Between Worlds

It all began on an unremarkable Tuesday, under a sky that was half gray with the threat of rain. Micah was sitting on a bench in the city park, the kind of place where people walked their dogs or pushed strollers. The sort of place where life went on in all its mundane glory. Except that Micah had never felt more disconnected from it.

It had been six months since the accident, six months of waking up with that dull ache in the chest, a reminder that life went on, even when you weren’t sure you wanted it to.

Then *he* sat down beside Micah. Not that anyone else noticed. He wasn’t exactly invisible—more like, people simply didn’t want to notice him. Dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, the figure had an aura that felt like twilight, the fading edge of something final.

“Mind if I sit?” the stranger asked, though he was already sitting.

Micah glanced sideways, brow furrowing. There was something unsettlingly familiar about the stranger’s face, but it wasn’t a face Micah had ever seen before. A voice echoed in his mind, as if he had been waiting for this moment, or perhaps dreading it.

“I suppose,” Micah muttered, staring straight ahead. “Not many people bother asking these days.”

The stranger chuckled, a low, almost soothing sound. “People tend not to when you’re used to being... overlooked.”

Micah turned, looking at the man more carefully now. His skin was pale, almost luminescent, with silver hair that shimmered like a storm cloud. His eyes, though—they were unsettlingly dark, pools of endless night.

It hit Micah like a punch to the gut. “You’re him, aren’t you?”

“Depends,” the stranger said, smiling. “Who do you think I am?”

Micah’s breath hitched. “The Grim Reaper.”

The man tilted his head, seeming amused. “One of many titles. I prefer Thaniel. But Grim works too, I suppose.”

Micah wasn’t sure how to respond. Six months ago, he might’ve laughed at the idea of meeting Death. Now, though, after standing so close to the edge, it felt like less of a joke and more like fate.

“So, what? You’re here for me?” Micah asked, more bitter than afraid. “Finally decide it’s my time?”

Thaniel gave a soft shake of his head. “If I was here for you, you’d already know. You’d have seen the door by now.”

Micah swallowed, not sure what he meant by “the door,” but not eager to ask.

“Then why are you here?” Micah pressed.

The Reaper’s expression softened. “I’m here because you saw me.” Thaniel paused, his dark eyes glinting like distant stars. “And once you see me, things change.”

Micah frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You will.” Thaniel rose from the bench, and the world seemed to ripple around him, the air growing colder. He gestured to the path ahead, where people walked their dogs, pushed their strollers, and hurried about their lives—only something had changed. Shadows flitted just behind them, shapes that weren’t entirely human. Wisps of translucent figures, lingering at the edge of sight.

Micah blinked, heart racing. “What... What is this?”

Thaniel’s voice was calm. “The world of the dead. It’s always been here, but now you can see it.”

Micah’s pulse thundered in his ears as he looked around, eyes darting from one ghostly figure to the next. They were like echoes, half-present, drifting through the world without really belonging.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Micah whispered.

“No one does.” Thaniel’s voice was gentle. “But once you’ve brushed against death, you can’t unsee it. You’re standing on the edge of both worlds now.”

Micah sat in stunned silence, the weight of it all pressing down. The world of the living and the dead—two sides of a coin, forever intertwined. And somehow, Micah had become caught between them.

“Why me?” Micah asked after a long silence, voice barely above a whisper.

Thaniel sat back down beside him, resting his elbows on his knees. “Because you survived. And in surviving, you became aware of something most people never do—the delicate balance between life and death.”

Micah stared at the Reaper, suddenly feeling more alive than they had in months, yet haunted by the sight of these two intertwined realities. “So what now?”

Thaniel’s smile was almost sad. “Now? You learn to live with it. You’re one of the few who can walk between both worlds. And trust me when I say... the dead are just as complicated as the living.”

Micah laughed, a strange, shaky sound that echoed across the park. “Great. More complications.”

Thaniel stood, looking out at the city around them. “The question is, Micah... What will you do with this gift?”

Micah wasn’t sure it felt like a gift. But as the two of them stood there, watching the invisible lives of the dead drift by, Micah knew one thing for certain: life, death—none of it would ever look the same again.

And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.