Everything ends and begins

She didn't realize leaving the apartment that day meant she would die, but as her heart slowed and tears ran down her face. She knew.

They always figure it out before the end.

I am always surprised by how much they fight back. How much bartering... Begging... Humans know they're mortal, right? They know I'll eventually be coming to walk them home. Well, most of them.

That car shouldn't have jumped the curb where she was walking, but the driver was drunk. He had just lost his job and made a choice to drink and drive home. I waited in the shadows, like I always do. Checked my watch as the whole horrific scene unfolded. Not the worst I'd seen. Still more violent than I prefer- I've been here waiting as millions died in bombings, as a single old man breathed his last. I prefer the sigh of relief as someone sees my face to the screams of anguish.

As the fires slowly stopped and the EMTs wrapped the bodies in black, I stepped forward. She was standing, as much as a soul stands, I guess, the outline of her form sort of glowing, like sunlight through a prism. She died in a yellow dress, and the soul sometimes holds onto that image as it processes what happened. Her auburn hair was pinned back in a messy bun. She looked like she had just been lost in thought, I know the soul takes time to disconnect from the physical world, and I've gotten used to waiting for that process. I've got all the time in the world. I always seem to take a little piece of every single one I pick up, a sliver of humanity? I don't really know. Things just seem to stick, sometimes.

This one old guy smelled like well loved books and sweet grass burning in the afternoon. His welcoming smile felt like smoke curling around my ears and almost hugging me. He told me about his son and his grandson as we strolled into the light.

And the six year old–cancer won–but her smile, that smile. Missing two teeth and still so happy. It radiates in my head. She skipped with me to the next realm. Talked excitedly about rainbows and how her favorite color was glitter, because it was every color.

I always love meeting the little ones. The vivid stories and full joy. I know they will always ask about their parents. Or grandparents. Or caregivers. They are so pure. I have gotten good at letting them look in. See the smiles through the tears. Seeing the memories.. filtered through my lens. I mean, I'm not a monster. Other harvesters might be. But, I have a reputation to uphold.

The pain is reserved for a different class. The retribution collectors.

I interned there when I was first chosen. Didn't have the stomach, or whatever one has being disembodied, for it. I watched a frail whisper of a female soul dig her fingers into the mind of her tormenter of a husband after he severed her soul from her body. He.. slowly disintegrated. Over years; many, many years. Her pain was so strong. I could almost feel it, hot and acrid.

I couldn't handle it. Made what I do now so much better. Or easier. They say there's a job for every one of us. That was not the job for me.

Checked my watch again, this soul is lingering longer than I prefer to wait- I do have a schedule to keep.

So clear my throat. Quietly. Subtly.

She looks up. Her eyes glow like gold in the afternoon light. I feel my chest.. tighten. It's been decades since I saw that look. This job has always been easy. Like a walk on a cool fall day. The last time I got a look that almost cut through me was back in 1963? Or 1964?

The boy had been very careful as he drove his father's new Chrysler Imperial to the senior prom. His girlfriend by his side, in a rose pink ball gown. I really enjoy watching the evolution of the style and fashion of humans, it's like always changing artwork. The boy had signaled and turned left, just as a dump truck slammed into the driver's side of that beautiful car. I was standing by a tree, waiting as always, as the police came and went. The girl survived, her perfect dress ripped and stained. The boy. He glared at me and turned back to her. That look that would have gutted any other person. I could feel his heart breaking. His hand carefully tried to trace the side of her face. His ethereal thumb unable to wipe away the tears rolling down her cheeks.

I gave him much longer than I should have, I suppose some part of me knew he needed to stay for a few extra moments.

When he finally accepted he wouldn't really get to say goodbye, he turned back to me. I straightened my tie and got ready to introduce myself.

"I don't really care who you are, where do I go now?" He said bitterly.

I sighed, "I'm Aster, and I'll show you the way." I motioned to the left. The walk was never as long as you'd think it should be. I think it was designed to be a reflection. The transition between the physical and spiritual maybe. Never really thought too much about it, but after doing this job as long as I have, the philosophical questions pop up now and again.

The boy finally spoke again as the sun was climbing up over the hills; washing the path in gold.

"I'm Clint. I was going to ask Sherry to marry me at prom. You see, I have loved her since the third grade and I know she is, well, she was the only girl I ever loved. But that damn truck..." He looked back. "Oh. My dad is gonna kill me. That car. He saved up for so long to buy it."

I put my gloved hand on his shoulder.

"It's ok," I said, motioning ahead on the path. "Don't need to worry about that anymore."

We were almost to the gate. I've been told it looks different to every soul I bring to it. Some say it reminds them of home, like where they grew up, or the place they built as adults. One more flamboyant soul said it looked like Las Vegas. I can't see it, but it's not really important to me anyway. It's their transition, not mine.

Clint sighed, “Why did you bring me back to my house? It’s not like I can pack or anything.”

I squinted, all I ever see is haze.

“No, this is THE gateway. I can’t walk any farther with you. The next part is for you alone.”

I stood beside the haze, waiting for him to step through.

I wonder if I’ll ever get to see what’s on the other side.

Clint hesitated. “Do I have to go through it? I mean, can’t I stay here and ‘haunt’ people?” His voice waivered a little. “I want to see how Sherry does, make sure she’s ok and stuff.” He turned to look back. We were too far away for him to see anything familiar anymore.

I sighed. He’s not going to walk through on his own, and I have been told in no uncertain terms I can’t push them through. Free will and all that stuff. Pushing them, nudging them, or any other force to get them to go messes with the balance. Creates negative energy. Pretty scary to watch.

“You will eventually be able to check in on her, Clint,” I say, hoping he’ll believe me. I know it’s not technically a lie, but not every soul even remembers their former life after processing. My job is only to collect and deliver. I like walking, I like listening… It was a natural fit. He still wasn’t moving.

“Look,” I knew I was going to regret this, “I’ll keep an eye out for her, when its her time, I’ll let her know you missed her and would have stayed if you could.”

He looked at me, checking to see if he could tell whether I was being honest or not. Takes half a heartbeat for me to check on a human. Its not really my job though. If management knew, they’d just tell me to lie and move on.

“Ok, I think I’m ready to go.” Clint turned back to the haze. He put his hand out, like he was grasping a latch or handle. As he stepped through the haze, he said “Thanks Aster…”

I checked my watch again. I guess I could start fulfilling the request. If I popped in every five years? Ten years? Maybe that would be enough. I was pretty sure I’d be seeing her in about 60 years anyway. I didn’t check her folder, I kind of like the surprises of each day. Some of us read all the files of every soul we’ll meet in a week, like homework or background research. I am definitely not that sort of harvester.

I tapped the button on the side of my watch. Suddenly I was outside a yellow house. It was early evening. I could see a young lady sitting on the porch, reading something.

“Sherry, dinner time” someone inside the house called out to her. “Coming mom!” She closed her book and went into the house. My watch said it was May 5, 1965. Only a year or so had passed. She looked well enough, I guess. No real obvious lasting trauma from the accident. I tapped the button on my watch again. I figured I could jump ahead five years. That seemed like a good enough span ahead- to check in on her again.

I found myself standing in the bread aisle of a grocery store. I turned and saw a very pregnant Sherry, with short curly hair, placing loaves of wheat bread on a shelf. She was wearing a green apron and she looked tired.

“Sherry, Price check on register 4 please” A shrill voice echoed over the intercom system. Sherry sighed, set down the last loaf of bread, and left the aisle.

Still ok, right? I felt a little uneasy about just jumping ahead. Decided to fast forward a couple hours so I could see her outside of work. She didn’t walk out of the employee entrance at the side of the grocery store until dusk. The bus stop was about 30 feet from the door, but she still walked fairly quickly, staying in the newly lit area of the parking lot. The circles of light cast down from the tall light poles were roughly 12 feet in diameter, gaps of darkness 6 to 8 feet across separated each one. She walked like she knew someone was out there in the darkness waiting for her. It even made me a little uneasy, and I know what lives in the dark between the living and not… quite living.

Sherry stood at the bus stop, beside the bench, arms crossed. She glanced to her left periodically, up the street, to see where the bus was. It was darker now. The hazy glow of dusk never seems to last long enough before the earth turns ever so slightly more to blanket everything in an inky black. The dim fluorescent lamp in the overhang of the bus stop barely kept the dark away. Its spindly fingers tugging at her shadow as she waited.

From what I can gather, the sudden goosebumps on a human’s arm… or the cold whisper on the back of one’s neck is all most humans feel when the dark reaches out. It knows it has no real claim to any of the things the rest of us have access to, and the agreement we have with it, as the processing bureau, is it can have what is left after the retribution and retaliation departments get done with… their business.

The yellow headlights of the slowing bus scared the dark back into its own space and Sherry stepped forward, to the bus door. I could hear the creaking of the hinges as the driver pulled the lever to let her in.

I don’t enjoy the process of being pulled as humans use motor vehicles- when I’m tethered through tracking, feels like I have no control and I dislike the chaos of that- so I rolled the second hand forward by twenty and appeared in front of a squatty tan apartment building. I could see Sherry in the second floor window, she was closing the curtains and looked like she was talking to someone I couldn’t see from the ground. I know I’m not at any risk of being seen but I still try to give the humans their privacy, so I roll the minute hand forward to rush through the night. I want to see who she was talking to. The rising sun made the dull building almost glow like it was clad in gold, the east facing windows looked like they had spotlights shining outward from the reflection. I watched a man, with a dark mustache and short hair open the curtains in that second floor apartment. He looked down at something below the window, reached down, and lifted a toddler up, to look out the window. The child reached their chubby hands out, to press against the glass. The man smiled as the child giggled. I watched as Sherry came to the window and planted a kiss on the messy head of the child. She looked like she was dressed for work again. I checked my watch, tapped the button on the side and jumped another 5 years.

I was back at the grocery store. It was noon, or close to noon based on where the sun was in the sky. I walked in and saw an older Sherry, in a pantsuit talking to a younger associate. She didn’t have the green apron anymore. “Mrs. Walker, where should we put the display for the new cereal?” a man pulling a pallet on a cart asked. Sherry turned around and motioned toward the end of an aisle behind where the man was standing.

She seemed to be doing pretty well. I figured I could fast forward again. Five more years? She would be around 34 I think. The date was around March 13, 1980. I tapped my watch, Sherry was walking down a sidewalk with two girls, one with curly brown hair and the other with long straight black hair. They looked happy, giggling as they walked. Sherry’s hair was longer, pinned back in a bun. She looked relaxed, at ease with the world she was in. I figured I could fast forward ten years, things seemed settled.

It was raining when I stopped. I opened my black umbrella and listened to the drumming of the large raindrops thump the taut fabric. I was standing in a cemetery. Maybe I shouldn’t have fast forwarded so far. Sherry was dressed in black, with an older man holding an umbrella. Her eyes were red and swollen. The casket in front of the small group was white, with yellow roses on top. I squinted through my silver framed glasses to see who might be in the casket. A young girl locked eyes with me. She had long black hair and she was dressed in a light blue shirt with blue jeans.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, like she had seen me before. “Why are you still following my mom?”

“What?” I was startled. “I, my name is Aster. I am here to walk you to the next world.” I figured if I acted like I was actually here for her, I could have more time to figure out if she actually saw me before or if I just look like someone else.

“Oh I know you’re not here for me, I have been waiting for a different… one of ‘you’ to take me.” She was very arrogant, or cocky. Maybe both? I shrugged. She’d be waiting a while then. Only a few souls linger long enough to see their loved ones at the funeral or memorial service. I wondered why she hadn't been processed at the time of death. Once one of us makes contact, in the event of an accidental meeting like this, the account is flagged and reassigned. It helps with the work flow and efficiency of the corporation.

“Unfortunately, I’m the only one here, so you can walk with me or.. Stay here.” I knew that wasn’t true. I just hate the alternative, its messy. I’ve seen souls turn black when forced. Then we have to reassign them to the retribution division.

She rolled her eyes and slumped. “Fine.” She stepped closer to me. The rain was still pouring, my shoes were soaked. She looked like she had just left school, the rain falling straight through her. I wished there was some way to keep the rain, snow… weather from interfering with my job and my shoes. For some reason the weather is not something we had control over. I always had to plan for the climate I was working in, it went against my prefence for just experiencing most of my job as it unfolds.

“So, tell me about yourself.” I started in with the small talk as we started walking out of the cemetery.

She snorted, “Wow, you aren’t very good at this are you.” I am not a big fan of the young people in the later eras, they aren’t ever as open or talkative as some of the other age groups. Seem to be awfully sarcastic too. “Well, my name is Clara. I just turned 20. I had been flying back to Texas to see my family and some moron crashed the plane I was on.” She looked at her feet as we walked. Her white sneakers were not quite touching the ground as she walked, so each step was silent.

The rain was finally tapering off, I was glad. We were walking down a quiet residential road. “So, when do you think you saw me, like you were saying earlier?” I was sure it was a doppleganger or something. She had to be mistaken.

“You were at the store mom manages, just… standing there. And when we were all walking down the street. Are you waiting for mom to die too? What kind of .. whatever you are… does that?” She sounded angry.

Humans can’t see us. It's almost impossible. All throughout history we’ve been hidden aside from a few noted and uncorrectable instances. I know of three oracles that actually had meetings with some of my coworkers, and two seers from the early 1920’s that harassed Agnes (my boss) enough that she despises meeting with the still living for anything. I’d have to file a report and get an investigation opened. Paperwork. Not something I was looking forward to, but I was unnerved enough that I wanted to see what happened.

“No, I’m not waiting on her. I don’t even have her in my caseload yet...I don’t know if she will be in my caseload when it happens.” That was true, since I really didn’t read through my files very often anyway. “I was actually just fulfilling a promise.” She stopped and looked at me through her long black hair.

“...by who?” She sounded like she already knew, her voice caught in her throat a little as she spoke. “It was that boy wasn’t it?” She sort of smiled. “She told me about the first love of her life, but he died before they even started living really. I always thought she was sort of making it up, like trying to tell me love evolves and changes or whatever. Maybe she was being honest, I mean, if he talked you into babysitting her, he had to have been a decent guy.” She started walking again. We were getting close to her gateway.

“I agreed to keep an eye, sort of, so he would move to the next world. We do things to ensure a smooth transition, that was an easy one. I have had to sing opera before- which was not a pleasant experience for anyone within earshot.” I don’t even know why I told her that. It was early in my career and I was much less reserved, more willing to ‘do whatever it took’ to close a file. She giggled and shook her head.

“You are a weird old… person… aren’t you.” She said ‘person’ almost like a question, not really sure what I was. She was going to say something else but stopped short.

“This is your gateway.” I said. I could sense the unease she felt.

“Are you sure? This… it looks, wrong.” Her voice waivered a little.

“What do you mean? I can’t see any gateway, so you’ll have to help me out a little.” I was hoping she was just afraid of crossing, and that nothing was actually wrong.

“It… it looks like my closet door from when I was really little. Why would it look like that? I always thought monsters lived in that closet and spent more time sleeping in my big sister Ashley’s room instead.” She reached out to touch something, a doorknob maybe.. And pulled back sharply. “I’m not going in there. It’s got to be wrong.” She backed up and crossed her arms.

…Great. Now what am I supposed to deal with this. I didn’t want to call for support. It seemed like a waste of time. I checked my watch again. I’m already going to have to rewind so much to get back to my little promise.

“Would you prefer I call in a technician to see why the gateway seems ‘scary’ to you?” I asked. I was expecting her to say something sarcastic back to me.

“That would be nice actually, I know I am not supposed to stay here, I can feel a pull, like a thin…thread…inviting me in, but I’m so scared.” She was trembling.

I tapped a silver button on the opposite side of my watch from the time adjusting knob.

A short man with thinning hair and thick black rimmed glasses walked up from behind us. “Good day Aster, what kind of mess did you make this time?” He had a nasaly voice and a slightly condescending tone.

“Oh hello Edwin, I don’t have any problems. My client, Clara, has an issue with her portal,” I tried to speak calmly, but I was talking with a clenched jaw. This technician was not my first choice for any call. “Clara said the door she sees reminds her of a scary time in her life.”

Edwin stepped toward the mist, tilted his head, and stuck his right hand out to examine something I couldn’t see. He muttered something under his breath and pulled his hand back.

“Well, I’ll need to reprogram this gateway, you probably did something to mess it up.” Edwin glanced at me. He took a gold pocketwatch out of his right vest pocket and clicked the button at the top. The pocketwatch opened and he lined up the cover with the gateway and tapped a button on the side of the pocketwatch. The haze dissipated and then slowly came back. “Ok, that should do it. Does it look any better?” He turned to Clara.

Clara squinted and looked into the haze. She sighed and looked back at me. “It’s just a plain white door. Does that matter? Is it supposed to look familiar?” She asked both of us.

I turned to Edwin. “Well, is it normal, Edwin?” I asked. I had only been told that the gateway would usually be familiar to each person in a different way. I didn’t know much else and figured he would.

He looked at me confused, “Well, I don’t know, that’s not my department. I just handle the technical aspects.”

“Well, what happens if I go through the wrong door?” Clara asked, looking more at me than Edwin.

“I haven’t heard anything, there wasn’t anything in the manual about that for me, do you know, Edwin?” I answered her, I honestly didn’t know.

“The gateway can be a little fickle in its visual representation to some people, it shouldn’t affect the transfer to…” Edwin trailed off as Clara stepped back toward the grey fog. She put her hand out into the mist and turned something. I briefly felt a cold breeze when she opened whatever door in the fog. The fog disappeared as Clara stepped through the invisible doorway.

I looked at Edwin and frowned. He didn’t sound as certain as he usually did. He’s always been a very arrogant person. He took the pocket watch out of his vest pocket, pushed the button on the top to make the gold cover pop open, and checked the time.

“Well, Aster, I can’t say this has been the highlight of my shift. I’ll bid you adieu.” Edwin turned the gold knob on the top of his pocket watch and tapped it twice. He faded away and I looked at my watch.

I turned the knob to adjust the time and everything around me became hazy, detached from any certain era–very much like the way the world looks to a child spinning on a tire swing I think. I kept turning the knob until the rain started falling again. Soon I was back in that cemetery. I stood under the canopy of a large oak tree with my black umbrella shielding me from most of the rain. The rhythmic drumming almost lulling me to sleep–we don’t need to do that really–there’s some part of the rewinding and fast forwarding that recharges us to a point. That and food. I have sat to ‘eat’ dinner with clients who request such things, but I don’t really need to eat.

The first time I was invited in, to eat a last meal… was during the middle ages. A very gaunt younger woman, Magda, saw me standing outside in my cloak, and motioned me in, assuming I was worse off than she. I shared her small fireplace, a weak broth of beef and maybe some turnips was bubbling in the pot hanging over the fire. She reached out to grab a bowl and as her hand phased through it, she cried out. She looked at me and realized why I was there. After her initial fear and sadness, we sat watching the flames dance in her fireplace for a while. The fire slowly died down and I asked if she wanted to go for a walk. She had tears in her soft grey eyes as she nodded and stood up. She wrapped her frail shoulders with the rough wool blanket she had been wrapped in and smoothed her skirts. We walked the verdant hills for quite some time before she gasped and crumpled to the ground. She saw her gateway. She said it looked like her nan’s front gate. She almost ran to it … I didn’t even get to say goodbye really. Most of my clients are like that. They kind of know. I get a decent amount of push back, don’t get me wrong, but the walk helps almost every time.

The service was finally ending, the casket had been lowered into the ground and a single groundskeeper was slowly trying to shovel the heavy mud into the hole. I could hear the hollow thump of the mud hitting the casket. I turned to see where Sherry had gone. She was walking with a couple people toward a row of cars. A man with an umbrella, and another woman. I walked toward them.

I could hear the caught breaths, the restraint one defers to when they are trying not to cry. Sherry had been crying. I knew she would cry more. Her baby was gone. The man looked like the one I had seen in the apartment window, but older. He was tight lipped but his eyes were red, he’d been crying too. The other woman, younger than Sherry and the man, was talking fast and angrily, she hated the airline, the pilot, anyone who she could hate, her sister was gone.

“Ashley, just… stop….” Sherry knew how angry her daughter was, but the pain could destroy her. She didn’t know how else to redirect the energy though. She paused, reached out and pulled Ashley into her arms.

“Oh my sweet girl…” she whispered “I am here.” I could feel the warmth from across the cemetery. Ashley melted into her mom’s hug.

She always smelled like fresh baked cinnamon rolls. I know it is a weird thing, but mom always smelled like fresh cinnamon rolls. She didn’t even work in the bakery, or help in the bakery. She just smelled comforting, like a fresh baked cinnamon roll. Ashley hadn’t really noticed until now, how much her mom’s hug.. And her presence helped. Her little sister was gone. Clara wouldn’t be sending her dumb letters, or calling the dorm phone to annoy her… and Ashley cried harder into mom’s jacket because she had been annoyed by the nagging and bugging.

The connection between siblings is something that is hard to explain. When they were younger, they had invented their own secret language, with silly pictures. Clara wasn't much of an artist, but she could draw the hieroglyphic like pictures when they shared notes. Ashley worked very hard to design her code, and she hated the way her little sister mangled it. How hard was it to draw basic pictures? Clara couldn’t even draw a water sign very well at first. But she practiced. She wrote notes every day and Ashley checked for accuracy. She was probably too picky, the lines were not perfectly even, or the shapes didn’t match the template that had been drawn carefully to help.

“If you’re going to do it at all, you should do it right the first time.” She told her little sister more than once. It sounded harsh in her ears now. She held tight to her mom, breathed the scent, the cinnamon, as she let the tears roll down her cheeks.

I was hesitant to fast forward more along Sherry’s life, she was already in her 40’s by now… maybe just jumping another 10 years would get me close enough to the end of her life to satisfy my curiosity. I was regretting not checking her file now, I didn’t know how many more years she had before it was her turn to go to the next place.

I turned the knob on the side of my watch and found myself standing outside of a church. There was a fancy car parked out front, decorated with streamers and “Just Married” written on the back window. I walked up the stairs and opened the main door to the church. I could hear the ceremony taking place in the large sanctuary fourteen feet in front of me. I peeked through a door that had been propped open slightly and saw a woman in an ornate lace wedding gown holding hands with a tall chestnut haired man. He had tears in his eyes and he was smiling. The pastor was almost done. The chestnut haired man lifted the veil to see his bride and everyone clapped as the new couple kissed. The woman was Ashley; Sherry’s daughter. I could see Sherry sitting in the front row, in a lavender dress. She was sitting alone. I skipped ahead a couple of hours to see her after the chaos of the reception and such.

She was sitting on a bench at the front porch of a yellow house. She looked like she was talking to someone, but there wasn’t anyone there. I got closer to hear what she said.

“Oh honey you would have loved to see her today, she was so beautiful. Ashley looked perfect, and her new husband, Marcus, is such a good guy- you would have loved him.” She was talking to her husband. I didn’t want to rewind to find out when she lost him, it was hard enough watching her lose Clara- and I didn’t want to interfer with the harvester in charge of collecting his soul either.

I turned the knob on the side of my watch and fast forwarded another 5 years. Sherry had mostly grey hair now. She was in a park laughing as she pushed a giggling toddler in a swing. It must have been a grandchild. She was nearing 60 at this point. I knew if I kept going, I’d end up being the harvester to meet her, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to risk her finding out I had followed her for the last 40 odd years.

–

I decided I should probably go file that report regarding Clara and her supposedly seeing me while she was still in the land of the living. I held down the silver button on the opposite side of my watch and a dark brown wooden door appeared in front of me. I hated being in the office. It was boring and I preferred the variety of my assignments to filling out reports.

As I opened the door, I could hear the frantic clicking of typewriters, the muffled discussions between people working in the offices. The main office was well lit- the rectangle ceiling lights bathed the desks and floors in a light almost as bright as the noonday sun in Mexico. The desk I was assigned was in the third row of 7 rows, and 5 desks back from where the office of our supervisor was located. Our harvesting assignment folders were organized on the wall behind where my desk was set up. I walked over to my folders and pretended to look for a specific name while I half flipped through the folders near mine. I was looking to see who was assigned to Sherry, just to satisfy my own curiosity. Our assignments are set for windows of time ranging between a couple days to a couple years. I didn’t see her name immediately so I dropped it for the time being.

Better fill out the anomaly report and get back to work. I pulled the required form and walked back to my desk. My typewriter was a little dusty from nonuse so I blew into the innerworkings before feeding the form into the rollers. Name… Click click click. Describe the anomaly …um, how to word it so I didn’t sound paranoid… “client claimed to have ‘seen’ a harvester multiple times while still living.” I think that would work well enough, even though I knew I’d still be pulled in for an interview. I wonder if they have to recall the soul that I processed. If they even could locate someone after they moved to the next plane.

“I haven’t seen you in the office in a while Aster, why are you gracing us with your presence now?” Agnes was our supervisor and tends to be a very ‘hands off’ boss unless you really mess something up.

“I had an anomaly I needed to report, you know how much I try to not sit around ma’am” I had just finished the form and pulled it from the typewriter. She took it from my hand, almost a little aggressively, and skimmed it.

“Someone ‘saw’ a harvester? You mean someone claimed they saw you?” I wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or actually asking me.

“Yeah, I was checking up on a potential client a couple times along their timeline and their daughter said she saw me during a few of the instances I was observing.” It sounded ridiculous when I said it out loud.

“You were checking on someone not assigned to you? I think I’ll need to pull up the file on this ‘daughter’ and look into it. I’ll call you in to make a statement.” Agnes seemed annoyed to have the extra work dropped into her lap.

I wasn't too worried, I'd made statements before, especially for souls that were redirected to the retribution department, this was the first time I'd been the target of an investigation though. I didn't know if I should wait, I was getting a little anxious so I decided to get back in the field until I got called back in.

I glanced at the folder in the front of my assignments on the wall, "Gary Mendell." Checked my watch, turned the knob on the side of it and opened the door at the end of the office. The lights shining startled me a little when I looked out into my assigned location. I could see the red velvet curtains and feel the heat from the lights on the stage.

Wait… this was going to be a tough one. Gary was looking at himself, sprawled on the stage… the light hadn't been secured and he didn't stand a chance. The audience was screaming and filing toward the exits, as if they'd heard someone yell 'fire' instead of rushing the stage to see if he was still breathing. I glanced up to the catwalk above him, just to see if I'd be escorting anyone else..

I thought I saw something move…

But I was probably just seeing things, the lights were so bright. There was a faint scent in the air, maybe from the light exploding when it hit the stage- smelled almost like lavender or lilac. Oddly floral either way, but dissipated quickly. I waited in the wings while the EMTs came and the body was collected. Gary didn't hardly move, he just watched as his own body was bagged up… he was still in shock I figured. He was wearing a three piece suit, it was a dark maroon. He had short thinning light brown hair, gold frame glasses, and pale blue eyes, almost like ocean water. He was very tall, at least 4 inches taller than me, and I was fairly tall myself. He was thin, like someone had grasped his head and feet and stretched him out as he grew. I checked my watch and decided I should make my introduction now that most of the mess had been cleaned up.

"Gary?" I spoke clearly, it would have echoed if the normal laws of sound were possible. He turned around, his eyes wide, as if he expected me to act aggressively.

"I wasn't ready! You shouldn't have…I was going to pay it all back…” he stopped when he realized I wasn't who he thought I was. "Oh, sorry, yes… my name is Gary." He put out his hand as he walked toward me. I removed my gloves and gave him a firm handshake, which I don't usually do, but he seemed insistent.

"My name is Aster, and I'm your guide to the next place. Are you ready to take a walk?" I had said it so many times, it felt canned.

"It shouldn't have happened like that… I .. was doing well. We were making money… and my name was getting popular…" Gary sounded excited at first..and then frustrated… something had changed and his voice became strained. "I… I'm dead right? I can't go back…" he spoke hesitantly. I nodded. This is hard sometimes. I stepped closer. Within an arms length.

"You made a difference with what you did." I tried to ease him out of the current trajectory. I knew he would be difficult. I could see the black tendrils curling around the floor near his body.

I had to work fast. His pain and frustration was bleeding through and the shadows could feel it. I reached out, I never ever reach out… and immediately pulled away.

The contact with his spirit burned my hand. I looked… the pads of my fingers of my left hand and they were blistered. The pattern was jagged.

There was no way to contain this with normal measures. I took my satchel, stupid and oversized, and pulled the glass bottle of granules out … looked like bath salt … I hastily drew out a circle around his growing tendrils of rage, holding the bottle in my right hand… I had barely finished before he began howling. The sound could melt the flesh from anyone, but the salt kept it locked in. I quickly tapped my watch and called in a clean up team. This was really not going to look good on my record.

The cold black tendrils of the shadows were inching closer, drawn to his energy, his shrieks. They feed off all energy, and the energy emitted by anger and rage are very potent. They retreated when they touched the edge of the salt line, wisps of smoke with each attempted touch. They had no way in.

His howling echoed around the inside of the salt lined chamber, and as his cries increased, he began clawing at the force field. His anger and pain shaped his finger nails into daggers. Every stroke made sparks on the force field. Every howl became more feral.

The shrieks were bouncing off the force field, creating a humming noise from the field emitted to dampen the energy output. The humming was almost deafening to a point. It made my ears ring and the space around it shake.

My heart, or whatever was supposed to be pulsing in my chest, was pounding. Reverberating through my whole body. All at once I felt dizzy and feverish, I stepped farther back from where Gary was quickly changing into… something far more difficult to control. Then my world turned black.

I woke up with Agnes standing over me, she was pinching the bridge of her nose and slowly shaking her head as one of the control team updated her on the situation. They had cordoned off the whole area where my salt trap contained what was now a hissing and spitting black form, with knives for fingers and glowing red embers where eyes should be. The black slime, spit or whatever they emit, is so dark that it doesn’t reflect light- like fluids tend to. It had filled up almost four inches of the cylinder he, or it, was trapped inside. I could sort of smell the stench that emanated from it. Sulfurous and stung my eyes, almost acidic.

“Aster, what the hell happened?” Agnes noticed I was conscious again and she looked furious. “You were supposed to collect this guy after he had a massive stroke and they’re telling me he died in an accident five minutes earlier than he was supposed to.” She was looking at me like I had something to do with it. There had been times when harvesters wanted to earn accolades and be known for better than average numbers of souls collected, but they were typically more likely to poach others’ jobs. We don’t interact with the human plane of existence in a standard way, we can manipulate some things but not for very long or with any real change to those things. Our main realm was always more spirit than physical.

I sat up and my head started throbbing again, “Agnes, I did not have anything to do with this, I was definitely not expecting my day to go this way. But I did… notice something.” I didn’t really want to tell her what I thought I saw until we were back in the office. She narrowed her eyes as she tried to read my face.

“Fine, let’s go through your review of the girl… and this mess. Give me 20 turns on the watch and I’ll see you in the office.” She was tense and I could tell it would be a difficult discussion. I checked the back of my head for damage and slowly stood up. Brushed myself off, damn wrinkles in my jacket… I’d been called peculiar before… for my preference toward cleanliness and things being a certain way. It set me up for success in this job though, I had a certain image to maintain after all. I had a few minutes to go get the wrinkles out of my jacket before I needed to meet with Agnes so I quickly set my watch to the little dry cleaning shop on the corner of 73rd and Lexington in New York City. I’d been going here off and on since the beginning, since time is circular, or easily manipulated by all those who travel in the spirit realm, I’m not sure I’ve ever not talked to the same older gentleman. He smiled as he saw me come through the door. He could only see me because he was dying slowly of emphysema and a glitch in our system allowed him to see me and a couple of my associates. He couldn’t see anyone else but the handful of harvesters.. Every time, “Aster, I’m tired but you can’t take me yet… I got too much to finish first.” and I always reassure him that I’ll come back to get him the day after the next.

I walked to the counter and he noticed right away that I had been through something. “Aster, your jacket… its a mess.” He was half grinning as he spoke.

“Abba, who are you talking to?” A teen, or almost teen boy spoke from behind the sidewall, he rounded the corner to spy on us.

“Oh Toby, I’m just talking to myself, go back to your homework. I have a few orders I forgot to process.” He knew Toby wouldn’t see me, and would chalk it up to his crazy old grandfather rambling on about nonsense.

“Charles, I had a little mishap, can you help me quickly?” I handed him my bespoke blazer. He nodded and shuffled off the to the back of the shop to get to work. I absentmindedly looked around at the posters and ads for local shops plastered up on the walls of the dry cleaners. I also looked at the still aching blisters on my left hand, They were fading but would be a stinging reminder of why I don’t ever take my gloves off for a while longer. Charles came back from the back of the shop with a freshly mended and pressed jacket. It almost looked new. I smiled and thanked him, he was like a wizard with all types of fabrics.

I stepped back out into the light of New York City and checked my watch. She said 20 turns right? Well, here goes nothing. I turned the knob 20 times and stepped back into the office.

The hum of the yellow fluorescent lights always kind of annoyed me, part of the reason I never liked being there for too long.