Estimated reading time — 10 minutes

“Order somthin’, or git out!” The disheveled and obese bartender belted out from behind the counter.

“A bottle of Glenlivet,” I replied without so much as glancing up from my book.

Moments later, he slammed the bottle down before me along with a small glass.

“Ye best be able to pay fer this,” he grunted looking down at me.

I offered him a hundred dollar bill, but I kept my grip tightly around the thin strip of paper when he attempted to snatch it from between my fingers.

“If you show me such disrespect again, I shall empty this bottle, and refill it with whatever noxious fluids I can drain from your gullet,” I said in a tone free from any semblance of emotion.

He began to retort until I raised my eyes to meet his gaze. His face grew pale as I allowed him the smallest glimpse of what I truly am–a sight which caused him to offer a trembling and anguished apology for his rudeness. He would prove quite respectful for the remainder of the evening.

Perhaps I had lingered upon this uncomfortable stool for far too long without requesting anything from the lowly dive bar I currently occupied. Regardless of that fact, one thing I will not tolerate is disrespect. He had no way of knowing what or who I truly am beneath this mimicked husk of human flesh in which I rested. But that did not grant him the right to be so rude to me. His name may not be in my ledger just yet, but I could easily make his transition quite traumatic when his time to meet with me formally should arrive.

Today’s appointment was not one that I looked forward to. It is true that I would not exactly call my responsibilities enjoyable. But I have performed my duty for eons. As populations grew, it became necessary to bring in assistants–coworkers, for the lack of a better term. Guiding those through the transition from this world to whichever one was next for them, was no small task. When the world was still quite young, and far less feet walked upon it, my duties were fairly simple. My ledger was far slimmer than the one I carry with me now. The company I share with my fellow reapers has grown vast over the centuries. So much so that I rarely have to take part in such meetings as the one that I face today. Generally, I allow my underlings to carry the burden of my work, though certain individuals warrant my direct involvement.

“It’s good to see you, old friend,” the tall, well built and youthful man said as he approached me with his hand outstretched.

“And you,” I replied, grasping his hand in mine.

He took the stool to my left and helped himself to the bottle of whiskey which sat before me on the countertop. I beckoned the filthy bartender for a second glass, which he quickly brought over to where my colleague sat, without so much as uttering a single word.

“He seems nice,” my old friend remarked with a smile.

“He does now,” I replied with a proud sneer across my face.

“What did you do?” The youthful man beside me asked, with a mischievous grin now replacing the kind smile.

“He was rude, so I allowed him a small peek,” I said with a giggle.

Contrary to popular belief, I do have quite the sense of humor. I expect that many would imagine a creature deemed the personification of death to be somewhat morbid, or insufferably melancholy. It is true that I am fully aware of the ‘time and place for everything’ rule. But I am actually quite known for bringing much merriment and levity to my peers. There are few who walk this plane who have much concrete knowledge as to who or what I am. And most who will see my true face may only endure a solitary and terminal meeting with me. It would be quite crude, on my behalf, to bring jokes to such an engagement.

“You never change, Thanatos,” my friend remarked while sharing my laughter.

“So,” he began again, shifting to a new topic of conversation, “What’s this all about? Why did you call me here?”

I had hoped that we could converse just a little while longer before the context of our meeting was revealed. We had not shared one another’s company in quite some time. And I wished to enjoy our time together before diverting to the topic at hand. I know all too well how stubborn the man could be when he made a request that went unanswered for too long. I considered attempting to delay the inevitable conversation. But I feared that time was becoming short as he wished to get ‘straight down to business’, as it were. Very well. As you wish, my dear companion.

“Your time has come, my old friend,” I replied to the spirited young man to my left.

“Cute,” he replied, brushing off my words while taking a deep swig from his glass.

“What are we really here for?” he asked, with a much more firm expression than he wore previously.

“It is as I say,” I remarked, opening my ancient book to reveal its weathered parchment within.

I rippled through the pages, though I knew exactly the location of the one I sought. I do not deny that I was dragging my heels, so to speak. I did not want this for him, though I truly could not know where he was meant to be relocated to. There are many realms, and an abundance of planes of existence. Many of them I know, and can freely enter and exit at will. There are; however, some of which I hold little information about. I have theories on such places, of course. But it could be said that they are a little above my pay grade.

Whatever residence the man beside me was destined for, it was not one that I could visit until, perhaps, my own name appeared upon the pages of my book. In truth, I have no way to know if such a thing could even occur. We all come from somewhere, and we are all bound for someplace else. Whether or not the same rules apply to those such as I, there is no way for me to know.

After the unnecessary leafing of the parchment bound between the weathered and ancient bindings of my book, I slid it across the countertop to my colleague. The wrinkled page held only one name below the numerical order representing the date of this very day. There was no time stamp. I assumed that, perhaps, the Fates saw fit to allow me some measure of control over the ending of this particular rendezvous.

“There’s been some sort of mistake,” my friend exclaimed, sounding remarkably similar to much of the bargaining I have heard in my vast lifetime.

“They do not make mistakes,” I replied, fully aware that he knew this to be true.

There’s a balance, you see. Death is neither a punishment, nor an assault. It is a necessity, I am afraid. That is what those who measure and cut the threads have told me, anyway. Were I to liken my duties to your understanding of employment, I imagine that those three would be considered my upper management. It is not for me to understand the reasoning behind their actions, nor the methods in which they demand them to be carried out. We are all but servants to one higher authority or another. This included the man who sat upon the stool beside me, currently frowning in an expression of utter confusion and bewilderment.

“This isn’t right,” he exclaimed, still bartering for clarity.

“That is not for me to say,” I replied, “You know this as well as I.”

“Let me meet with them!” He said, “Clearly there has been a mix up of some kind!”

He shook his head as his tone gave way to anger. When he pounded his fists on the bar, it caused the obese bartender to jump, while the small gathering of individuals at the large table to the rear of the building turned their gaze towards us.

“Take me to them, Thanatos!” he ordered.

Several more names began to faintly appear on the aged parchment which had previously only reflected one. Amongst these names was one Salvador Anker–the moniker, assigned to the large man who now stood trembling behind the bar in the grease stained shirt.

“Calm yourself!” I demanded, feeling a similar frustration that an exhausted parent may feel for their fit pitching toddler.

“I will not calm myself, Thanatos,” he retorted with his face reddening.

“I do not die!” he spat, pounding the countertop again as the walls of the small pub began to vibrate.

“I cannot die!” he continued, bringing more violence to the shuddering building.

“Take me to them, Thanatos! I order you!” he growled as he hammered his fists one last time onto the counter, which crumbled from the impact.

In an instant, the walls blew apart and the ceiling fragmented, cascading down upon us. A fiery explosion decimated the remaining structure, immediately turning the residents of the building to ash, with the exception of my colleague and I, who still sat perched upon the undamaged stools which remained protected by our presence.

I stared into the eyes of my old friend feeling a sense of disgust and a slight twinge of hatred for his actions. I held his gaze while a handful of my fellow reapers appeared around us to escort those who were not meant to perish this day to whichever afterlife was planned for them.

Their souls stood still in the same locations at which their bodies had occupied only moments before. Each of them wore the same expressions of surprised shock that I have witnessed upon the faces of the recently deceased so many times before.

My old friend cut his eyes away from my accusing gaze. A streak of shame seemed to line his now heavy brow.

“How many more innocent lives must your temper claim?” I asked in a scornful voice.

“I didn’t mean to grow so angry,” he said, shaking his head slowly from side to side.

“I’m not ready to die,” he continued, as his words grew soft and solemn, “I still have so much left to do.”

“That does not grant you permission to prematurely bring an end to innocent lives,” I shouted as though I were a father showing heavy disappointment in my unruly offspring.

He nodded in embarrassed acknowledgement of this foul deed, along with, I would assume, so many more which preceded this.

“You once cared for this world and its people,” I continued my lecture with no desire or intention of holding back my anger with the man I regarded as a friend.

“This is why your time has come!” I gestured towards the smouldering rubble which used to be a pleasant, though somewhat dingy bar.

“Do you not see what you have become!? Such childish tantrums which bring such misery are not the products of the entity I once knew!”

His eyes became glassy as they quivered, bringing forth tears that streamed down his false face.

“Maybe you’re right,” he replied in a trembling voice.

“I’ve grown old, Thanatos…”

He gave a small smile, while his furrowed brow grew soft and peaceful once more.

“I don’t think I realized how heavy the burden of it all had gotten…”

We sat in silence for some time. Perhaps I should not have let my own anger get the better of me. It is true that I was disappointed in his actions. Perhaps I should have arranged this meeting in a more secluded location. I was well aware of the chaos his temper could unleash. But I only wished to share one last drink with my old friend before we said our final goodbye.

He was always partial to Glenlivet, since its creation, anyway. Alcohol did not have the same inebriating effect on beings like us. But when we wore a mortal shell, we could enjoy some of its more…playful qualities. I was selfish in my desire to share this moment together, and I would share his guilt over the events which took place this night.

“I’m scared, my old friend,” he said, breaking the silence which now encompassed the rubble we currently occupied.

“I imagine you hear that a lot,” he chuckled, though his laughter was free of levity.

“We are all afraid in the face of a new chapter,” I said, my voice growing melancholy.

“It’s really over,” he said, more to himself than I.

“Nothing is ever over, my dear friend,” I replied, “You know this as well as I. It’s as they say: when you close a door…”

“I open a window,” he said with a hollow giggle, completing my obvious reference.

“Perhaps where you are headed will bear far less responsibility,” I replied, attempting to sound reassuring.

“You may be but a part of something, and not be forced to bear the weight of it anymore,” I continued, feeling more compassionate towards the crumbling entity of whom I had held close to my heart since this world’s inception.

“Who will carry my burdens once I am no longer able to do so?” he asked as his fabricated eyes began to well up again.

“Someone new,” I said, wrapping my arm around the man who seemed little more than a child to me at the moment.

“Someone fresh,” I continued, lightly rubbing my friends back in an effort to console his heavy heart.

“Perhaps someone who will find love in the responsibilities of which you tired so very long ago.”

He nodded, wrapping his own weary arm around me.

“How is it that you know me so well?” he asked, forming his lips into a small smile.

“Perhaps I am simply incredibly good at my job,” I replied, and we shared a genuine chuckle as though we were still as close as we once were.

“Shall we?” I asked, nodding my head in the direction of the simple wooden door which materialized behind us.

“You’ll walk with me?” he asked, staring at the tarnished exit to another place.

“For as long as I am able,” I replied, rising from the stool which still remained untouched amongst the rubble of the otherwise obliterated tavern.

“Who knows,” he said, “maybe we’ll be together again someday soon.”

He offered me a genuine smile which provided me with the realization that he had accepted the reality of what lies ahead.

“Someday, perhaps,” I replied, “For now, I believe…I have miles to go before I sleep.”

With that, I pulled open the ancient, wooden door, which led to a path across which I had guided many souls before. I walked side by side with the man with whom I had not conversed for many years prior to this unfortunate rendezvous. We spoke of events we had shared through the ages and we once more looked upon each other as brothers.

He talked of how exhausted he had become, and that it took this very meeting for him to fully appreciate the gravity of many atrocities he had allowed to befall the people he had once adored.

By the time we reached the end of the path which gave way to an enormous and elegant ironlike gate, he thanked me for being a friend to him this one final time.

As the hinges gave way and the aura of what lay beyond reached out towards us, I watched the fabricated human shell melt from around the boy I had once known, to reveal the God he had become. I had almost forgotten how warm and vibrant he glowed.

He turned to me for the last time, before he stepped into the beyond.

“Watch over them for me, my friend,” he said, his voice strong and proud.

He turned his gaze back towards the eternity within his reach.

“I feel lighter all of a sudden,” his words echoed as they reverberated against whatever wonders lay on the other side.

For a moment, I was almost envious of him. I so desperately wished to see what he now looked upon, but it remained out of my grasp.

“I will see you again, my old friend,” were his final words to me as his light blended with the glorious hues beyond.

As the gates swung shut once more, I heard the heavy latch lock him away from me. A deep and sudden sadness ripped through me while I stood in place, staring blankly at the entrance I through which longed so badly to cross, myself.

A legacy has ended. The world will mourn for its loss, though they may not be aware of the inspiration for their tears today. Perhaps they shall never truly understand what they have lost.

But I will.

Fare thee well, my dearest friend…

Credit: William Rayne

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