Chapter 8: Endless Horizon

Morrigan walked alongside Death as they made their way out of the park and back into town. She observed other pedestrians, taking note of how none seemed particularly interested in the walking skeleton. Yet, she knew they could see him, as any time they passed someone on the sidewalk, they moved further to the side to get out of his way. Looking over her shoulder, the most reaction she noticed from anyone was a shiver as if they were hit by a cold breeze.

"So… can people not see you?" Morrigan asked.

"They can, and they can't," Death explained. "This is a technique I can teach you, but it is not essential as long as you still have your flesh."

"Still… have my flesh?" Morrigan asked.

"I discarded the last of mine ten thousand years ago. As a reaper, you are now immortal. You can not die unless you wish it so. However, your vessel is still a flesh and blood body and while it will not age or deteriorate naturally, any damage it sustains can not be healed easily."

"Great… so I'm basically a zombie…" Morrigan said under her breath.

Death's teeth parted as a chuckling sound came from somewhere behind the clinking of his jaw. "Ah, Morrigan, you do have a lovely sense of humor."

She gave him a sideways glance, not sure if he was mocking her or if it was a genuine compliment. "I was being serious."

"I know," he replied. "Yet, your sarcastic tone speaks to humor. Humor has a way of making even the darkest of situations a tad brighter. Don't you think?"

"How old are you anyway?"

His skeletal hand rose to his jaw as he turned his head in thought. "Not older than the first human, I'm sure, as I suspect I once was one."

"Suspect? You don't know?"

"I suppose at a certain point, memories begin to fail you. Think of it this way: irrelevant details of any given day can be recalled on the next day, and the day after that, but as time moves on, you become less sure. However, there are some memories that never leave you, no matter how much time passes."

"Like what?" Morrigan pressed, curiosity getting the better of her.

Death was silent for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. "Those profound moments that change you—falling in love, experiencing loss. The first time I reaped a soul, I felt the weight of the responsibility, the raw emotion of it. I still recall it deep in my bones." His jaw cracked slightly ajar, and she realized he was trying to make a joke. She grinned, even though she did not find it funny.

"I remember quite clearly... the first time I took a young life, a child robbed of his chance to ever truly live. Then, there are the times souls resist or try to bargain. Not all of your clients will accept when it is their time, Morrigan, and it is a terribly hard thing to do what must be done."

"You can try to help them, though. Right? I mean… with Momo the cat… I really wanted to help him."

"I know you did," said Death. "However, not everyone gets to finish all their earthly business before passing on. Feeling complete satisfaction with the life one lived at the moment of their death is a rare luxury."

With a heavy sigh, she asked, "Why did you choose me to be a reaper? What made you think I could handle this?"

Death turned his gaze to her, the voids in his skull regarding her thoughtfully. "I don't know…" he eventually said. "Perhaps it was a whim."

"A whim? Are you kidding me?"

"Your situation was quite sad… and rare, mind you. You did not deserve hell, yet your soul was tainted, so heaven would not accept you. I would have had to send you to limbo, where nothing would remain of you. You lived a challenging life, yet persevered, and then had it cut short with a death not planned by the fates. I felt… quite wrong about sentencing you to limbo. This was the best alternative."

Lived a challenging life, yet persevered…

"How do you know so much about me?"

"When you've lived as long as I have, there are many subtle things you start to notice, even in a corpse." A skeletal finger poked out of its robe to point at her. "The clothes you wore were a generic brand, yet altered to appear expensive, and furthermore, they were old. You repurposed old scraps to create something new… but it was not for the sake of newness, it was for the sake of maintaining an illusion."

She shot him a look through the corner of her eye. He just unraveled way too much about her that nobody knew.

"And that is just what I understood from your clothes. I can also tell you how I knew of your petty theft, if you like, and I suspect you had fraudulent credit cards. Is this correct?"

"Come on, you're messing with me!" she said. "You have some, like, magic grim reaper clairvoyance power or something, right?"

Death chuckled. "No, no, I'm afraid not. Oh, how nice that would be, though."

"Whatever, just cut it out… it's a little too freaky."

"There is one more thing I knew of you, Morrigan. I could see how, despite your struggles, and whatever questionable behaviors you may have had… you were the type to not think twice about helping someone in need."

Morrigan's eyes lowered and she touched the center of her chest, where she had been stabbed. "Yeah, a lot of good that did me…"

"I understand the regret that comes with sacrifice. Yet, your choice to help someone was noble. It was an act of a pure heart, free from any hidden motives or expectations of reward."

"It's what got me killed," she whispered, her voice laced with bitterness.

"Indeed, it was," Death replied. "Existence is really nothing more than a series of actions and reactions. You helped someone in need, you died, and then you accepted my contract. Now, you are a reaper."

She may have said more, but Death pointed forward, his baggy sleeve sliding down his arm. "We're here."

Morrigan did not realize until just then that Death had been leading her back the way she had come earlier today. Now, he was pointing at a familiar house, the one Momo had led her to earlier today.

"This is…"

"You've already met the old woman inside, haven't you? Well, she just so happens to be on my list. Now then, shall we?"

Death continued forward without waiting, and Morrigan followed tentatively behind.

"So… how does this work exactly?" Morrigan asked. "You know, we knock on the door, and then what? Bum rush an old lady and reap her soul?"

"Aaaah, Morrigan, there's that sarcasm again," he reached into his sleeve and pulled something out. "I have a key, of course."

"A key?"

It wasn't like any key she had ever seen before. It looked like it was made of bone, and as she observed she realized the grooves along the shaft were constantly shifting. Looking closer, the round end that Death held was in the shape of a skull.

"This is called a skeleton key. It is a magical tool used by us reapers, and it can open any door in the entire world." He stepped onto the stoop and inserted the key into the doorknob. At first it looked too bulky, but its shape morphed as it descended into the tiny hole and slid in smoothly.

"Isn't that breaking and entering?"

"We are not breaking anything. Besides, death never asks for permission, my dear." He opened the door and stepped in. "Well, are you coming or not?"

Morrigan looked over her shoulder. The sun was beginning to set and painting the town in orange. Cars and pedestrians occupied the streets, probably all heading back to their homes for the night.

"Hurry, Morrigan," Death said, his tone a little more demanding.

She stepped inside and shut the door softly behind herself. Death held the key out to her. "Here, you can have this one. Just be careful with it. It must never leave your possession or fall into the hands of mortals. Do you understand?"

Morrigan stared at the key for a moment, then gingerly reached out, taking it. It was cool to the touch, and she could feel a slight vibration emanating from it, as if it contained its own life force.

"I understand," she whispered.

"Good. Now, let's proceed."

The interior of the house was dim, only a few candles lighting the living room. The old woman sat in a rocking chair, her face pale but her eyes sharp and focused. She looked up as the two entered with a mixture of surprise and recognition.

"Oh, it's you," she said. At first, Morrigan thought the old woman was talking to her, but then realized she was looking past her, at Death.

He walked over and kneeled beside her chair, his bony hands folded over his knee. "Yes, Mrs. Meyers," he said. "I've returned. Tonight is the night."

Her eyes lowered away from him. "Tonight… No… Do you think… do you think you could wait just a little longer?"

Death tilted his head, looking deeply into her eyes. "Why do you wish for more time?"

She hesitated for a moment. "It's my granddaughter's wedding in three days. I wanted to see her walk down the aisle, to be there for that special moment in her life."

"Life is full of precious moments," Death said to her. "Some grand, and some mundane. When you are gone, those moments will continue without you. I'm sorry, Mrs. Meyers, but you've lived your life, and your time has come."

Mrs. Meyers' gaze was unwavering, though her voice dipped with emotion. "I know. I've lived a long life, but this... this one moment... It would mean the world to me, to see my granddaughter in her white dress, surrounded by loved ones."

Morrigan stepped forward. "Isn't there anything we can do? Just a few more days?"

"Mrs. Meyers," Death continued, ignoring Morrigan. "Remember the last time I came, you asked me to wait until the beginning of spring, because you wanted to see the flowers bloom one last time. You agreed that the next time I came, you would take my hand." He reached his skeletal hand forward, palm raised to the sky. "It is time to uphold that promise."

Mrs. Meyers looked down at the proffered hand, a deep sigh escaping her. "I remember. But, hope springs eternal, does it not? Every time I think I'm ready, another precious moment appears on the horizon."

Death paused, his ever-enigmatic expression unchanging. "Life is precious because we die. If every time a special moment appeared on the horizon, and we waited, the horizon would stretch on forever, and the meaning of those moments would fade."

Morrigan, her voice pleading, added, "But it's just a few more days. Can't you help her? I'm sure her granddaughter wants her there as well. Isn't life about cherishing those moments?"

Death looked at Morrigan, his hollow eyes seeming to pierce her very soul. "But it is the transience of life, its inevitable end, that gives everything meaning. If life were eternal, nothing would be cherished."

Mrs. Meyers chuckled weakly. "It's strange to hear Death speak so philosophically about life."

"That is because life and death are deeply intertwined," Death responded gently.

There was silence, save for the soft ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It seemed to mark the fleeting seconds.

Finally, Mrs. Meyers spoke, her voice firm. "I understand. I may not be ready, but I accept my time has come."

She extended her hand to Death, but paused, taking one final moment to turn towards Morrigan. "Young lady, did your friend ever find his family?"

Morrigan felt the tug at her heart once again, and she shook her head. "No… he didnt…"

"Oh… I'm very sorry to hear that, dear," said the old woman. "You've cried a lot today, haven't you?"

Morrigan blinked back tears, touched by the old woman's empathy even in her last moments. "Yes, Mrs. Meyers. It's been a… challenging day, to say the least."

Mrs. Meyers smiled kindly, her aged face creased with lines of wisdom. "It seems you have a hard road ahead of you, dear. It's such a shame. But, there will come times when everything is okay. When those moments find you, please don't forget to smile. After all, you have such a pretty face."

***

That night, after coming home to an empty house, Morrigan used the computer to search the local ads for kitten adoptions. She found a group of two-month-old kittens, some orange, some grey, and some a mix of both colors. She did not know if they were Momo's kittens, but wanted to believe that was the case. She hoped wherever Momo was, he was at peace, and she wished the same for Mrs. Meyers as well.