Grim Reaper #122: Mara James

I walked quietly through the hospital halls. Even my footsteps were silent against the linoleum floors. My pace was brisk and with a purpose in mind. My only purpose. I was here to do one thing and that was it. My only job. Counting the room numbers as I walked they slowly counted up. 1302. 1304. 1306. 1308. Stopping I looked down at the small piece of paper in my hand and read the room number stamped onto it below coordinates.

Room 1308

As I looked into the room I took a deep breath before entering. The door was already open, I could hear the rhythmic hum and beeps of machines that were trying to keep him alive. I entered the room, the man laying in the bed was old, late eighties by my visual estimate. I already knew what was slowly draining the life out of him. Cancer. Most of his organs were plagued by the ailment and on the cusp of failing. He had done a good job fighting death but all things must come to an end I knew that better than most. I felt his line growing shorter as the time I was waiting for neared. The cancer was shutting down his body one cell at a time.

While I waited I straightened the lapels of my black suit jacket ensuring that not a stitch was out of place. Everything about me needing to be meticulous. Some called it OCD I called it professionalism. His breathing was becoming a struggle, a battle to attempt to prevent the inevitable. Suddenly the monitors began to panic, trying to to their job and alert the nurses of his eminent demise. They rushed into the room, leaving me unnoticed, as per usual, while they desperately tried to revive him to no avail. They called out orders to each other and did what they could but I knew what was coming as I looked back down at the paper in my hand to read the time and date on it.

January 17th, 2022: 0312

The doctor shook his head in defeat before speaking.

“Time of death 0312.”

They shut off the machines and a few moments of silence filled the room.

“What… What’s going on?”

I turned my head and looked at the man who was now standing next to me. He was tall with handsome features and appeared to be in his mid twenties. His brown hair was styled into a fifties style hair cut and his blue eyes looked at me with apprehension.

“Frank Patter?”

“Yes.”

“Born on March 5th 1941 in Brooklyn New York?”

“Yes. What’s going on? How do you know that?”

“My name is Mara, you have just died. I am the grim reaper assigned to assist your soul in the transition to the other side. Please follow me.”

I stepped forward, being sure to avoid the hustle and bustle of the nurses as we left the room. I hated being touched in shade form. We walked down the halls together with Frank following closely behind.

“I don’t understand? Ahh!”

I turned just in time to see the nurse walking out of the other side of Frank. If I were still mortal I probably would be amused but now nothing gave me entertainment. Other reapers called it going numb. After so many years of doing my job and no longer being mortal I had, in a sense, shut off my emotions. They were unnecessary for my job and I just did my job and kept going. My job was my purpose.

“We need to keep moving. I have other assignments today that I don’t wish to be late for. You have died and are going to the afterlife.”

“Like heaven?”

“Possibly. I am not in charge of where my assignments go, wether into the light or darkness, I just take you to the entrance. We must keep moving though. Your soul has a deadline if you do not wish to remain a ghost.”

He nodded but seemed very overwhelmed. Most spirits did. I could barely even remember what it felt like when I had been in this state myself. When I did think back it would make me feel a strange sensation in my gut, one I was content to ignore in exchange for focusing on my duty. As we reached the door at the end of the hall the windows were filled with an ethereal light.

“This is your stop. Walk through the doors. The light will draw you in. Just relax and let it flow through you.”

“Is the light good?”

“Yes. The light is good.”

He looked at me.

“What about my family? My wife?”

“She will join you when her time comes.”

“Ok…”

“You will be fine Frank Patter. This is your time. Everyone must come here eventually. Such is the way of death. You should find peace in knowing there is something after for you.”

He took a deep breath and walked towards the doors. This was one of the few times I felt anything anymore. As he reached forwards and grasped the door handle the light brightened to welcome him. When he pulled it open a wave of warmth and joy washed over me. This was the only time I let my emotions rise back up, the only thing that made my heart beat ever so quickly. I closed my eyes to savor it but all too quickly it was gone and when I opened them again the door was shut and Frank Patter and the light were gone.

My stoicism returned and I reached into my jacket to pull out a pen. Looking down at the piece of paper for one last time I wrote one word at the bottom.

Light

I folded the paper in half and returned it to my jacket with the pen. As I did so I felt a flutter against my pant pocket. I reached down and pulled out a crisp piece of paper with fresh typing appearing on it as I watched.

Joanna Smalls

Date of Birth: July 12, 1987

Location of Birth: Kansas City, Kansas

39.0554817,-94.6110522

Room 217

Date of Death: January 17th, 2022: 0319

Frank Patter was the first of my many charges today and I focused back onto my tasks at hand. My day had only just begun and my job was never ending. But that was the responsibility of us reapers. Without us the afterlife would fall into chaos. I looked down at my watch. 0317. I needed to hurry if I wished to be there in time.

By the time I had finished for the day it was nearly midnight. I would have four hours until my next charge was sent. Plenty of time for me to complete the paperwork for the previous day. As a reaper I didn’t need sleep or food like the living did. Rest wasn’t scheduled into my agenda, just my job.

I arrived back at headquarters, an abandoned looking victorian home in a remote part of the English countryside. Nobody living ventured out here due to the rumors of death that were associated with this place, not that the rumors were all that far from the truth. The outside was just a mask. As I opened the front door I was greeted with the decrepit entryway of the once grand home. I walked through it and opened the door at the end of the hall that once lead into the dining room but not anymore. Through the door was a long lobby. It was covered in white marble and looked as sterile as a hospital. Statues lined the corridor, carved to look like the different gods of death that had been depicted over human history. At the end there was a desk with a receptionist and words stretched across the wall above him.

Department of Eternal Afterlife Transportation for Human Souls

Otherwise known as DEATHS. There were other departments that dealt with matters regarding the afterlife but this was the one most reapers worked for, including me. As I neared the desk he looked up and gave me a nod. I returned the gesture and continued past him, turning left and continuing down a hallway with a double door at the end. Through this door the area opened up into a large room filled with desks lined into perfect rows. Most of the desks were filled with other reapers inputting their paperwork for the day. I walked down the last row counting the desks until I reached desk 22, my desk. On it sat a computer monitor and a keyboard. Every thing else was meticulous. The whole place looked as if it was furnished by Ikea with straight lines and simplistic design.

As I sat my computer screen automatically lit up to show me the list of names of souls I had transported to the afterlife that day. There were three check boxes next to each name.

Light

Darkness

UT (Unsuccessful Transfer)

In all my years of working here I had never had an unsuccessful transfer, aka a ghost. It was an incredible record for someone of my age in this position. Something I held to a high esteem. I had been a reaper for so long I had almost lost count of the time but for some reason the number always stuck with me. 546 years 147 days. I was no where near the oldest reaper here but I definitely wasn’t one of the younger ones. In the past few centuries reapers had been being created at a steady rate due to an increase in world population. I had stopped wondering what the other divisions of the afterlife did many years ago when I realized I would probably never leave the DEATHS division.

Reaching into my pocket I pulled out the group of papers and flattened them back out one by one. I swiftly completed my final notes. 117 souls transferred today, 86 light and 31 darkness. It was nice to see that the light was winning for me today. I never knew which way the scales would fall on any given day. Taking my papers I walked over to the incinerator and dropped them inside, watching the light glow as they burned to ash. Checking my watch I realized it was almost time to return to work. 0248. Time worked differently here, it seemed to move faster. I sighed as I straightened my suit jacket and headed towards the exit for my next day.

Penelope Mariposa

Date of Birth: June 12, 1996

Location of Birth: St. Petersburg, Florida

27°39'57.6"N 82°55’32.8"W

Date of Death: January 18th, 2022: 0307

I groaned inwardly. Young deaths were always the hardest. They fought the process of moving on more than older people as they felt cheated in life by dying early. They had the most questions and arguments on why they shouldn’t be dead and based on the yacht that I had just appeared on this one would be a struggle for me. Right behind young people on the troublesome factor was rich people. I couldn’t count the number of times someone had tried to bribe me with money as if I needed it in the afterlife as a grim reaper, but it never failed to happen. I looked to my watch. 0306.

Right on time one of the doors to the inner compartment of the yacht opened and out stumbled a young woman. She had beautiful long golden hair and perfectly sun-kissed skin. With the way she was walking I could quickly tell she was intoxicated. She stumbled over to the outside bar and grabbed an open bottle of champagne. She took a swig and then twirled around to an unheard tune playing in her mind. She skipped around, humming to herself, getting closer and closer to the balcony at the edge of the boat. I already knew she wasn’t going to drown, drowning took longer than one minute to take a life.

My watch beeped informing me it was now 0307. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion as this girl continued to draw breath in front of me. Her death should have been started by now unless…

As if the universe heard my thoughts Penelope tripped and flipped over the balcony with a small yelp. I looked over just in time to see her land in an awkward position on the deck below, her neck bent at an impossible angle. And there it was. Even after 500 years I could still be surprised by fluke accidents.

“Daddy’s going to be pissed.”

I looked to my left to see Penelope now standing next to me looking over the balcony down at her body. I began my usual line of questioning.

“Penelope Mariposa?”

“If I say no can I come back to life?”

“No, are you Penelope Mariposa?”

“Unfortunately. Who are you?”

“Born on June 12, 1996 in St. Petersburg Florida?”

“That’s not creepy but ya. How did you get on daddy’s boat? Oh are you a medium? Is that how you can see me? That’s so cool!”

“No. My name is Mara, you have just died. I am the grim reaper assigned to assist your soul in the transition to the other side. Please,”

“That is even cooler! What’s it like to kill people?”

“I… I don’t kill people! I just collect the souls of people who have died and assist them to the other side so please follow me.”

“That sounds less fun than killing people. But whatever.”

“As thrilling as this conversation has become I have other charges to get to today and you need to pass on to the other side. Follow me please.”

“Well, aren’t you just all business. You should loosen up a little Mara.”

She said my name as if we had been friends. I felt a strange sensation rising in my chest. Frustration. Interesting.

“I have a job. I do my job. Follow me.”

I dropped the courtesies of saying please and turned to walk away. Penelope followed me reluctantly as we headed back towards the door that led into the interior of the boat. The small porthole on the door began to glow with light. At least it would be easier to convince her to go into the light instead of the darkness.

“This is your stop Penelope. Walk through the doors. The light will draw you in just relax and let it flow through you.”

“No thanks.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no thanks. And you can call me Penn. No one calls me Penelope except for when daddy is mad at me.”

I ignored her request.

“Penelope you must move on. If you refuse the light will leave and you will become a ghost, cursed to wander this yacht unseen and unheard for the rest of eternity.”

“Living on a yacht forever doesn’t seem too bad.”

I just stared at her perplexed by the simplicity of her mind. I raised my hand to my forehead and rubbed a finger between my eyebrows as I closed my eyes and reigned my sudden discovery of frustration in. I lowered my hand and straightened my jacket out of habit.

“You need to move on. It is unwise to stay. The light is good. You will be at peace. Don’t you feel the light pulling you in?”

Penelope looked towards the door and took a few steps towards it. She reached her hand out and touched the door handle before turning around and shrugging.

“Nope. No magical pull towards the strange glowing behind that door. So what now? If I am a ghost can I move things and mess with people? That sounds like fun!”

“No. You will be trapped alone forever. The light is fading you must go now, please.”

The light beyond the door had begun to dim, fading more with every second.

“I just don’t feel a pull to go there. I feel better staying here.”

“You must go.”

“Nope.”

Before I could get in another word a quiver went through the boat and the light disappeared completely. I watched as Penelope faded slightly becoming translucent.

“What have you done?”

My perfect record was ruined. For the first time in five centuries I felt emotion. Anger. Frustration. Defeat. I couldn’t even string together a coherent thought. Job. Work. Yes. I can focus on that. Regain control by doing my task at hand. Shoving down these newfound feelings I reluctantly pulled the piece of paper and pen out of my pocket.

“What’s that?”

“None of your business. You are a ghost now. Enjoy your lonely life.”

“Wow. Nice pep talk. I think you should probably work on it a little bit.”

“I have never had to say it. You are the first soul I have had that has not found their final purpose. You have marred my perfect record.”

“Have you ever heard of the term no one is perfect. Maybe you should be less hard on yourself.”

I ignored her and looked down to the paper in my hand. I was perfect but now, because of her, I wasn’t. As my pen was about to touch the paper the page glimmered and more writing appeared.

Penelope Mariposa

Date of Birth: June 12, 1996

Location of Birth: St. Petersburg, Florida

27°39'57.6"N 82°55’32.8"W

Date of Death: January 18th, 2022: 0307

New Assignment: Reaper in training assigned to Reaper Mara James.

Report to Chancellor Grant’s office at DEATHS headquarters immediately.

I was speechless. I had never seen this appear before on a death card. The cards had never changed after initially being received. Looking over my shoulder I saw Penelope reading the card. She was no longer translucent, having somehow returned to a solid shade appearance.

“Well I guess you were wrong about me being a ghost. I guess we’re work buddies now, yay! Please tell me I won’t have to wear that atrocious dress suit every day for the rest of eternity. Like ugh!”

I didn’t know what this meant but I had an inkling that I was not going to like it.