The Telling of A Wordless Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is short story from Death's POV.

Submitted: March 05, 2010

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Submitted: March 05, 2010

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It was another same day. I traveled from house-to-house, city-to-city, country-to-country, and so forth, collecting all the lost souls. It was the same old story every time. The person had already left his or her body by the time I would make it over there. All the souls I went to collect would be wondering around lost and scared until I found them, calmed them down, and sent them up…or down. It all depended on the judgment of their soul. I didn’t think about my job anymore. After centuries and centuries of the same pattern repeated a thousand times a day, my job, and my life, or shall I say existence, became a monotone of the same things repeated over and over again. My mind responded numbly and quickly to collecting the souls. Thinking was no longer needed. The job was pure habit.

Everything was going normal like it has over the centuries, until, one day I came across a soul by the name of Robert. It was nothing I had ever seen. He wasn’t wondering around like every lost soul was; glad to finally be free of that tortures human body. Robert was trying so frantically to go back to place of the living, trying to pull at the body with no results, and trying to enter by lying on top of the lifeless corps, but, once again, with no success. I went up to confused soul, and as I approached, it cringed away from my presence. All the methods I’ve used on other souls weren’t affective on this strange, confused one. We never talked, for this was not a place of words, but of feeling. I could sense his desperation to return to the human part of the earth. Then, suddenly, I could, hear, see and experience his story, the story of the ending of his mortal life. After being bored for so many centuries, I quickly invited in the strange story, and let the telling of it overcome my entire being.

It was cold that very morning. Robert could remember his hands freezing on the steering wheel, due to the lack of any air conditioner, as he headed over to see his beautiful, newly wed wife. They had argued the night before even though they had only gotten married a week ago, and he was coming back home to apologize and make everything work right again. It was a very high traffic hour, and he was barely crawling his way along the overstuffed streets of the city. He had never expected what would come next. It seemed like impossibility. Why would it have ever happened to him? What were the chances? He believed he had no reason to lock the door. It was just some stupid lock that was only used for when he was out of the car. Wrong. That inconsequential little detail would have saved his precious little life.

While he barely moving under five miles an hour, that’s when he attacked. An auto theft. He took him to just simply pull Robert out of the front driver seat and “Bang!” dead. Robert was hurt over the fact that his wife would now be forced to live on her own and never know how truly sorry her husband was. She would live in lonely sadness, believing that her husband had hated her until his death. All Robert was able to hope for now was that she would find somebody else to love and watch over her, making her happy. With this resolve Robert solemnly let me hand his soul over to its destined position in heaven or hell. Normally, I would not had cared any which way it went, but I was glad to see that it went to the place of forgiveness.


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