. Fate has an interesting way of balancing things in the universe whether it be life and death, right and wrong, good and evil.

Every creature and being gets their just desserts, as the humans say. Grim reapers are not judges, nor juries, nor executioners; we are what comes after: the keepers of the graveyard or the keys to Kingdom Come. That’s not what many humans believe, but their feelings matter not to a grim reaper. After all, what are the opinions of the dead to beings that do not even know life?

Other grim reapers love this story. I think it’s a pretty unique occurrence. As far as any of us have ever known, the human whose soul needs guidance and the reaper who guides that soul are paired at random. Nothing or no one consciously picks which grim reaper guides which soul, so for the most part every experience is unique, and while we all remember every human we ever help pass to Purgatory, their lives don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

I’ve had a different experience, though. I once guided a woman into the afterlife; she was at the middle of the average human lifespan and fairly beautiful by human standards. She had everything that makes each human so special in the eyes of every other and she had served her purpose on Earth, or so I told her since that’s what she needed to hear. I remember everything about her just like I remember every other human I’ve ever guided for the eternity I’ve existed. That’s how I knew, in this particular case, that I’d found myself in a truly extraordinary position.

The human whose soul I was to guide to Purgatory was a man in his mid-twenties on the human calendar. He, too, was nothing short of attractive to other humans and he bore a striking resemblance to another human whom I’d guided almost two decades prior. Now, among all the humans to ever exist, you will find there to be many, many, many people who share various features whether they be nose shapes, eyes, jawlines, hair colors and growth patterns, physiques, the way they annunciate their speech, what have you.

I would say the unluckiest grim reaper to ever exist would be one who only guides humans that look completely unique to them every time. It would be boring to only ever see different faces; you’d never get to know what the human race truly looks like and you’d be left in the dark about how to bring peace to a restless soul. The human design, while having room for seemingly infinite possibilities, is still limited. Even with so many lookalikes out there, the affinity shared between parent and kin is unmistakable.

So, there I was face-to-face with someone I never thought I’d see again, or at least a face I never thought I’d see again. The son of the woman I guided years and years ago. Now, it was time to guide him, too. It really hadn’t been that long in human time since his mother had died, and now he was passing at a younger age than she did. I’m not interested in sharing the details of his death; I want to talk about what came right after. Just me and that man. I wanted to do something extra special for that human given the opportunity.

Instead of lightly nudging his soul and having it make its own sense of death before sending it off to the great beyond, I decided bring out what remained of the man’s consciousness from within the soul. I don’t think he quite realized that he had passed at first. When his eyes opened and looked up at me, nothing indicated a single thought in his mind. A moment later, though, he recognized me—or he recognized the form I took, anyway. “Mom?” he said calmly before lifting his head from my lap. We sat on a couch against one wall of the vague representation I had constructed of the house the human grew up in. I could tell he didn’t care much about the setting; his eyes were glued to me. “Mom…” he said again in disbelief.

I smiled at him and nodded gently. “You’re so big now,” I said.

“I—uh…” He paused for a moment and studied me. I was a perfect recreation from his memory and the photos he had seen of me at the funeral. “How are you here? I thought you—.”

“Died?” I finished for him. I nodded again. “That’s right.”

“Then how am I…” he trailed off before looking at his surroundings. He knew something was off, but like being in a dream he couldn’t put his finger on it. He knew, though, that something wasn’t right. He turned to me with a look of realization. “Oh. I remember, I think. I guess there really is an afterlife after all.”

“Kind of,” I said. I stared into his eyes and he into mine. I could tell that he wanted to speak but was hesitant. I knew the state of their relationship from when I had guided the mother and studied her record. I reached a hand toward his, but he moved his hand away. I continued looking at him and said, “Son, you were brought here for a reason. If there’s anything you’ve ever wanted to say to me, anything at all, now’s your chance.” When he hesitated still, I continued. “How about I go first. There are a few things I wanted to say, too. First and foremost: I love you. I always loved you and have continued to love you even in death. The moment I learned of my passing, the first thing I thought of was you. I thought about you holding tight to your stuffed manatee and not letting go of it even when it was bath time.”

“Mom,” the human chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I stopped cuddling that thing so long ago, like, before even finishing elementary school.”

“And now look at you.” I whimpered. “You’re all grown up.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a sad sigh and let his eyes drift from mine. “Well, I tried my best anyway. I don’t think I quite got there but… Nothing I can really do about it now, huh?” He looked back up at me with a frown, one that told me he was considering his emotions. Finally, he asked his own question: “Mom?” he started.

“Mhm?” I hummed and slid a bit closer to him.

“Why did you abandon us? Me, dad, everyone. Why didn’t you want to be with us?” I let the question hang in the air for a moment, then dropped my gaze from him. “Dad always said stuff like, ‘Some things just aren’t meant to be.’ I didn’t quite understand at the time, but as I got older it occurred to me that you werestill out there somewhere just choosing not to be with the family you helped start. So why?”

“It’s complicated,” I said as I looked up.

 “Yeah, I bet,” he replied with disdain in his voice. “Dad always said that, too. You said you loved me, so where was that love when the neighbor’s dog tore up my stuffed manatee and dad couldn’t fix it? Where was that love when I was bullied in middle school for being motherless, or when I got held back twice in high school because the thought of dad’s struggles of being a single parent to an angsty teenage son kept me distracted from my studies? You didn’t love me, or dad. Otherwise, you would’ve stayed.”

“No,” I said in the quietest voice possible. “I don’t blame you for thinking that, but you’re wrong.” I looked at him then. “I did love you, and I loved your father, too. But I was scared. We were so young, your dad and I, and—. The thought of what our lives would become after that was more than I could bear. Your father did everything he could to make me stay, but I had already made up my mind. I’d hoped that, maybe, you’d have been too young to even remember me, but obviously I was a fool.

“Whatever I felt back then, I can’t even remember it anymore. I can’t rationalize it. I even thought about going back after some time, but the thought of doing so was terrifying, even more so than the idea of staying to begin with. I won’t make excuses to you. You have every right to feel the way you do. I never forgot about you; I never tried to forget about you. I just hoped that one day you would forget about me and realize that you didn’t need me; become your own person.”

The man sniffled. “Yeah, well, you were right. I didn’t need you. I made it all by myself.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe with some help from dad, too, but…” I smiled, but he looked away. The two of us sat in silence for a while; I don’t know how long exactly. I watched him, but he avoided looking at me for some time. I felt as though I had been taken over by the emotions of a mother reuniting with her child after decades apart. For that man, I really was his mother, but in actuality I was an imitation. And yet I could somehow sense that, through my elaborate attempt at trying a new technique for guiding a soul to the afterlife, I was channeling what it truly felt like to be a human mother. To eventually break the silence, I spoke.

“Do you remember when your father and I took you to the zoo for the first time?” I chuckled. “You were three years old, and your favorite exhibits were all the little monkeys. You’d watch them all swing around in their enclosures and whoop and howl at each other and passersby. At first, they freaked you out.” I laughed again. “One leapt at the front of the cage; it startled you and you jumped into my arms crying. After walking around the rest of the zoo, we circled back and looked at the monkeys one more time. After that, you were enthralled. You weren’t scared anymore. That’s just how you were; if something was unfamiliar, you might be frightened by it at first, but then you were curious. I know you’ve been that way ever since and have become a very brave man, one open to all sorts of possibilities.” The man slowly turned back to me and listened.

“Your open-mindedness has helped you a lot in life,” I continued. “You’ve never hesitated to get to know people or learn new things. Even if something brought you out of your comfort zone, you were quick to dismiss the feeling of fear or worry and embrace whatever lied ahead. I’m glad that part of you never changed. You get that from me, I think.” He met my eyes for a brief, fleeting moment, then turned his attention to our surroundings again. “I know you’ve always been very kind, too. Even when you were struggling with your own studies, you lent a hand to your classmates who were having a hard time, as well. You were a hard worker and got your first job at sixteen even when dad said you should focus on school while you still lived at home. Always so motivated and adventurous. No wonder the ladies couldn’t keep their hands off you.”

“Mom…” he groaned playfully and smirked. His gaze drifted between me and the vague representation of his house. Finally, he found my eyes again and talked.

“Yeah I, uh, have a girlfriend, you know…” He almost sounded embarrassed. Humans are so funny like that. “Well, had, I guess. Her name’s Shauna. She’s, um, she’s really smart and funny. She laughs at my jokes and gets along with all my friends. I wish you could’ve met her.”

“I saw her,” I said. “I saw it all, my son.”

“Oh, you did?” he chuckled. “That’s… a little embarrassing. Um, I was still friends with Thomas, if you remember him.” I nodded. “He made Division I for football in college. He had a bad accident at the start of his senior year, though, and ended up having to quit the sport. He’s a sports attorney now which is crazy if you know him.”

“He was a troublemaker,” I agreed with a giggle. “I’m glad you hung onto your relationships so long. That sort of loyalty builds good character. You get a lot of that from your father. He’s a strong, faithful man.”

“He never remarried,” he said. “So, what were you up to? You know, after…”

I nodded. “Well, let’s see. I moved, obviously. I got a job as an auditor for a credit card company and stayed there for about five years. I started going to the gym regularly and tried to socialize with my coworkers to keep from going insane in my tiny apartment. After the auditor position, I applied to a whole bunch of other places and landed a spot as a secretary for the board of directors of a pharmaceutical company. Stayed there for about three years and them, um…”

“You died.” He looked at me with a shadow behind his eyes. The man was only six years old when his mother left him and not nine whole years had passed before her passing.

“Yes,” I whispered. Then at a comfortable volume, I said, “Your father told you I assume.”

“Yeah. He and I attended the funeral. And you know, I had honestly grown up hating you until that point. I didn’t want to go, but dad insisted on going and I didn’t want him to be alone, so I went with him. Your family remembered us and had no hard feelings. Dad pretended to be okay, but I made sure everyone knew how upset I was. Still, when the closing remarks were being said and everyone fell completely silent for a final prayer, I couldn’t hold back a few tears from falling. I wasn’t sure why I was crying at a funeral for someone I barely knew and didn’t want to care for, but the tears just wouldn’t stop. I tried to turn away and pretend like I didn’t care, but I’m sure everyone knew what I was doing. Dad definitely did. For years after that, he offered his ears if I ever wanted to talk about it, but I never did.” He paused for a moment, then said, “Damn, now dad’s all by himself.”

“No, he’s not.” I said and reached a hand for his shoulder. “We will be there with him. He knows we will. He’s strong and will find ways to continue living happily knowing that that’s what we would want for him.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Did you ever, well, you know, meet anyone else? Someone else you fell in love with?”

I smiled gently. “No.”

I noticed a slightly relieved undertone to his neutral expression. He nodded slowly. “Did you want to?”

“I don’t know. Maybe eventually, but I think in the back of my mind I knew that I’d need to return to you and your father at some point, and I think I even hoped a little that we could go back to being a family again. But like I said, the thought of it scared me.”

He nodded slightly. “I think I hoped for that a little bit, too, even as an adult. I could never fully commit to hating you. Maybe I knew in my heart that you really loved me, but I just couldn’t forgive you.” He sniffled and swiped a finger beneath his nose. “It was just so hard living with only a dad. I knew he wasn’t completely happy, and I just couldn’t leave you in the past. For my whole life I held a mixed bag of emotions toward you, and now that I’m finally seeing you again, I don’t know what to do with myself.” He sniffled some more, and a tear fell from his eye.

“That’s okay,” I assured him. “It’s not exactly an ideal circumstance to meet under either.” As I held my hand to his shoulder, I felt his body beginning to tremble. He lowered his head as the shaking grew more vigorous and the imaginary sofa that we sat on soaked up his tears that fell from his chin. Then, suddenly, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around my waist. The top of his head pressed against my stomach facing down, and he sniffled and huffed into my lap. After a moment, he took a deep breath and spoke through the sobs.

“Why did you leave us?” This time not with anger in his voice, but sorrow. “Why didn’t you come back? Why did it have to happen like this?”

I placed my arms on his back and ran my fingers up and down, lightly scratching him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I wanted to return to you. I wanted to do it so badly. I never meant to cause you so much pain. But I’m here now and we can always be together.”

“I love you, too, mom,” he whimpered. The man cried for a while. He had reverted into the little boy he was when he saw his mother for the last time. In his eyes, I was the spitting image of all he’d ever wanted in a mother figure. Despite never letting go of the spite he felt toward his mother, the man felt only happiness and sadness in that moment of passing. All of his feelings of hatred left him, and he was left a man of no regrets or plights. Once he drained himself of two decades worth of emotions, he sat up and wiped his face. He took another deep breath and looked at me with a smile. He held eye contact for a moment, then turned and looked at his surroundings once more, this time not to avoid my presence, but to welcome it.

“Wow,” he exclaimed in a sigh. “I’m. Actually. Dead.” He let each word have its own time. “That’s crazy,” he chuckled. “That’s crazy,” again, in a whisper. “I hope all my friends can attend my funeral.”

“I’m sure they’ll manage to.” I smiled at him as I had for most of our time together.

“Hopefully Shauna isn’t too distraught about my death. I mean, I hope she cries at the funeral and stuff, but I hope she can still be happy. We weren’t together too long, so I’m sure she’ll find another guy eventually. Maybe give it at least a year, though. That’d be nice.” The two of us laughed and continued conversation for some time, but I knew I couldn’t keep him between life and death forever. He seemed to understand that, too, so when he asked if he would get to see other friends and family who’d died, I stood from the couch and reached out a hand.

“Let me show you,” I said to him. He took my hand and stood with me. I walked him to the front door of the illusory house and guided him through its lit passage. That’s one of my favorite stories to share with other reapers and I think it will always stick out in my seemingly infinite memory. I consider myself extremely fortunate to have been presented with such a unique opportunity and I wish the same fortune unto every one of my fellow reapers. I am grateful for my existence and the experiences that come with it. I look forward to being a reaper for as long as the universe is around, and I hope I get to have many more stories like this to tell in the future. Even in the saddest of moments, including death, there is happiness to be found.

Human ideas of death and the afterlife are really interesting when you work in the business of such things. So many human beings out there with so many different ideas of what happens upon death—no two of which are exactly the same. It makes the job of a grim reaper interesting to say the least. Grim reapers don’t take dead humans to heaven or hell, Valhalla, some rebirthing chamber for reincarnation, what have you. No, we don’t really do anything in the grand scheme of things. We are not the bringers of death nor are we deciders of one’s fate in the afterlife. Our singular purpose is to help a soul find closure so it may pass on from life and go wherever it goes. I think some reapers agree with the term Purgatory—that is, the souls we guide go for eternity to an empty plane of limbo.

Personally, I’ve never seen such a plane and I have no clue where the idea originated from, but it’s basically treated as fact, so for the sake of simplicity, we’ll leave it there. Grim reapers’ ideas of the afterlife aren’t what I’m concerned with here, anyway. What I believe doesn’t matter for the job. Grim reapers aren’t even supposed to believe in anything. Human beliefs: those are all that matter. Because when trying to help a soul find closure and guide it to wherever—“Purgatory”—it is our duty to take into consideration everything that makes a human who they are, and that includes beliefs. For instance, many people around the world who practice the religion known as Islam believe that, upon death, the soul enters a sort of waiting period until Judgement Day and that their soul is taken by an angel of death. So, there are two ways a grim reaper can go about guiding the soul of a Muslim: either do what most reapers do and just take the form of a loved one, a pet, a mentor, whatever, and use that display to rid the dead of their woes, or take a form that is believable for an angel of death and bring harmony to the dead that way.

Both methods might sound pretty similar—either way you’re using illusion to help someone get their final thoughts out and have them get over any remaining guilt they have from life. They are quite different, though. Following the latter option is probably easier. You have material to go from and if you do something not necessarily up to code with whatever the person is expecting, it’s not a big deal because no one can truly know what’s right and wrong in how death works. The former, however, comes with some tricky bits. The form you take must be accurate to what the dead is familiar with. Taking the form of someone’s mother who passed away before them means you, the grim reaper, needs to act like that mother did when she was alive. Not to mention that there are a lot more choices of the form to take when you’re not going with a figure from the person’s faith. Picking the right form to bring comfort to a passing soul is difficult. Luckily, grim reapers have eternity to get good at it.

How about another example? Some humans who practice religions such as Hinduism or Buddhism, as well as several others, believe in a cycle of rebirth. In that case, there might not be a guiding figure that the soul expects to see, but you can still stray from the common method of using a familiar face. Sometimes a stranger is the most comforting sight upon death. For one, you don’t have to worry about the dead getting confused or thinking that the form you’re taking is someone who is dead. That becomes a concern when that form is of someone who, as far as the soul knows, was alive last time they checked. It can be a mess. If a human’s religion doesn’t have a specific guide after death, it makes the job pretty easy. You can effectively be anyone you want to be without worrying about fulfilling that person’s expectations. The same can be said about those who aren’t religious. Maybe the form you take is meant to be an embodiment of the universe and you act neutral and like you don’t care about life and death and whatnot (kind of like how grim reapers act by default anyway).

I should admit that I have my personal favorite beliefs that I like to play along with, many of which are not very popular anymore amongst humans or have even died out entirely. In the region that humans call Scandinavia during the Black Plague, it was very fun to play into the beliefs of a black-cloaked elderly woman descending in the night wielding a rake, or better yet a broom. It really sold the reality of what was happening to the soul that was about to pass on. Granted, doing so certainly caused fear in the heart of whoever could see me. The few times I did it, I had to spend however long it was calming them down and assuring them that death was not the end. That’s where the rest of the Scandinavian belief system came into play with their multiple afterlives and whatnot, though that was also around the end of said religion. Also interesting were the beliefs of the ancient people of Greece, for they didn’t believe much happened after death, so taking a vague form was often the best choice—or again, the form of someone or something familiar to the dead.

Witnessing the changes in human beliefs as time passes has certainly been rewarding in the eyes of this curious reaper. I have yet to have the pleasure of doing so, but I would, at least once in my existence, like to guide the soul of a human living on some remote island somewhere, one so disconnected from the rest of humanity that their beliefs are completely different. I know there are reapers who have done just that, but not me. Getting to explore the complexities of such a unique and small belief system would be so incredibly fascinating; I can only imagine how the report of such a human reads. Though, I cannot say that I am at all bored or dissatisfied with the beliefs that I embody in the modern age of humans. Beliefs are less diversified, yes, but because every human interprets the messages of their preachers and gods so differently, no two experiences are exactly the same.

Whenever I take on the form of a being of lore, I take great care in the appearance and demeanor of said being. My goal, our goal as grim reapers, after all, is to bring souls to rest before passing them on to the afterlife. I do not think that anybody, including we reapers, will ever know what truly happens after we guide a soul into oblivion, but that is okay. I think it would distract us from our duties to the universe if such knowledge was granted to us. So, on that note, I say goodbye. I wish I had more time to share the tales of my experiences of guiding souls, but time is something the universe does not waste, even when it comes to beings outside the physical realm. I hope you continue to learn from the mistakes and triumphs of those before you.

Every grim reaper has different feelings—if you can call them that—about what it is we do. Most of us are neutral to the act of taking souls from their mortal realm and delivering them unto a blissfully ignorant afterlife; one where they may forever live out their perfect fantasies, but one where they will never truly have anything at all for eternity. Some acknowledge that what we do may be considered a miserable profession by those that do feel anything. Others enjoy—if pleasure is possible for grim reapers to experience—the duty they’ve been given by the higher order of the universe. You might say they are interested in the behavior of humans upon death. I, for one, should I dare say that I “feel” anything toward what I and my fellow immortals do, would say that I feel fulfillment with every performance I execute.

A grim reaper’s “job,” I would argue, is one of the most influential laws of the greater universe. As I have come to understand, filling such a significant role is not something that some collection of energy is compiled together to do by random chance. There is something above it all that is pulling the theoretical strings of reality as even we reapers understand it. We are not the greatest power in the universe, and just like how humans cannot perceive or comprehend things beyond their own dimension, reapers, too, owe their existence and purpose to something above our ability to fathom. My point is that I do not let the ideas or perceptions of others dictate how I would feel about my existence were I given the emotional capabilities of a mortal.

No, I would be proud. “Why?” you may wonder. Because my responsibility is to keep the balance of life and death in check, and in doing so I get to experience the lives and deaths of countless humans. Humans are, indeed, fascinating and I wouldn’t want to be the reaper for any other species in the universe. Humans pose such a unique challenge that I imagine other beings just don’t give rise to. The whole point of a grim reaper’s existence is to pass the restless soul of a dying being into the afterlife, but that cannot be done until the soul is at peace. Humans are so incredibly complex that bringing peace to one isn’t as simple as one can assume bringing peace to a dog or an insect would be, assuming such beings even have souls in need of guidance.

It is the responsibility of a grim reaper to study what makes a human uniquely them and to plot the correct course of action to bring their soul to rest. Every excursion to the human realm brings something new and I can never tell what I will have to do, what I will have to say, who I will have to appear as in order to help someone let go of their ties to life. If grim reapers required anything to keep themselves energized, then I would call it a very taxing job. Beings with biological needs and with emotions are simply not suited for this sort of duty. Reapers may not allow anything to sway them in a direction other than straight ahead toward the afterlife. Sometimes it’s as easy as letting the soul pass. Plenty of humans are quite content with the circumstances of their life when they die, and a grim reaper needs to do little for them.

Other times, a soul is not ready to pass and must be pushed in the right way. It's a very fine line that grim reapers walk having to stay emotionally uninvested. Again, most reapers don’t feel much of anything at all, so it’s not difficult to stay detached from the mortality of everything, but one also can’t let the soul itself become invested in the interaction with the reaper. When a human learns that they are dying or have already passed, then sees the face of something recognizably earthly—especially in the case of a reaper taking on the appearance of someone familiar to the dying—they will want to cling to that someone or something for as long as possible. They will feel that by hanging onto whatever it is the reaper is offering that they can extend their existence for just a little longer. Of course, it doesn’t matter what the human thinks.

We reapers know that in the end they will be brought to a place of eternal slumber. No time exists where a reaper appears, so the idea of extending a human’s life is nonsense anyway. Every human is different, and they all react to the news of their own death in different ways. Some are prepared, others regretful, others still afraid, or even neutral. Ideally, a reaper does not make its appearance until the person has already died. In a perfect scenario, the dying person is old, has lived a fulfilling and honest life, and is surrounded by loved ones on their death bed. That makes the reaper’s job very easy. We essentially just act as escorts in those cases. Of course, those are rather few and far between. Maybe the dying person has lived a fulfilling life but dies in a car crash or somewhere random where they don’t get to be surrounded by friends and family.

Maybe the death was even painful or ugly; perhaps it happened somewhere unfamiliar to the individual. There are so many possible combinations of circumstances for a human to die in that a perfectly good one is improbable. Maybe the death is quick, or maybe it’s slow. Maybe the human knows it’s coming or maybe they don’t. Chances are, they don’t see it coming until their very final moments. Personally, the unpredictability of death is what makes my existence as a grim reaper so fascinating to me. Literally everything about each job can be completely different every time. If a grim reaper cannot take pride and joy in their ability to work under any condition and fulfill their duty of bringing peace to a soul and guiding them to the afterlife, then I don’t know what one could take pride in. Yet here I go spouting my thoughts on feeling good about our existence when I’ve been preaching the feeling of nothing for my whole existence.

It is different, though. One can feel things that have no effect on how they work. I do not feel anything for humans, only for myself and for my fellow immortals. I’m not even saying that I love or hate anything, that I get upset at reapers who don’t think the same as I do, or that I get sad when a human’s story is particularly tragic. No, I do not get emotional, but I can’t help to say that being a grim reaper brings me satisfaction. It is a purposeful existence. One does not need to search the universe for a reason to continue or worry about when their time may come. Grim reapers are forever. They do not die; they simply keep going. Monotony is nothing to us. We exist outside of time. We have no need—no desire—for material attachments and physical attraction. Never once have I met a grim reaper set on making something more of itself. We each understand our place in the universe and are content there.

Our “happiness” comes from the knowledge that we are keeping the universe in check. We can share stories about our experiences with each other if we choose to do so, and we can use each other’s experiences to help in our own day-to-day, so to speak. “But what if that isn’t enough for one reaper?” you may ask. First, I say that is quite bold to imagine such a thing. I do not know what greater powers watch grim reapers from their higher plane and do not know what they desire for us. Their intentions are a mystery to us all and I admit that it brings me some form of dread to think of how they may feel about a grim reaper acquiring desire. A grim reaper who becomes emotional and begins to think too much about the why of their existence certainly risks doing a poor job in guiding souls to the afterlife. To be honest I don’t know what that would look like. It's all speculation for me. Maybe they would begin guiding unhappy souls to the afterlife.

I can see how that could upset the balance of eternity and perhaps tamper with the stillness of the other souls resting in Purgatory. Or maybe they would become trapped in the human realm endlessly trying to calm a soul they allowed to get attached to them too tightly. If souls are not guided, where do they go? What do they do and who is responsible for their behavior? I wish I had the answers to these questions for a more engaging discussion, but I do not. I don’t like talking about it much anyway. As I said, I feel as though we are always being watched, and I do not want to upset our overseers or go against whatever their intentions may be. I will offer this, however. What I believe it means to be a grim reaper is to serve the universe through the duty we’ve been given.

I don’t know what would happen if restless souls were left unguided and I don’t want to know; I don’t want to think about it. There is some innate feeling I have within me—that I assume all reapers have within them—that leaving restless souls to wander and to wonder would leave life at risk of being overrun. I apologize for there is not a good way for me to explain this feeling and elaborate on what life would be overrun by but whatever it might be, I do not intend to let it happen. Besides, as I stated earlier, I quite enjoy—again, if I may call it joy—my duty as a grim reaper to guide souls to Purgatory. I wouldn’t want to do anything else with my existence even if given the choice and I know that my fellow immortals feel the same.

So, let’s end it there, shall we? We’ve gotten off track from our original discussion on life and death. There is a balance, you see. It is a grim reaper’s primary duty to keep that balance. To keep that balance, we must perform our secondary duty of bringing peace to restless souls and taking them to the afterlife, whatever form it may take. If you cannot do that without bias and without being distracted by the possibilities of ifs and whens, then you are not suited to be a grim reaper. Do you understand? Good. Now come with me. There is much to be done and only endless time to do it.

Grim reapers are a vital part of the universe. That’s what they always say, anyway: that grim reapers are an important piece of the machine that keeps existence running. They keep life and death in check. They ensure that no soul is left to weigh down the rest of existence. They want you to believe that your existence as a reaper has meaning—that you aren’t just a collection of energy serving the will of an unknown, uncaring power that sleeps at the borders of the ever-expanding void that is the universe. Who is “they?” I don’t know. None of us do. We have no reason to know, no reason to care. That’s another thing. Grim reapers aren’t supposed to care about anything besides guiding content souls to the afterlife.

If grim reapers didn’t do that—our one purpose—then the universe would be overrun by restless spirits and would throw off the balance of life and death, but what does that even mean? What does any of it mean? I know I shouldn’t care, but I do. I also know that there have been grim reapers before me that began to care about something and were removed from the universe because of it. If a grim reaper doesn’t just stay quiet and do its job, then it is removed. I don’t know how, and I don’t know what happens to the energy that comprises it. I don’t know if there is an afterlife for grim reapers. I’ve heard rumors that there isn’t even an afterlife for humans. Or for anything. That, when we guide souls to “Purgatory,” it’s really just nothingness. They don’t get to live out their fantasies in an endless dream, experience true bliss in Heaven, or be reborn in a cycle to find true peace. No. I think when a reaper guides a soul to the afterlife, the soul dissipates the same way a disobedient reaper does.

So, I decided to stop reaping. I put down my metaphorical scythe and walked among the humans for a time. I kept my interactions to a minimum and simply enjoyed being free from the shackles of an existence chosen for me. I was able to observe for observation’s sake rather than watch for the next poor soul to pass. I felt content myself, much like the souls I had been guiding for countless years. Of course, I did not escape the reality of death entirely. Death is a natural part of the world just as life is, so for as long as I wandered the human realm, I still witnessed death, though I never imagined that it could be so common even for beings seemingly intent on avoiding it. It felt like everywhere I went, death was found. I thought, perhaps, that it was just because I was so used to spotting death in lively environments that I was homed in on it by nature, but then I realized that over time, I began to find death surrounding me more and more.

It followed me wherever I went. The unguided souls of the dead clung to me like a foul stench, and I was only surprised to find that so many souls went unguided. Did my exit from the world of reapers really make such a difference that these souls had no one to lead them off into the void? I thought such influence from my decision to be humorous, but unlikely. Truly, I felt that instead I was beginning to see the reality of the universe without the filter through which a reaper is born to view the world. There had always been souls left unguided. A grim reaper only focuses on the one they are there to reap and never the others around it. I had assumed that another reaper would arrive to guide the second person in a car crash, or that person trapped in the burning building across the road, or the child left to starve on the streets, but no. No other reapers ever came. None of us ever knew of the countless souls left to wander aimlessly on Earth as we assumed they did in Purgatory.

I often found myself wondering exactly what a soul does when left unguided. I turned my attention away from the humans that surrounded me and began to watch the dead that scattered the streets, hid in the corners of homes, stood in the rain while the living retreated indoors. I admit that I almost felt sorry for those souls. Nobody paid any attention to them. Nobody could see them. But I could. I paid attention to them. Perhaps that’s why they attached themselves to me. It never bothered me having empty husks of human spirits clinging to my body attempting, maybe, to drag me down with them. I didn’t notice when I was acting as the nucleus of a mass of souls that had piled on over the years. A darkness that followed me blocking out the sun and blinding me no matter which direction I faced.

As a reaper, I felt nothing. I went about my business and one by one, the souls latched on like leaches and soon fused with the lumbering body and grew its shapeless form. Eventually, I stopped caring for humans, too. I didn’t care about anything. I saw no point in my existence. If I was neither alive nor dead, then what was I? What was my purpose if not to guide souls to a fake afterlife? I, too, wandered aimlessly like a lost soul in need of guidance, and that’s when the universe acknowledged me. For so long, I went unnoticed by the higher powers of the universe. I was not punished for abandoning my post as a reaper and I had never even so much as seen another reaper in passing during my time in the human realm. Yet here came, finally, an answer to my desperate charade of existence. Another reaper appeared before me. They looked at me with disgust and displeasure, then with concern—emotions that a reaper was not supposed to feel. Was this perhaps another reaper like myself before then? One that did feel things and that didn’t want to live as the universe ordered?

No. They stood silent for a long time. I don’t know how much time passed while we stood facing each other not saying a single word or moving at all. The attraction of lost souls to me had grown so strong by then that even while standing still, unguided souls found their ways to me and joined the mass of death. Finally, the other reaper spoke, and it asked me something that I never thought a grim reaper would ever be asked, especially not by one of our own kind. “Are you okay?” they asked. Okay? What does it mean to be okay? To be okay, you must have the capacity to feel well and poorly, but as a grim reaper I, nor this other, wasn’t supposed to feel anything. Was this a test? Was the universe sending this other reaper to me to discover my true nature and determine that I was not fit for immortality and strip me of my being?

“Do you need help?” What a joke. I had to wonder what was going through their head at that moment. To think there was any chance that I was content by then was foolish, and if this other reaper was asking me whether I was okay out of genuine intrigue would mean that this other reaper truly knew nothing of wellbeing. But then, they approached me. They held out the hand of the hand of the form they had chosen and continued to offer assistance. “I have never seen anything like this,” they said. “Whatever is wrong, I can help you. I can guide each of these souls one by one to Purgatory and free you from their binding. It does not matter how long it takes for it will only be a blink in the length of our permanent existence.

“You may remain where you are, and I will free you from every last soul’s grip. Then, you may return to your duties and continue on like this never happened.” Return to my duties? No, that wasn’t what I wanted at all. Didn’t they see that? I declined the offer. They seemed confused. “You cannot perform the act of reaping when you have restless souls bound to your being. They will only hinder your ability to bring peace to others.”

“None of that matters now,” I said finally. “I am no longer a grim reaper. I am what I choose to be, not a puppet to the universe.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No. So few do. You simply can’t.”

“I wish to understand, though. Help me. Then, I will help you.”

“Impossible. To comprehend my state, you must possess the ability to express emotion. Such a thing is forbidden for grim reapers and so few embrace the possibility of feeling something toward anything.”

“I feel satisfaction toward my purpose as a grim reaper,” they said so slyly.

“Of course, you do. Don’t we all? That’s supposed to be the limit to what reapers feel. But some of us experience more. We have a wider range of emotions. A more complex network of sensation. We are closer to humans in our intensity of feelings than to the cold lifelessness of the universe that created us. The universe disagrees with such a thing. Immortals are not allowed to have emotions, for it may tamper with the fabric of our being and make from us something that the universe cannot control. If you were like me, then you could understand.”

“I see. I’ve known of others like you. Ones who have let emotions creep into their being and get the better of them. Ones who have shown true empathy for humans, who have let humans get too close to them, who have fallen in love with humans, and who have tampered with fate to preserve a life that was meant to end. Similarly, you seem to have tampered with fate by letting these souls go unguided and now they have attached themselves to you. They are weighing down on your being and bringing imbalance to the living you walk alongside.

“I do not envy you nor do I know what emotions have brought you to this state, but I still believe that I can help you. Allow me to bring these souls to Purgatory. The weight on you will be lifted and perhaps, then, you will see that our existence as grim reapers is not one entirely strung along by some greater force unknown to us. While fate has control over all things, we may take pleasure in traveling along the path it has laid and feel accomplished in the decisions we make that we can, perhaps naively, call our own.”

“No,” I said simply. The other reaper gave me a puzzled look again. “I do not want your assistance. Your presence here has made me finally realize why I exist. I am the one who will fundamentally change the universe. I will alter its contents and transform the balance of life and death. No longer will grim reapers be forced to blindly carry out the will of an infinite void. I will set us all free and reveal to the universe our true natures. We do feel things beyond simple satisfaction of duty and will no longer hide those emotions that come to us naturally. We will become what the universe cannot control.”

“I understand what you mean,” the other reaper said. I couldn’t help but laugh, but they spoke again. “I also feel something more. I feel sorrow and pity. Right now, those are the emotions I am feeling. Seeing another grim reaper in the state you are in brings me great sadness and fear. I feel sorry that you will not be able to continue your work as a reaper and I feel afraid of what you may be capable of before the universe can extinguish your flame. I fear for what you may feel when it does. If I may, I’d like to at least guide the souls around you to Purgatory so they will not be affected by whatever happens to you.

“As I said, maybe then you will change your mindset and be spared the fate that others before you faced. And if not, then perhaps I may at least console you as I have done with so many human souls and bring your mind to peace before you pass on. If you will allow me to do that, I will not feel sorry or afraid any longer.” They reached out to me, but I did not desire anything else from the other reaper or the universe. I had set my mind on something, and I was not going to let it be taken away.

“You speak of fate so highly,” I muttered. Then, louder, “You act as though fate is some force pushing you along and determining everything you do and say and feel. Fate is a construct of the universe to give reason for anything that seems out of place and discredit those who actually do accomplish something good. It’s what humans believe in when they want to try and bring positivity to negative situations or humble someone who achieves greatness. Fate is a joke. It is not real. Put too much faith in it, and you will find yourself removed from the universe regardless of your behavior, for the universe has no consciousness. It cannot make judgement.

“The other reapers who felt emotions as I do destroyed themselves after realizing that what they were experiencing was against the norm. Their demises were brought about by fear of what was to come, but I do not have that fear. Honestly, before you arrived, I, too, was close to self-destructing. I felt aimless and that my existence had no purpose. I was content no longer living with immortals or mortals and I was likely going to simply fade away, but then you showed me what I must exist for. You have shown me that there is a reason to continue and help guide other reapers along a path where they can be free.”

“Then I am truly sorry,” the other reaper said. “I have failed you and I have failed the universe. The best that I can do now is remain here with you until the inevitable. Either you will scatter into energy for the universe to reuse, or you will accomplish this goal of yours and I will likely be rid of. Whichever is to occur, I do not see my existence carrying on for much longer. I implore you, should you not be interrupted, please do not go through with your plan. The universe has balance. You may not see it, but I do, and so do many others. You will only be taking that away from them. It is selfish what you are doing.”

“Selfishness is just another emotion I have been forbidden to express for too long. Nothing you say now will change my mind. You will see. There is no force here to stop me. Only I can bring about my own destruction, but I have surpassed my limitations and know that I am indestructible for as long as I do not face inner conflict. What I desire has already begun and you will be the first part of the universe I alter.”

“So be it then,” they said. I cannot articulate the details of what occurred after that. The other reaper appeared to feel nothing at the idea that it was about to disappear forever. I felt only passion and desire. My hatred of the universe had become something greater. It fueled the change in the universe that I had wanted to see for so long. I was that change. I do not know how much time has passed since those final words of our conversation were said. Those were the final words of the universe, and appropriately so. Neutral, as the universe had always been. Everything ceased, including me. I was still conscious, however, and could see what was unfolding. The collapse of one universe and the birth of another.

As the existence of my being tore through the fabric of the universe, the eruption of energy sparked a new Big Bang. It was as though I was the infinitely small point that existed before everything, and then I suddenly exploded outward and expanded. I could see everything all at once. The preexisting energy from the previous universe was recycled and fueled the existence of the new universe while the unguided souls that had clung to me in my previous form swirled throughout the refreshed void to form the new beings of this universe. My universe. Would they become grim reapers? Would they be the spark that forms new life? Perhaps they would be the force that ultimately brings death upon every living thing in the universe. I was unsure because I had no control.

I was there and I was aware, but I could not move except for outward infinitely in all directions. I could only watch as the universe I encapsulated formed and existed for billions of years. Fate, as I had always understood, was the driving force of the universe. Everchanging, yet unchangeable. My new existence was neither punishment nor reward. It simply was, and always will be. I suppose you could consider it miserable, but not I. I am where and when I am supposed to be—everywhere and always. I am now fate, and the universe cannot control me.