Is That The Grim Reaper or you ?

Is that the Grim Reaper or you?

The knocking began at 3:17 a.m., softly, like a whisper against the wood. Then, more persistent. One of Nora's eyes opened to the bright blue digits on her alarm clock as she groaned from beneath her blanket. In the middle of nowhere, she lived by herself. At this hour,

nobody ought to knock. She peeked through the window with a groggy shuffle and a pepper spray bottle in one hand. On her porch, a tall figure wearing a black cloak stood motionless with the shadows covering her face. "Grim Reaper, are you there?" She said something under her breath, half joking and half getting ready to throw her slipper and bolt. The person turned its head. Just enough of a crack was made by Nora to let her face out of the door. “Look, I don’t know what you want, but if this is some kind of Halloween prank, you’re way off-season and dangerously close to being maced.”

The individual extended a hand. A clipboard? Long, bony fingers curled around it? “Miss Nora Ellis,” the figure said, in a voice that sounded like a thousand autumn leaves sighing at once. "You were scheduled for extraction at 3:15 according to my records." Now it is 3:19. I do apologize for the delay—there was a goat on the highway.”

“You were late… to reap me?”

The Reaper—if that’s what it was—nodded solemnly. “Indeed.”

Nora blinked. And did you also bring a clipboard? In rural areas, digital scythes are unreliable. Paperwork has better reception.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then slowly closed the door. “Nope. Not right now. The knocking carried on. “Miss Ellis, I understand this is unexpected, but I have a quota. And a schedule.”

Nora yelled from behind the door, "What if I just... don't come out?" There was a pause. Then a sigh.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that,” the Reaper muttered, flipping through the pages. “Section 7, Clause B… yes, if the soul in question refuses passage, I am permitted to negotiate.”

“Negotiate?” She asked hesitantly. “Yes. In rare cases, the soul may challenge Death… to a game.”

Nora opened the door again, arms crossed. “Like chess?”

“That’s the traditional method.”

She smirked. “Cool. I challenge you to Mario Kart.”

Death blinked. Or at least gave the impression of blinking.

“Mario… Kart?”

“Yeah. Rainbow Road. No mercy.”

Thirty minutes later, the living room was dark except for the flashing colors of the TV. While frantically button-mashing, Nora sat on the couch's edge. The Reaper hunched beside her, skeletal fingers barely managing the joystick.

“HA!” she yelled. “Blue shell! Say goodnight!”

Death groaned as his kart flew off the edge for the fifth time. “This controller is faulty.”

“Nope. You just suck at drifting.”

When the final score tallied, Nora threw her arms in the air. “Victory! Now be gone, foul specter!”

The Reaper slumped. “You have earned your reprieve. Until next time.”

He vanished in a puff of black smoke, muttering something about getting a Nintendo Switch for better practice.

From that day on, Nora kept an extra controller by her TV. Just in case Death decided to try again.

After all, practice makes perfect. Additionally, she did not anticipate losing soon.