The List, Chapter 1, Fear

1.Fear

It’s Tuesday. A detestable day. You can’t look forward to the end on Tuesday. You can’t look forward to the beginning. It’s no man’s land.

The trees are malnourished and the wind cuts at my face. The lengthy country lane leading to my school is littered with a collection of leaves and old crisp packets. Huddling into my scarf, I contemplate why on earth I chose to come back here. The weather is insufferable.

Finally reaching the warmth of the building, I take a soothing breath. That’s the only good thing about St. John’s School; the heating is sound. I walk into my form class. The other students recoil, as they always do. Sitting in my usual seat at the back, I watch them. Alone.

I catch Miss Wallis’ eye. She flinches. They’re most uncomfortable when they have to look at me. When they have to look into my eyes. Most can only manage a second in length before it gets too much, before the fear consumes them. They know I’m different.

What I bring is not from the living. I am unnatural. I reside amongst the living when I should rest amongst the dead.

I made a deal. I once thought it was a good deal. But it is a deal I now regret. A deal I don’t know how to get myself out of.

I look down to the List. Twenty names in total today. Not very many at all. Boss must be feeling lazy. Neglecting his duties. Or he’s in a good mood. Allowing people more time. More time with their family.

Family. I feel a hint of nostalgia as I think back to mine. I remember my mum. Her wavy blonde hair and her watery blue eyes. A feeling lingers inside my chest... love, almost. Or a reflection of love, at least. A reflection of how I used to feel.

I’ve learnt not to feel anything since I came back. It’s easier. When you do...what I do. Feelings get in the way. Besides, most people are afraid of me. They don’t want me to take them. They want to deny it.

It’s the same when people mourn. That’s the first thing I did. I returned to see my mother, to see how she was coping.
All I saw was denial. She denied all sense of loss. I didn’t hang around to see her accept it. I didn’t hang around to dwell on my guilt. I had work to do.

Looking back down to the List, I read through the names mechanically. I notice a Daniel James. It sounds familiar. Daniel James. Of course, he’s the boy from my English class. I wonder how long he has left.

The names that appear are out of my control. Their fate is sealed. Inevitable. I am simply the messenger. The harbinger. The delivery boy. They are marked to die by powers beyond their control. Only the very lucky escape him once they’re on the List, simply by chance or lucky intervention.

Perhaps I’m painting my boss wrong. That makes him sound malevolent. And he’s not really. He’s just... necessary. And unmoving. He doesn’t pick and choose who has to die. It’s just the natural order of the world. And usually when you’re name appears on the List, your time to go is near.

The boss used to do it all on his own. But centuries of collecting those on his List gets old. So, he built a team. Free choice, of course. I chose this existence. And you only have to do it until you’re ready to move on. You are free to end it.

But I’m not ready to end it. The sick truth is I don’t want to end it yet. There’s something of a thrill about it. Collecting the deceased. I never did anything so interesting before I died.

My life had been devoid of excitement. I’d lived with my mum, my dad and my little sister. A pathetic life. Cut short at seventeen. Dad was the only one who did anything remotely interesting before I died. And when I think of what it was that he did...well, I can’t think of it.

When I remember my dad it makes me feel sick. Which is unfortunate because I see him every time I look in the mirror. Dark hair and ice blue eyes. I’m reminded of how much I dislike him. I try to avoid mirrors.

Death has made my mind faster too. I’m not weighed down by earthly worries. All I have to do is exist. I don’t have to care for anyone. I don’t have to worry about anyone. All I have is the List. I only need worry about myself and the List.

And it’s as I’m looking at the List, looking at my daily chores, when it happens. When she arrives and changes everything.

I’m scanning the names. Most of them are unfamiliar. I’m fully absorbed in my job, when I’m interrupted by an alien sound.