The Strangest Thing

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Who is she? A very short story.

Submitted: April 14, 2017

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Submitted: April 14, 2017

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The Strangest Thing.

 

Hear the name, the Grim Reaper, and what image pops up in your mind. Odds are you are now picturing a black robed figure. Maybe the face isn’t visible, hidden in the depths of one very large hood. Or perhaps you are seeing a skull-like visage, hollows for eyes, exceedingly sharp cheek-bones, and a lipless mouth full of teeth.

 

And what does your Grim Reaper carry? A scythe, perhaps, or a sword. Some have said he walks along ringing a large, low-toned bell. Remember the saying, ‘For whom the bell tolls’; whose turn is it to be? Perhaps he drags along a large rusty chain that clanks and rattles as it gets near.

 

Is he walking? Is he riding? Is he driving some kind of carriage, pulled along by a skeletal phantom horse? The image is always black, black, and more black, with maybe a splash of grey thrown in for good measure.

 

The Grim Reaper! It seems to always conjure up a male image for some reason. Only a man, even a dead one, can be pictured as being an escort to your own death. But just supposing that image is entirely wrong; that the Grim Reaper is in fact young, female, and what many would call beautiful.

 

Look at me for here I am. The Grim Reaper in person. Not one trace of black in sight. No scythe, no sword, no phantom horse. Just a clock! And look at my face!

There is not a hint of threat to be found.

 

This clock is your life, each tick a heartbeat. I am holding it out before you, letting you listen to the steady beat. I smile, a nice heartfelt smile, one that speaks of kindness and promises. One that does not hint at death at all. But when I lift that clock up high and drop it hard to the ground it signifies just that – your death.

 

For I am the Grim Reaper. And your time is up!


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