by Abby Gayle
I hadn't expected him to visit so soon.
|I slowly made my way to the door when the doorbell rang.
Who could that be? I wondered, I'm not expecting anyone today.
I peeked through the peephole, but only saw darkness. I opened the door to the black-cloaked man.
"Come in, come in, Mr. Reaper!" I said, "My, you're here early! Or am I behind again?"
"No, I'm early," the man said, stepping inside. He used his scythe like a staff, the end tapping the floor as he walked.
"Sit down," I suggested, "Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you," Grim declined politely after taking a seat.
I sat next to him.
"So, how's the wife?" I asked.
"The screeching drives me crazy sometimes, but the Banshee's a nice lady, overall."
There was a moment of silence, which allowed me to remember my first meeting with the Grim Reaper.
I was a little girl when I nearly died. Somewhere around seven years old. The Grim Reaper was there right when I started choking.
He was supposed to wait until a few minutes had passed, then take me away with him, but then he mumbled something about it not being right. I guess the other Reapers followed the rules better, but by breaking them, he saved me.
Soon after, he visited me to see if I was okay. We ended up chatting and we became friends. From then on he came to my house twice a year. He told me that any more than that and his boss would notice.
But this time he was almost two months ahead of schedule. I had a feeling this unexpected visit was related to his work.
"So . . . why are you here right now? I thought we agreed long ago that twice a year was as often as we could visit."
"Yes, we agreed seventy years ago, I remember. I have some work in the area and I thought I'd come by."
"Which house?" I asked.
Grim hesitated before telling me.
"This one," he said finally.
It took a moment for me to comprehend even just those two words.
"You mean . . . " I started.
He gently nodded his head.
"So, can I see what your face looks like under the hood?" I asked. I had never seen his face in the entire time I had known him.
He slowly lifted his hood up. When he brought his arms back to his sides, I recognised him, even though it had been over seventy years since I had seen his face last.
"Grandpa Greg?" I asked.
He nodded and smiled. I just hoped I could be with my grandfather for the rest of eternity. That was the last thing I remembered before I went to sleep.