Though I may look human, I am the Grim Reaper.

Before anyone asks, no, I don’t have a cloak, I wear modern clothes; can’t really go to the mall in medieval attire-also those things are very itchy. No, I don’t have a skull for a face or a black void where it should be. No, I don’t carry a scythe. Honestly, I don’t know where that even came from. I do have two forms, but I choose the mortal one; simply because it’s easier to watch the contracts.

Here is another fact, the big man upstairs doesn’t have a say in who gets to die and who doesn’t. Unless it truly calls for it, he will not intervene. Contracts come in every day to me—files on the mortals; it lists off their fears, likes, beliefs. It’s like a very detailed profile for a dating website, that is if the maker of the website were to choose who dies and who lives.

Anyway, the previous Reapers would stick to the files; read them in detail and stamp the file with a death date. I find that very boring, I like to watch the contracts, see personally how they act. It’s rather entertaining.

It’s not an easy job, even for me, I will admit I’ve made some bad calls. Missed a few psychos, though the mortals gained some great TV shows from them.

I’m one Reaper, there are now billions of mortals; it is far too much pressure. Of course, it still didn’t stop the big man from ripping my head off. Quite literally, luckily for me it grew back.

I can be killed. It is possible but very difficult.

I stretch, my back popping as I stand from my office chair and make my way over to my kitchen to pour some coffee. Even Death needs caffeine. I had been scanning files for hours, going over the batch of contracts for today to see if there were any worth looking into.

As I blew on the steaming cup and shuffle back, careful to not spill any, I end up jumping out of my skin as someone sat in my chair; looking through the very files I was reading.

“Dammit Kyle!” I hiss as I recognize the man, setting my cup down and wiping hot coffee off my white shirt—mentally cursing at the stains that will be difficult to remove. I glare at the red head who adjusts his glasses and frowns at my work; then proceeds to pick up my death stamp and put a date on a file. “What the hell are you doing here?” I stomp over and snatch the file out of his hand. “,and what are you doing?”

“Your request for help has been answered, I am here to help.” He blinks at me as if he couldn’t understand my line of questioning.

I shake my head as I stare at the file he stamped. “Yeah that’s fine but that doesn’t mean you can mess up my work. This is a twelve year old girl,” I shake the file at him “,you have her dying in a year!”

“She has stage two leukemia and it has not been discovered. A year is being generous.” His voice is cold, lack of sympathy and compassion for the mortals.

“There are treatments for these things now Kyle, there are more factors in this job then just reading a file and setting a date. Think of the family, the impact she may have on Earth.”

Kyle scans another file “I did, by the time they discover the cancer, it will be stage four, treatment will be provided but by then her body will be too fragile to survive it. I do not wish to see her suffer or her family. The impact of her death will be minimal.” He stamps another date on a file I hadn’t read yet and I snatch it from him.

“Stop that!”

“Your attachment to this realm has become problematic Andrew,” Kyle stands, his hands folding behind his back. “,you’ve made far too many mistakes, mortals are living longer than they should and the population has overgrown.” His eyes trail over the thousands of files filling the office desk and overflowing from the file cabinet. An urge to jump in front of those files to block them from his sight grew strong.

The man flicks his tongue over his teeth and shakes his head in disappointment. “Looks like we need another pandemic.”