The Grim Chronicles

The realm of the dead fell silent as I returned from the realm of the living. I gripped my scythe with my skeleton hand and pulled it across my body. I pulled my wings around my body and brushed its black wings with my other hand. I was the avenger of the living, the Angel of Death, the Grim Reaper.
I walked along a path of bones, my sandals crushing against the broken bones that gave way to those who had been brought below. A thick layer of mist began to rise the further down the path I descended and a cold stroke of air pressed against my robe.
In front of me stood the soul of my recently claimed victim, his name was Sam Walker, the father of two, killed in a car crash. His son would start smoking after his death and in 55 years, I will go and claim his soul like I have his fathers.
The mist grew thicker until all that could be seen was the ghostly figure of Sam and the path of broken bones below him. I slowly raised my free hand and placed it on his shoulder.
“We shall wait for the boat.” I told him. He stopped and slowly turned around looked into my hood. He could not see my face, just a dark hole of nothing. I pulled my wings to shield his soul and then spoke to him.
“The boat shall take you to the Netherworld and you will rest there for all eternity.” I spoke into his ear. Tears slowly ran down his cheeks as he knew the inevitable was about to begin.
“Do not be afraid.” I told him, raising my hand from his shoulder to his cheek. “You will soon be at peace in this world and you will meet your loved ones again. This is not the end, but a new beginning.” I told him, I was the Angel of Death and I was the bringer of misery but I was not an evil soul. Those that had been taken away before their time had suffered enough.
The mist soon cleared as a boat came into view. A long boat sailed up the river of the condemned and halted in front of Sam. A lone skeleton put down his sail and picked up a scroll from his boat and opened it slowly,
“Sam Walker, aged 28, killed in a car crash. Married to Catherine Mia aged 24, gave birth to 2 children both twins aged 3. Come with me…” He said, his voiced echoed and cut into the heart of anyone who heard it. Sam climbed into the boat and sat down on the side. He would stay on that boat for the next 300 years until he reaches his destination, a pity to him that what he is going to is not as exciting as he made it to be.
Gripping my scythe with both my hands, I opened my wings; their black feathers soared into the air and lifted me from the path. I glided my way through the thickest of the mist, through the damp breeze that polluted the air and into the never ending night. Nothing could calm the storm of the Reaper; nothing could calm the storm of the eternal dead.
It would take a soul 300 years to pass the river of the commended, but for me it was a simple flight for those who possessed the ability to fly. As the mist grew away, the sight of the land became visible, a clump of rocks and mountains. This was where those who had died would live til the end of time.
Time was ever lasting, there was no day only night, there was no noise just silence. There was no one else apart from you in this realm, and as empty as it looked, things were getting busy.
I flapped my wings and drew myself closer to the ground; I caught the air and landed upon the ground with a thud as my sandals slammed onto the ground. My wings pulled themselves together and I straightened my robes.
Pulling my scythe into one hand and slammed it onto the floor; the shinning blade rattled and then remained still. I placed my hands onto the floor and slowly began to walk up the mountainous terrain.
As I looked around, I could see the soul of a lone person or a group of two or three, but they did not speak to anyone. On the journey to the realm that usually lost the ability and the will to speak, just the eerie silence and the tapping of my sandals could be heard.
The mountains began to grow closer, spreading my wings once more and took flight above them. I knew not how badly those that were forced here suffered and survived; there was no clear direction or answer to that. Many had lived here for thousands of years, never to leave.
Many tried to swim away from this island, swim for another 300 years to try and escape the cursed island. There was no way to escape, they would just swim for all eternity, never to drown, never to reach the bottom of the sea.
If I were to be cursed here, I don’t know how I would cope. No sound, no voice, no belief. Just a place of emptiness and misery, not a smile nor a frown, it was the worst possible vision of Hell.
The water was sour, the ground was hard, and I still can’t believe souls have been cursed here for thousands of years. Just standings or sitting, with only small memories that slowly faded away…
I flew up the mountains, my wings cut through the air with a swoosh. Through the mist and up the mountain stood a throne, a long, stone throne, my one place in this realm, above those below me and alone by myself. I flattered my wings to slow me down and then halted in front of the throne.
The arms of the chair were several bones of the dead, souls that had left their bodies and given themselves up for me. This was my kingdom and this was my prison. Forever to be harvesting souls and taking them to my own Hell.
Once a day I could travel to the realm of the living, marvel at its success and long to want a life their. I could never have the chance to see the sun, never have a chance to love or be happy. I would forever be cursed to take away the souls of loved ones and place them in here.
Only those who are about to die can see me and when they see me they know there about to die. I strike fear into their hearts and pull away their souls, taking away everything they loved through one swing.
I sat upon my throne, waiting for nothing. Just sitting, longing to die and be away from this Hell. Wait for the impossible.
After a few moments of rest I pulled my scythe to one of my hands and thrust my hand forward. With a single word I summoned the object of pure hatred and darkness.
“Lucifer.”
With that word, a scroll rushed into my hand from the distance. The Scroll of Death I called it, for obvious reasons. It told me the name of the next soul I would be forced to harvest.
Time did not exist in my kingdom; there were no seconds or hours, just… nothing. The living counted how long it took for the sun to rise, to set and to rise again, but no sun brightened my world, no light gave happiness in my world. Just the forever darkness.
I gripped the scroll with my free hand and opened it, the scroll slowly slide open to reveal nothing. I placed my skeleton finger on the scroll and slowly, the name of my next victim slowly appeared.
“Richard Smith aged 98, dead from a heart attack.” The scroll read. I closed it and threw it to the ground; it fell through the mist and through the mountain to an unknown region of the cursed island.
I picked up my scythe and slashed it through the air, as I did a black hole ripped through the air. It was a portal to where ever I wanted, but I could only go where the scroll wanted me to go or I would be pulled into an eternal void. At the moment an eternal void sounded better than here.
“Richard Smith.” I said, gentle into the portal. As I did, colour slowly turned and it showed the inside of a home. I could see a single bed, a poster of U2 above it and an old man resting in it, hooked up to a life support machine.
I placed my hand through the portal and pulled myself through it, within a second I was inside the man’s room, staring at him lying in his bed.
The machine flat lined, it must have been for several minutes but no one came. The man was dead and his soul was mine. I slowly walked up to him and placed my hand upon his forehead.
The man slowly began to open his eyes, his breathing returned to him and he was alive again, to him anyway. He was dead still, but for the moment he had a chance to say goodbye to those who thought him dead.
“Where…where am I?” He asked. He looked around the room and suddenly saw me, my long black robes, my skeleton hand, my hood over my face and my scythe in my hand. He stared at me for a moment, not believing his eyes. I spread my wings out in all their majesty, like a God had blessed him with something so beautiful it could man the coldest of men cry in their beauty.
I wrapped my wings around the man, my wings curled up around him to hide him from everything else.
“Richard Smith, I am here to take you away.” I said gentle, he seemed to be unafraid, like he knew his fate and was prepared to go. Death was something that few accepted. Could he be one who did?
“Am I going to a nice place?” He asked me, his voice was old and weak yet said words like he knew what he wanted and wanted it now.
“Yes.” I lied. “You are going to a nice place.” The man sighed and looked down to the floor.
“Am I going to Heaven?” He asked, tears rolling down his eyes. Even though he accepted his death, it doesn’t mean he does not fear what happens in the afterlife.
“You’re going to a beautiful place.” I lied again; it was impossible to tell him the truth.
“Will my family be there?” He asked once again, tears descending down his cheek like bullets.
“They will be soon. But for now, you shall be with you old family, the ones who have already passed away.” I told him, things soon became unbearable to lie again.
“Will I enjoy it?” He asked me. I needed to tell him yes, but I could not bear to lie again.
“No. No you will not…” I whispered, but he heard me all the same. Tears began to roll down his cheeks; I couldn’t bare to do this anymore.
“Come. We must go.” As I finished, several men burst into the room, unaware of myself or the man’s presence.
I pulled my scythe forward with both hands and swung my hand through the man’s body. He didn’t scream, he didn’t say anything, just stood there, silent. His body ripped in half and fell to the floor, but as both sides of the body fell, an almost transparent image of the man appeared, like a ghost cut out from his shell.
“What’s happening to me..?” He asked, whimpering over the words, almost crying.
“You will be sent to the realm of the dead and you will remain there. Forever. I am sorry…” I replied, almost stumbling over my words; this wasn’t what I wanted to do.
“Can’t you let me go?” He asked, crying louder and louder. The men in the room couldn’t see him, just worked over an empty bed trying to bring the man back alive.
“I’m sorry.” Without another word, I gripped his arm and dragged his soul into the portal and then he slung into the Underworld. I slowly turned to the portal and stared into it for a while. The man was on the other side, looking around, fear finally hit him as he turned around and started banging on the portal. He wouldn’t get through it, not unless I wanted him to, which I couldn’t. No matter how much I wanted to.
I pushed my leg through the portal, and pull the rest of my body through pushing the old man’s soul to the ground. He whelped in pain as the pathway of broken bones cut into his back. If he were still alive, blood would pour down his back, but his soul just screamed and screamed in pain.
I walked over to him and pulled out my hand, which he screamed at the sight. My skeleton hand was had driven struck fear into his heart, he wouldn’t get up without my help, he was too old. I bent down and picked him up by his arm and planted him on his feet.
“Please don’t keep me here; I have done nothing wrong my entire life!” He screamed, crying as he did. I tried to place my hand on his arm to calm him down but he merely pushed it away and curled into a ball on the floor.
“Do not make this harder then it already was.” I tried to tell him, but he wouldn’t listen. He was no longer restricted movement by his age as he jumped onto his feet and ran into me. As he went to grip my robe, I pulled his arm and pulled it up and held him up.
I was much taller then he was, I spread my wings and surrounded us within them. He began huffing and puffing, but to no success did he get away from my grip.
“I do not take pleasure in doing what I do. I have no choice, now do as I say and follow me. Or I shall be forced to drag you.” I dropped him on the floor and looked down on him. He began sobbing away, just sitting there crying. It almost broke my heart that such a man who had appeared so stern and heroic reduced to tears like this.
In almost three million years I’ve had to do this, why had this man got through to me. I was born to do this and I shall never die doing this. I am forced to do this for an eternity, like those here were destined to stay here.
I walked over to the man and walked past him. As I suspected, he followed me crying and sobbing, but trying to keep up. As the mist grew stronger and his vision weaker I stopped.
“We shall wait for the boat.” I told him, placing my hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off, but I knew all he wanted now was someone to be with him.
The mist grew even thicker and then the boat came floating above the river. The man walked to the edge of the boat, a skeleton like the last and looked down upon both of them.
“Richard Smith, 98, died of a heart attack, divorced, father to Bill Smith 42, Grandfather to Princess Smith, 20 and Wendy Smith, 24. Come with me.” The skeleton held out his boney hand like he had done to the man and Richard grabbed it and slowly was pulled onto the boat and doomed to sail for the next 300 years.
I am the harbinger of Death and I am chained to a doomed existence. I would give anything to be alive, even for a second, to feel a breeze upon my skin, to breathe a single puff of air, to feel compassion to another. But we can never have what we really desire, no matter how much we try. Sometimes we are just doomed to die and not return.
I am alone, in a world full of corpses. Do not pity me, I know you fear me. But all I want is to break my chains and be free from this curse. Yet never shall this come to me. Never shall it reach me and never shall I be free. There is no Death; there is nothing but to envy the living, something I do every waking moment of this doomed existence.
But before I could do anymore, the scroll from my robe popped open.
“Tony Johnson, aged 4, burnt alive.” And so the cycle continues.