Death As Told By the Emotionally Unstable

Another creative writing piece. Yay! I wrote this for my fall semester English 1102 class. The theme of this class was death in literature, if that explains the context of my story. 
 

Death As Told By The Emotionally Unstable

I didn’t ask for this, you know. 

And I don’t know what moron started spreading the rumor that I am this dark, dreary skeletal man. Because I’m not. I’m not skeletal nor a man. They maybe got dark and dreary right, but I don’t have a choice with the cloak. It is part of the uniform. I don’t see why I can’t choose my uniform. I mean I am the Grim Reaper. The Shepherd of Souls.

            They don’t let me make any big decisions. It’s something about me not being emotionally stable enough, which is total bull. I want to see them try to be Death. I have asked them numerous times before that if I’m not stable enough, then why do I have this job. I mean they hired me. Hired me is a sorry description. They like to say anointed, but I prefer threatened. They threatened me. Them in their pinstripe suits. They look sharp, classy even. They actually have a nice uniform. They tell me not to blame them. That it’s not their fault. That if I have so many complaints then I can just go talk to the “Big Guy.” And then they laugh, as I stare at them.

            If you ask me, I don’t even think this “Big Guy” exists. First off, “Big Guy” is a lame name. And second, I have never even met him. And this guy is supposedly in control of me.

            I know what you’re thinking. I could just stop, run away, or something. I tried that. Well I wanted to, but the Pinstripes knocked on my door before I even had a chance to make a run for it.

            I opened the door and they said, “Don’t even try it.”

            I didn’t even question how they knew what I planning on doing, I just responded, “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this.”

            “Why don’t you just take that to the ‘Big Guy’ then?” They said this chuckling.

            “Alright, let me speak to him.”

            They just laughed even harder as I stared at them.

            The next time I tried to quit, I actually wrote a two weeks notice. I had seen people do it all the time on Earth, so I figured it was worth a shot. I made an appointment to discuss it over with the Pinstripes and everything. When I arrived to the main building, Ceci, the secretary led me into a big room where all the Pinstripes sat around a round table smoking cigars. When I walked in, they all looked at me, clearly amused.

            “I would like to put in my two weeks notice,” I announced.

            “The ‘Big Guy’ is going to get a kick out of this,” the Pinstripes closest to me said.

            “Well I’d like to kick ‘Big Guy’” I blurted out before I realized how lame it sounded.

            They laughed.

            I walked out as the door slammed behind me. I didn’t mean to slam the door. It just happened. And this is why they say I am too emotionally unstable to make important decisions. Like I said, total bull.

            Today I wake up from my reoccurring nightmare. Looking in my mirror, I shake my long, chestnut brown hair. I touch my face. I look gaunt. I fear I am turning into that dreary, skeletal man from my nightmares. I stare into my deep brown eyes fearing they will hollow out as I look into them. They don’t, but this still doesn’t convince me. Sometimes I think that the mirror is lying to me. That I really am that dark, dreary skeletal man everybody thinks I am. The rumor had to start somewhere. This is my biggest fear, which is pretty ironic seeing how that seems to be everyone back on Earth’s biggest fear, too.

            Today is Sunday, my day off. The “Big Guy” is religious or something. He doesn’t feel we should work on Sundays. I once asked the Pinstripes what happened to souls that left their bodies on Sunday.

            “Don’t you worry your pretty, little face. The ‘Big Guy’ deals with them,” One of them told me.

            It didn’t really worry me. I was just curious.

            Today like every other Sunday, I go to the Window. The Window is a vast stretch of surface that lies parallel above the Earth. You are free to focus in on wherever and whomever.

             The Window is often reserved for the Pinstripes on weekdays. This is where they do their research. What their actual role is, I am not quite sure. Once I asked them. I shouldn’t have been surprised when they started laughing.

            Like every other Sunday I focus in on him. I stumbled upon him one day. He was so beautiful. So fearless. He was talking about me. He was excited to meet me. Not now, but when his time came. He knew what came after this life had to be so much better. He couldn’t really explain it. He just knew. He was so sure of himself but not in an obnoxious, cocky way but rather in a matter-of-fact, confident way. He even had me sold.

            He has this charming smile. He sees the best in life and in people. He can find the humor in almost any situation. He has two college degrees yet he works odd jobs, and I love that.

            He has been a dog walker for the past two months. I watch him as two Great Danes, Charly and Rover, pull him around on the boardwalk by the San Francisco bay. Even if the smile is off his face, it never leaves his green eyes. It doesn’t matter what he does. I admire how much he loves life, and I love feeling like I am sharing in a part of it. It actually makes this gig as Death bearable at moments. After spending Sunday with him, Charly, and Rover, I head back to my place content. I am always most relaxed on Sunday. Spending Sunday at the Window makes getting up on Monday easier.

            I wake up Monday morning rejuvenated. No nightmares. I look in the mirror and try to find a smile in my eyes instead of the hollowness. I promise myself not to slam any doors this week. Who knows, maybe I will try laughing with the Pinstripes.

            I report to Ceci in the main building to pick up my list of souls for the day. When I open the envelope the whole page is a blur. Only one name sticks out to me in bold print. BENNETT HAYES: SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA. I stop in my tracks. I have never felt faint before, but I think this is what it feels like. I don’t know what to feel. Only one word makes its way out of my mouth.

            “Why?”

            I hear the Pinstripes voices in my head. You can just take it up with the “Big Guy.” Then I hear the horrid laughing.

            In this moment I don’t know whether I want to send the “Big Guy” a thank you note for finally allowing us to meet or to send him hate mail for taking Bennett Hayes’s life away from me.

Bennett and I will meet once, for the briefest of time, and once that moment is over he will move on to the other side, where I will never see him again. I am still frozen in the office as Ceci stares at me.

“Are you alright, dear?” Ceci asks.

I rush out before I vomit all over the floor. I take in the fresh air. I take a deep breath and take the trip I always knew I would have to take. I head down to Earth. I have no choice. Like I said before, I didn’t ask for this. Duty calls.