Dressed as a Grim Reaper

Words by: Alunsina

There’s this day when the boundary between the dead and the living blurs. Other people would anticipate youngsters in costumes on their front door, yet all I wished for was a knock on our home and to see the lost souls of dearest loved ones. Maybe the thinnest line between the two realms would make me near them once more. Feel them once more. However, it seems like mischief was blessed upon me as I see death at our doorstep.

Shivers ran through my spine, and the cold trickles of sweat would tell me that the reaper had passed me by. Most nights, I wonder why he came unexpectedly like an unwanted visitor. I wished he would speak and say, "Sorry, wrong house!". Yet, he never uttered such words.

I tried to offer a basket full of treats for him to go away. Would these chocolates and candies suffice? Can the taste of sweetness make him leave our threshold and throw away the bitterness I'm feeling?

But he came back.

Should I have given him seeds instead? If he learned how to plant a life, would it help him quit his daily job of harvesting precious souls? Or would the flickering lights tell me? Would the passing wind whisper in my ears that death is nearing?

Yes, he's still here.

Then, I tried dressing up as the grim reaper. Thinking that I may understand the reaper himself, or I could, for once, take his role from him.

If only, like the grim reaper, I could see a person's lifetime, then maybe the flowers I bought would be for birthdays and not laid upon a grave.

If only, like the grim reaper, I could see how a soul was fading, then I should have gone to church to solemnly pray rather than give a eulogy speech to the house of God.

If only, like the grim reaper, I knew the last day of a person in this living world, then candles should have been placed on top of a cake and not beside a tombstone.

If only, like the grim reaper, I could ferry the souls to the other side, then I wouldn't be drowning with this painful feeling engraved deep within my bones.

If only I were a grim reaper, then regrets and guilt should have burned through my flaming scythe and died with me.