Reapers Reaping

Odaise Gaelach

This story was both at times very easy to write and at other times very difficult. The story is a little predictable and tiresome, and the writing's not perfect, but I think that it's finished.

Anyway, it weighs in at 2426 words (4 pages) which is a comfortable length for me. Enjoy!

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Reapers Reaping

Steven was outside in the sweltering heat, walking by himself down Main Street in Cavan. Walking past the newsagents and the fountain and the shops, looking at all the people in their thin t-shirts and shorts, some with sunglasses on.
He stopped in the shade outside the Melbourne café and took a deep breath of the hot air. Mingled with the dusty streets and the scent of freshly-baked shepherd’s pie from inside, he could almost believe that he wasn’t in Cavan at all, but on the streets of Paris or Florence.
He ran a hand over his forehead to clean the small layer of sweat that had accumulated there. He was grateful that he had decided to put on sun cream today. It was July, and the whole country was in the middle of a heatwave. Steven’s blue eyes were tired and he felt sapped by the warmth. It made his shaggy blonde hair very greasy and he was forced to wash it daily. But at least the hot weather was better than rain.
He stood outside the café and waited.
The sun drifted lazily past midday when Sally came. She was as bubbly as ever, the heat doing nothing to dispel her good mood. Steven worked in Dunnes Stores and she worked in the Crannóg bookshop, further up the street. They were good friends, and usually had lunch together.
“Hiya,” she called. She waved pleasantly at him and he waved back at her.
“How’s work?” he asked.
“Ugh, hot,” she grinned. “You?”
“Not too bad. At least the shop’s cool enough.”
“Lucky,” she said and playfully punched him on the shoulder.
They walked into the Melbourne together, ordering two Coca-Cola’s and a sandwich each. Unlike Steven’s shaggy blonde hair, Sally had short, straight, shiny red hair. But her eyes were the same, mysterious blue shade as Steven’s. They sat down at a table near the back of the café where it was cool (but still deeply warm), to drink their coke and eat their sandwiches.
At the table opposite them there was an elderly man who was struggling in the hot weather. He had to pull himself off his seat, and stood with the aid of two crutches. His movements were small and jerky.
But Steven knew that he wasn’t shaking from the heat. The real reason was far worse. Steven could feel the weakness coming off him. It felt wrong, like how you feel just before you’re about to get sick (though Steven didn’t feel nauseous). Like a bad smell, though it in itself was odourless.
He knew that the old man was dying. He had about six months left to live. Steven knew all this without being told, because he could feel it in him. The man had a brain tumour, and as it swelled and grew inside him it was putting pressure on his brain. It was already beginning to impair his motor functions.
He knew what would happen after that. The man was going to deteriorate until he was bedridden, then slip into a coma, getting weaker by the day, until...
...I come...
No, not Steven. Not for him, anyway.
Sally stared back at the old man as he hobbled away and the feeling began to leave Steven.
“It’s sad, isn’t it...” she said.
“What?”
“That we’re all going to... to turn out like that.”
Oh God don’t start Steven thought to himself. It’s bad enough when you talk about it; you don’t have to feel them dying...
“I know I’m only thirty,” Sally continued, “but I can’t help but think about it. Even little children, or toddlers and babies grow old someday.”
“Yeah, but that’s still a long way away, isn’t it. For you and for me,” Steven said. “We just have to live life as best we can.”
Sally watched the man closely, as he made his way out of the Melbourne.
“Yeah,” she replied and she turned back to her sandwich.
“Speaking of which, you hear that Mary McIntyre took a turn for the worst last night?”
“No, I didn’t,” Steven replied. “I visited her yesterday, but she seemed to be getting better. She was in good form.”
But she really doesn’t have long left, does she. Because I could feel that the illness was finally getting the better of her. I had to go for her husband five years ago and soon I’m going to have to do the same with her.
“Oh,” Sally said, before taking a mouthful of her drink. “Well, the doctor said that there’s not much hope for her left. He can’t put her on a higher dose of antibiotics without damaging her kidneys. But y’never know, she might still pull through. She’s a tough one.”
But Steven could tell from Sally’s expression that she wasn’t going to pull through. Poor old Mary McIntyre was fading away, just like the man with the brain tumour was.
“Anyway,” Steven said, wanting to change the subject. “What’re you up to in this weather?”
“Oh, the usual,” Sally replied, sipping more of her drink.

Odaise Gaelach

Steven lived only a short distance away from work, so everyday he walked to Dunnes Stores in the morning and back home again in the evening. When he did finally reach home that evening he felt completely drained. Half of it was from walking in the relentless heat; even at half six when he left the shop it was still very bright and sunny.
But that wasn’t the whole reason for his exhaustion. He lived down the road past Mary McIntyre, and had to walk by her house. Even from across the road he could feel her getting weaker. The illness had taken over her frail old body. Maybe she’d have another few days before-
...I come...
-she passed away.
Suddenly Steven thought about his own grandfather. I was him that told Steven how to feel people dying.
”It’s like radiation,” he explained. “You can see or smell or taste it, but it makes you feel strange, or sick even. That’s how it’s like. You’ll be able to tell who’s bad and who’s not.”
Mary McIntyre. She was good friends with Steven’s grandfather.
It was his grandfather who was the first person that Steven could feel dying. It was only until Steven finally learned how to feel that he realised why his grandfather passed him on the skills.
Because he didn’t have long left himself...
Suddenly he didn’t want to think about it anymore.

Odaise Gaelach

Steven went to bed early that night, worn out from the heat and the faint-but-consistent feeling that emanated from Mary’s house.
It was around half one when he woke up again. Suddenly, inexplicably, and with a rush of cold adrenaline that revived him from head to toe.
He didn’t know what had woken him. He reached over and turned on his bedside lamp, squinting in the sudden brightness, then glancing at the clock.
And, as his senses began to sharpen, he realised why he had woken up.
The feeling was stronger now than ever before. He knew that eighty-seven-year-old Mary McIntyre was about to die. It was his turn now to help her on her way.
He got up tiredly, stretched and yawned, and then knelt down and reached under his bed. He pulled out a black cloak from in there – the same black cloak that his grandfather had worn and given him. It was old beyond imagination, but was still tearless and seamless, odourless, and the fabric as smooth as if it was new. Its inky black colour hadn’t faded in a thousand years.
Steven didn’t bother to change out of his boxers and t-shirt. He just pulled the cloak over him and covered his head and face with the hood. He didn’t wear any socks or shoes, favouring a pair of sandals instead for events like this.
He walked out of his bedroom and stopped at his front door. He closed his eyes, breathed in a deep breath, felt himself relax and melt a little, then stepped through the door.
For the moment that he was inside the door he could feel the wood rubbing against his cloak, and the door’s solidity pressing against him.
Then he was outside. The street was dark and empty, and the sky above was starless. The air was hot and heavy, but not nearly as bad as it was in the middle of the day. Compared to that it was quite cool.
Steven walked down the street, heading towards Mary McIntyre’s house. One time he saw a man and a woman across the road from him but they didn’t see him at all. The black cloak kept Steven invisible. He was hidden, drifting down the pavement like a ghost, his sandals silent against the cement under his feet.
He came to Mary McIntyre’s house, took another deep breath, quickly readied himself and walked through her door.
Inside the house was completely quiet. Mary had no children and she had lived alone ever since her husband died.
Steven ascended the narrow staircase to her room. The steps, normally creaky, didn’t make a sound when he walked up them.
He came to her room. No need for subtlety now; he just opened the door, walked inside, and shut it again. The room was very dark, but he could make out the bed, and Mary, fast asleep-
-and then he noticed the black-cloaked figure kneeling beside her.
Steven gasped in surprise and he startled the stranger. Her head snapped round to him. She had her hood down, and Steven saw her face.
It was Sally.
“You!” Steven barked.
Sally looked at him quizzically, then recognised him.
“You!” she answered.
Steven pulled his hood off his face.
“You’re wearing...” Sally whispered.
“Yup.”
“You do this too?”
“Yup.”
“Since when?”
“Since my grandfather died, around seven years ago.”
Sally gave him a wan, tired grin.
“I’ve only been doing it for three. My aunt taught me.”
“Oh.”
Steven went and knelt down beside Sally. It was only when he was close to her that he saw that she had been crying.
“You okay?” he frowned.
“Yeah, yeah,” she replied, wiping a hand over her cheeks. “I always get like this when I have to do it.”
“It gets easier y’know,” he said comfortingly.
“Yeah, I know... So, do you want the honours?”
“Hmm?” he wondered what she meant before realising. “Oh. You’re sure you don’t want to do it?”
“No, it’s too hard for me...” she grinned sadly again.
Steven looked at her, and was surprised at how emotional she felt by it. Steven never felt any grief or remorse over anybody – except, maybe, his own grandfather. But the more he thought about it the less that it surprised him.
Even if she is a Grim Reaper, she’s still just a human after all...
“Right,” he sighed, and pulled up his sleeve.
“Can I... can I talk to her for a minute, before...”
Steven frowned. This was very unorthodox, but it wouldn’t do any harm to let her. And if it made her feel better...
“Fine.”
He pulled his back hood over his face, and Sally turned on the bedside lamp. The light began to disturb Mary McIntyre’s sleep, and then she opened a tired eye.

Odaise Gaelach

“Sally?” she said weakly, only seeing one person there.
“Yes, it’s me Mrs. McIntyre.”
“What time is it?”
“About half one,” Sally answered.
“Ah,” she responded, a sigh of understanding. “So then, love, you’re here to send me on my way beyond this life then?”
“Sort of. I’m really really sorry Mary.”
“It’s all right love. Doctor said that there wasn’t much hope left for me... but I don’t mind. I’ve lived well. I’ve had a happy life. I had a childhood, I met my husband, I fell in love... When I was your age I never thought that any of those things were ever possible... But I was wrong.”
“Yeah, I know...”
“Don’t worry about me pet. You’ve got a long life ahead of you. Worry about that instead...”
“I will Mary... I promise...”
Mary’s eyelids began to droop and Steven knew that this was the time.
He pulled up his sleeve and reached out to Mary. His hand touched her thin quilt, and then it sank down into it, down into her breast and into her body. He felt the cold bone in her ribs, next her lung gently expanding and contracting, full of warm air, and then he could feel her heart. It was the only thing that felt solid against his hand.
He gently gripped it, and started to feel the tingling in his fingers.
Mary breathed out contently, and stopped. Her eyes never opened again.
When Steven brought his hand out of the quilt he was holding a tiny ball of brilliant light, no bigger than a golf ball. He knew that the colour of the light varied from person to person. Mary’s was a gorgeous shade of purple, and it fluttered and danced around in his hand like a butterfly.
Steven put his hands around the ball of light.
“C’mon,” he whispered to Sally.
Slowly she stood up, and turned off the bedside lamp.
“Okay,” she sighed heavily.
She opened the bedroom door for Steven and they walked down the stairs. One after another they walked through the front door, and they were standing out on the empty street again.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Ready.”
Steven raised his hands up and opened them.
The beautiful, little, purple ball of light flew up from his palms and up into the air, spiralling upwards and illuminating the darkness, slowly getting higher and higher.
“Beautiful...” Sally whispered, her eyes wide.
The purple light – Mary’s soul – flew up high into the night’s starless sky, over some houses at the other side of the street, over the roofs. They could see its vibrant glow for a second, then it disappeared from view.
“Goodbye Mary,” Steven whispered.
They stood there for a minute, staring at the part of the roof where Mary’s soul had flown away, as free as a bird. Eventually Sally yawned, breaking the silence.
“Well, then,” she said. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess.”
“Yeah, okay,” Steven replied. “Sleep well.”
“You too. Good night.”
Sally smiled – a genuine, happy, beaming smile. Then she turned around and began to walk home.
Steven turned in the opposite direction, and started walking home too. All the while he was smiling, his mind thinking of both the beautiful purple light that was Mary McIntyre’s soul, and of Sally.