Coming Of The Reaper

I find myself at a loss. I pack the stuff up and get downstairs, where I can bandage this cut. I make my way into the bathroom into the medicine cabinet. I take the first aid out from the cabinet and take the gauze packet out. I run cold water. I can't help but feel something surreal.

I clean the cut and finally manage to bandage it up. I find myself sitting on the edge of my bathtub. I can't seem to tie how I got onto the bathtub after bandaging my cut. I feel like static is in my brain.

I can't hold onto a train of thought and the stress is getting to my body. My head spins as I move onwards to my room. I can barely see anything. My eyes are burning as if I have been staring at something for hours. I rub my eyes as I walk the hallway slowly.

"Wonder what that's all about." I say to myself.

The green hallway is taunting me. It seems to go on forever. I can feel my heart throbbing. 'Badump... Badump...' It's so loud I can hear it. The room waves with the beat of my heart. I make my way through my bedroom door and can't help but slam the door as I feel the floor greet me. I don't feel any pain from the impact.

I lay on the floor staring at the closed doorways bottom. I can't help but wonder still what grandpa's box had that note in it for. I know it says it's for me but I feel like this is just some kind of prank.

I smell a harsh pit of ash and tar drift into my nose as I head footsteps coming towards my room. each step makes the smell worse. Black smoke seeps in from the bottom of the doorway. I roll onto my stomach. I go to get up but I have no strength in my legs.

"hello?!" I call out.

No answer. Just empty silence and more smoke billowing in from the bottom of my bedroom door. I feel my heart race faster.

The footsteps finally hit the door and the smoke is so thick I can hardly see anything at all. My lungs feel as if they are burning up. I haven't been in smoke like this ever. For some reason, the room gets to reeking of rot as my door swings open to a black silhouette.

The figure carries a long staff and extends a limb. I feel this thingnpick me up and carry me by the back of my shirt. I can't move or anything. The only conclusion I have would be wrong to inhale that smoke. I can't even seem to breath anymore. The world is going hazier.

I close my eyes for what I think of as only a moment. When I open them again and try to make sense of this situation at all, we are already on a black motorcycle with me laid across the back. I close my eyes again. I can't help but feel exhausted.

"Up." I hear a heavy deep raspiness say.

I open my eyes and I see what looks like a man. though his skin is blue and has weird purple markings all over his face I don't know what to make of this.

"W-what?" I ask.

"Up." He grabs me and pulls me to my feet.

I stand there dumbfounded. Some guy I never met just throws me onto my feet. Who does this guy think he is? I think to myself.

"And you are?" I ask.

"Let's go."

"Hello? what about my question?"

"Talk later, now move!" He smacks my back.

I can't believe this is happening. He slaps my back again. I walk to the way he was smacking me. it seems I'm a prisoner of some kind.

"So are you a Guard?" I ask.

"Shut up. Speak when spoken to." He replies angrily.

Geez. I think. This guy is having no talking at all. I Don't even know who this is and yet, I find the nickname of 'Colonel' comes to mind.

He pushes me up stairs and through halls in this old stone building. It almost reminds me of the castles in Scotland. big Grey bricks holding this building together. I feel another smack into my back.

"You know, talking is easier." I say.

"Almost there. Move."

Damn man, this guy is iron. I think. I make my way up this stairwell that twists up for what seems like forever. We soon come to a big dark wooden doubled doorway. The hinges are made from brass. that's not common anymore, as copper and other metals are much easier to work with.

"Wait for Lord Death over here." He walks to a spot and points to a pillow on the floor. The room it mostly red, with Dark furniture, pillows and some gold accenting about it all. It really pulls the room together in my view.

I walk up to the pillow the Colonel points at and wait. He stares at me as if I have done something wrong. He waits.

"What is with you?" I ask.

"You kneel before Lord Death." He sighs.

I get to kneeling. It seems I am no longer in my hometown or anywhere I've heard of. Where am I and who is this Death guy? This has got to be a bad joke. I think.

The Colonel walks away. I stay in the room on my knees. My legs go tingly as they fall asleep. I wait. Time seems to lag on forever right now.

I can hear doors open and close. People walk by me as if I don't even exist. It feels like hours have gone by. I don't know what to do.

I sigh and get ready for the hell of standing up again. This black tall hooded figure slowly wafts around the head of the room into the gold and red throne. I stare for a moment. The hooded figure lifts its arms to its head. The sleeves roll down a bit revealing a golden colored skeleton pulling on the fabric. The hood lifts.

"I am Death." It speaks in a low toned growl. My skin crawls.

I look to the face of this thing. It's a golden skull with two black diamonds for eyes. It's teeth are opals, shining of rainbow colors.

"I'm Steve." I say.

"I know." It snarls at me.

"Why am I here?"

"Your in the family business." it's tone runs through my body like nails on a chalkboard. The eerie growl in its voice always being there. The sound of something that's angry and hungry.

"What's that?" I ask.

"You boy, are a Grim Reaper." It hisses.

"You mean the fairytale we are told? the harbingers of death? the army of death?" I begin to laugh. "Okay, ya'll almost had me. Very funny. Where is mom hiding?" I look around.

"I assure you I am no fairytale, Boy." The room shakes the dust off with the volume of his low tone. It isn't like it's yelling but it's low growl shakes the room.

"So, where is my dad then?" I ask.

"Scythe!" It calls.

Out from behind the throne leans an olive skinned man, dark hair, dark eyes. He leans against the throne. He smirks as he looks at me.

"Your Grandfather just retired. Your the next Reaper." He says.

"that's you? you don't look like the photos mom has." I say.

It's true, dad had blonde hair and green eyes. Not to mention he was very, very pale. Is he really my father? I wonder.