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apparitionsxanonymous · 28 days

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Group Six

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

“Why give us drinks if we can’t taste them anymore?”

The group session had barely begun, and I was already being bombarded by questions. I had chosen the three latest spirits I met with for individual sessions. They all had one thing in common: they were confused about the Afterlife and what to do next.

“It’s more for comfort,” I explained about the drink. “Your senses may still be around a touch. Also, the soul has a way of remembering some sense from its time in a living form.”

“So, I could taste this if I wanted to?” the young man asked.

I nodded. “It’s why you can physically touch the cup and pick it up, too.”

The three grinned at one another before drinking. It was as though I had given them each a new power, and they were about to embark on some important mission. I cracked a smile at their sudden eagerness.

“Would anyone like to share anything?” I asked.

“About what?” one lady asked.

I shrugged. “About anything you’d like.”

“Oh,” the other woman shot her arm in the air. “I went back to school.”

“Back to school?” the man repeated, turning his attention to me.

“There’s a school here?”

I shook my head, but before I could reply, the woman answered.

“No, I went back to the Living World. I wanted to go back to school before I died. After talking to Grim here, I decided I could still go back and sit in on the classes. No one knows I’m there.”

“But you won’t get a degree,” he replied, still baffled.

“No,” she said, frowning, “I can’t use a degree here, anyway. But I enjoy the knowledge. I can take random classes, whenever I want, free of charge and don’t have to worry about homework.”

The man leaned back in his seat, whistling. “I never thought to do that.” He sat forward again, looking at me. “You told me to make amends in death.”

“I did,” I nodded, “but I meant for you to look at your time in the Living World and use that knowledge to decide what to do in the Spirit World. Ultimately, it’s up to you to decide what to do.”

He sat back again, humming to himself. Deep in thought, he didn’t respond.

“I’ve been back to the Living World, too,” the other woman piped up.

The man stiffened. “Am I the only one who hasn’t been back there?”

“Apparently,” she shrugged. “Anyway, I returned to help the doctors and scientists with my body. I had a rare disease they were trying to cure. I think my purpose was to help cure that disease.”

“Wait,” the man held up a hand, looking at me again. “I asked you my purpose, and you said I needed to figure it out myself.”

“I didn’t say they told me my purpose,” the lady replied, pointing to me but looking at the other spirit. “I figured it out through our conversation. Even then, I’m still unsure I’m doing the right thing.”

“But it feels right in the moment, so you’re going with it,” the other woman added.

“Exactly.”

The man pinched the bridge of his nose. “So… I had a purpose in life, didn’t know what it was, and now I’m dead. But I have to find my purpose in death, too? What’s the time frame on that?”

I tried to hide a smirk. Not that I was making fun of this spirit, but the way their minds worked fascinated me.

“You have all the time to figure out your purpose here,” the woman replied. "We’re dead. I mean… I assume there’s no more internal clock?” She turned to face me, her confusion written on her face.

I leaned forward, folding my hands on the table. “May I interject?”

“Yes,” the three spirits replied in unison.

“You lived your lives. What you did or didn’t do doesn’t matter anymore. However, you still have those memories. You remember how they made you feel—good or bad. When I explained that you should take what you learned in the Living World and make amends in the Spirit World, I meant to keep doing what you’re doing. Keep doing what you feel is right. Listen to your gut, even though you no longer have one.”

“What sort of choices do we have to make here?” the man questioned.

I shrugged. “I can’t answer that for you. Some spirits return to the Living World to be with their loved ones. Others,” I nodded my head to one lady, “go back to the Living World to continue their life as they wanted.” I looked at the other lady. “And others go back to help others in the Living World.” I turned my attention to the gentleman. “Finally, some remain in the Spirit World, taking their time going back to the Living World or never going back at all. There’s no right or wrong answer. It’s all what you feel is best.”

“I don’t know what I feel is best, though,” the man sighed. “I’m not sure I feel anything anymore. My whole life has been a lie, and it ended prematurely. I had no purpose in life - not that I know of - and now I have no idea what to do.”

“You must have had a purpose in life, or else you wouldn’t have been born,” one woman replied.

The other lady interjected. “The point is, you’re here now. It’s time to make the most of it.”

I watched the trio converse as one would watch a tennis match. This meeting didn’t go as I thought it would, but the conversation wasn’t going in a sour direction. The two ladies knew what they wanted. They did what they felt was right. To them, if it were wrong, they could fix it. Since they were dead, it was like they had all the time in the world.

The gentleman was uneasy. Confusion still clouded his judgment. The ladies were determined to go with the flow and find their peace, while the man focused on getting it right the first time.

Yet, the clock turned orange.

The man stood from his seat, smiling at the ladies. “You know, I think I need to take a page out of your books. I don’t know why I died when I did. I don’t know if I accomplished my life’s purpose. If I did, it wasn’t on purpose. But I’m here now and must make the most of it.”

“Good for you!” one woman cheered.

“So, what are you doing to do now?” the other asked.

It was like I wasn’t in the room anymore.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Maybe explore this place a little more before exploring what the Living World now offers.”

One lady clicked her tongue. “Don’t stop living because you’re dead.”

The three of them chuckled as the clock turned red. I grinned, satisfied something I said stuck. They helped each other through this moment.

Will I see them again for another session? It’s hard to say. For now, I think they know what they’re doing.

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

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apparitionsxanonymous · 1 month

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Living (Part Two)

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

“The soul isn’t killed. It keeps living. It has nowhere else to go, so it comes to the Afterlife,” I explained. “People in the Living World believe that the body and soul are one and the same when, in reality, they’re very different from one another. The body cannot live without the soul, but the soul continues living without the body. It can’t remain doing all the same things it was doing before because the soul has no sense of taste, touch, or smell. A soul can’t go to work, go to school, drive a car, pay the bills, or anything. Because it can’t do those things anymore, it can’t do the basic things to live, so to speak, and the soul cannot be seen by a living person. It’s assumed to be dead.”

She paused for a moment, taking in my words. After a beat, she chuckled. “Wow, so we really had the whole life and death thing wrong, huh?”

I nodded. “One person comes up with a theory, writes a book about it, and then many people follow that theory. But that’s not a bad thing. Believing in something is good. It doesn’t matter if it’s right or wrong. If you believe in something, it gives you cause to keep pressing forward. It encourages you to always do the right thing, even though your version of the right thing will be the wrong thing to someone else.”

She began laughing. “I think that’s probably the one thing we get as living beings. Everything in life is complicated.”

I nodded. That was an understatement. I couldn’t begin to explain how complicated the Living World made living.

“So being dead is still being alive but without the stress?” she questioned, slightly changing the subject.

“Yes,” I answered. There was no stress here because there were no man-made objects, such as time or currency. Spirits didn’t need to worry about their health because we weren’t eating chemicals or breathing in air pollution. Not to mention, we didn’t need to worry about natural disasters. The weather didn’t reach us here, so there would be no flooding or fires.

The Afterlife was meant for souls to find peace and continue living based on what they wanted to remember from their previous lives. It was a hard concept to grasp for most spirits, though.

“Is there a Beforelife?” she asked.

I stared at her quizzically.

“You know,” she clarified, “like the Afterlife but before we’re born. If there is, I don’t remember it.”

I grinned. “Our spirits can only remember so much. Once one life ends, another soon begins.”

She tilted her head to the side, staring at me intensely. “You mean to say there is a Beforelife?”

I shrugged. “I’m not at liberty to say.”

She nodded, though I could tell she wasn’t satisfied with my answer. She sipped her tea and looked out the window to hide her annoyance. But then, after a brief minute, she looked at me again.

“What is the purpose of all this?” she asked.

I suppressed a sigh. I knew this question was coming at one point or another. “Purpose of the Living World or the Spirit World?”

“All of it.”

“That’s something you need to determine on your own.”

She hummed to herself. “I died before I reached my 40s. So, I’m not entirely sure what the point of my life was. Did I accomplish what I was supposed to, and that’s why I died? Or did I get sick to help someone else, and my death was my purpose?”

“Do explain,” I prompted.

“My illness was a distinct form of some rare disease. Because of me, they can use my body and organs to run tests and figure it out. They might even find a cure for it with the help of the science from my body - er, physical form.”

I nodded, listening. It was certainly interesting to hear a spirit believe their purpose in life was to die. I didn’t know what her purpose was because I wasn’t aware of the things she did when she was alive. She spoke so sincerely about it, though, that I felt she was on the right track.

I looked over my shoulder and noticed the clock had turned orange. Our session was almost over.

“So, if my purpose in life was to die, and now I’m still living, that means I need to find a new purpose, right?” she continued.

“Otherwise, why would we continue living as spirits? Maybe I can go back to the Living World and help the scientists in a way. Put ideas in their heads. If I have any ideas, that is.”

I smiled, pleased to know she was making a plan for herself. Most spirits weren’t ready to jump back into the Living World just yet. At least, not unless they visited the loved ones they had left behind. She wasn’t thinking about her family or friends. She was only thinking about how her getting a disease would help others with that same disease.

At that moment, the clock turned red. I stood from the table and explained that our time was up. She looked at the clock, nodding in understanding.

She, too, stood, smiling at me. “I appreciate you taking the time to listen to me and help me figure out what I need to do next.”

“Of course, that’s what I’m here for,” I replied, grinning. “I’m always here, so if there’s anything else you need to talk about, you can always come back whenever you want to.”

With little else, she thanked me again and then exited the room. I sat back down at the table, staring at the blue rose as the centerpiece.

I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that a spirit understood that finding their purpose didn’t end with their physical form. She’d find her purpose and complete it, then unknowingly return to the Living World for a new purpose.

The truth was that the Beforelife, as she called it, and the Afterlife were one and the same.

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

#creative writing #paranormal fiction #short story #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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apparitionsxanonymous · 1 month

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Living (Part One)

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

It had been a long day for me. I saw so many newly departed souls, and just about every one of them was upset. I didn’t blame them for being shaken about being dead. But, according to the Living World, dying was simply part of “the circle of life.”

Death was expected to happen to everyone, and they all knew it could strike at any moment. Anyone who was still alive knew not to take life for granted, but that was always easier said than done.

Somewhere along the lines, living people grew selfish. They had tunnel vision about the things they wanted and went for them—or they didn’t go for them at all.

I wasn’t here to judge who did a good job living and who didn’t because who can say one life was better than another? Every life is unique.

Besides, even if I could judge and some lives were better than others, what good would that judgment do now? People were supposed to find peace in death, not mull over what they did or didn’t do when they were alive.

That was the toughest part, though. Many people who arrived here were so concerned about their previous lives. Someone they left behind, something they didn’t get to do. The list goes on.

It was my job to change their thinking. Fate had spoken, and while we didn’t know why they had to die when they did, there was no going back. I had to help them see the good in it as best they could and continue on.

Now the soul sitting across from me at the table sipping her tea gingerly, she had entered the room, acting as though we had been good friends for a long time.

She was young, and if you asked any living being in the Living World, she was much too young to die. There were no age rules Death needed to follow, but people in their physical forms didn’t understand that.

Regardless, she didn’t seem upset in the slightest that she was here. In fact, she seemed already at peace. So, I wondered what she was doing in this room with me.

Although, I shouldn’t complain. She wasn’t depressed or angry with me for killing her, so I took what I could get.

“What type of tea is this?” she asked, breaking the silence after so long.

“It’s regular tea,” I replied. “I don’t go fancy with it since your taste buds are fading. You wouldn’t be able to taste any of the flavors unless it was stronger.”

She smiled sweetly. “Well, it tastes delicious anyway.”

I tilted my head in confusion. Was she trying to butter me up for something? Maybe she wasn’t at peace, and she was gearing up to plead with me to go back to the Living World. Had I read her wrong?

“So, this is what the Afterlife is like, huh?” she asked, her gaze dancing around the empty room. “This isn’t exactly what I pictured.”

“It isn’t what anyone pictures, honestly,” I stated. “What did you think it would be like?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I ever really thought about it before. My parents were religious. They’d tell me all about what it would be like when we died. I needed to be on my best behavior if I wanted to have a good afterlife. When I was a child, I believed them. As I got older, I thought that sounded a little far-fetched. And now that I’m here… well, I realize they were wrong,” she explained. She landed her stare on me, chuckling at the last bit. “I don’t know what my mother will think when she arrives here.”

I smirked. “Your parents aren’t the only ones who think that. Everyone has a different interpretation about what they believe the Afterlife is like.”

“I didn’t think it would be anything. I thought I’d cease to exist,” she said. “You can believe my shock when I died, and you showed up.”

I nodded, though she wasn’t shocked at all. When I went to her body to bring her here, her soul stood over her physical form, watching it sleep. She seemed fascinated more than anything else but also a little relieved, too.

Many people were afraid of death because they thought they would cease to exist. It made their time running out seem more dire. So, when their soul left their physical form and they came to the realization they’re still here, they seem more accepting of their death.

“You wouldn’t believe how hectic my life had gotten,” she said.

“When I got sick, and I wasn’t able to do anything, I was somewhat relieved. It was a break, in a way. Not a good break, but I had a good excuse for why people couldn’t reach out and ask me to do things for them, you know?” she took another sip of her tea. “When I found out I didn’t have much time left, I was nervous, but I wasn’t scared. Does that make any sense at all?”

I nodded. “You wanted the relief of the end, I get that. There is nothing wrong with wanting to rest when you can no longer do anything productive in your physical form.”

“Physical form?”

“When you were alive.”

“You mean my body.”

“You are your soul. The body, as every living person calls it, is simply a host. It’s the soul’s physical form.”

She furrowed her brows, a glint of amusement in her eyes. “So, then, the body can’t do anything to the soul?”

“No, it’s separate. But obviously, if the physical form can no longer work, the soul needs to leave. It can’t do anything in the Living World without a host.”

“But how can a broken body kill a soul?”

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

#creative writing #paranormal fiction #short story #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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apparitionsxanonymous · 1 month

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Defensive (Part One)

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“You’re dead. This is where the dead go,” I replied bluntly.

The spirit stood by their chair on the other side of the table, looking around the blank room. Their brows furrowed into confusion, thoughtfulness, scheming? I wasn’t quite sure. His arms folded across his chest defensively. I didn’t think he realized I wasn’t there to hurt him. Nothing was here to hurt him.

Actually, he was a spirit. Nothing could hurt him, even if it wanted to. That was the ironic part about being dead. When a person is alive, many things could hurt them physically and emotionally. They’d suffer at the hands of other people, mostly. It was rare they’d get hurt by something else unless it was an illness or a natural disaster. But, in death, the only one who could hurt you was yourself.

Spirits couldn’t physically get hurt, but they could still feel emotionally wounded. It was never at the fault of other spirits, though. It depended on how quickly they found their peace.

“Why am I here?” he demanded, glaring at me.

I pointed to the teacup on the table beside his chair. “Would you like to sit down and have a drink? Then we can chat about it.”

He eyed the drink suspiciously before casting the suspicion my way. However, he didn’t say anything. He pulled out his chair and sat down slowly as though not trying to make any sudden movements.

The soul sat stiffly in his chair with his hands in his lap. He didn’t bother to pick up his drink, let alone drink it.

“Would you prefer something other than tea?” I asked.

“Why am I here?” he demanded again.

“You are dead,” I replied in a gentle tone, though I was on the cusp of sounding annoyed.

“You killed me?”

“No, you died of other circumstances, and I brought you here to help you find peace.”

“How did you know I had died, though, if you weren’t the one who killed me?”

I stared blankly at the spirit, unsure how to answer that one. I was the Grim Reaper; I knew when everyone had died. It was my job to get them and bring them here so they wouldn’t get lost and stuck as spirits in the Living World.

“You killed me,” he answered matter-of-factly for me when I didn’t answer. “You’re the Grim Reaper, right?”

I sighed, finally understanding where this conversation was headed. “Yes, but-”

“Then you were the one who killed me. You ripped me from my life. You stole my soul from my body.”

Stole his soul? That was certainly a new one.

“I don’t do anything like that,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not sure how the rumors started, but what you believed about the Grim Reaper, about me, when you were alive, is simply not true. I do not kill people. I do not wield my scythe as a weapon. I’m here to help, to make sure your soul crosses safely from its physical form to its spirit form.”

“Then why are we in such a dark place?” he questioned, his tone not lightening up at all.

I shrugged. “I didn’t create it.”

“Who did?”

“Fate,” I replied quickly.

To be honest, I wasn’t quite sure myself. But this was the way things worked. If this was how things were supposed to go, then I assumed Fate had a hand in it.

“You really expect me to believe that you’re not Fate?” he asked.

“You were the one who said I was the Grim Reaper, so I think you’re aware I’m not Fate.”

“Fate is Death, and Death is the Grim Reaper.”

Where was the logic in this?

“No,” I said, as calmly as I could muster. “Again, I am the Grim Reaper, but Death is separate. Death strikes when your internal clock runs out. I arrive to help bring you to the Spirit World so that you may find peace in the Afterlife. Fate is entirely different. Fate is… well, I guess Fate is part of the internal clock.”

“Internal clock?” he pressed.

I pointed to the large green clock on the wall. “Every living physical form has that inside of them as soon as they’re born. The clock begins ticking down until you die. There are no numbers on it, no one can see the clock. Everyone has a different amount of time left in their physical form. I don’t know how that time is determined, but it’s what Fate decides upon everyone being born.

“As fate would have it, your clock had finished counting down. So, Death claimed you, and I came to pick you up.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and looked out the window at nothing. His face held a sour expression, and I sipped my coffee. I had said my piece, so the ball was in his court.

His reaction and anger toward me didn’t bother me. I’ve had worse spirits before, blaming me for their death, thinking I had killed them and wanted me to bring them back to the Living World.

However, there was only so much I could do to convince them. They needed to have an open mind, and they didn’t have a choice either way. They were dead. They live here now. There was no going back. Sure, they could return to the Living World as spirits, but they could never live the life they had again.

I glanced at the spirit again. He was still gazing out the window, though his expression had changed from bitterness to sadness. I put my tea down, figuring I should probably say something. Otherwise, that clock on the wall was never going to change color.

“Most people believe Death is a bad thing,” I breathed. “But it’s not. It’s simply part of life.”

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

#creative writing #paranormal fiction #short story #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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apparitionsxanonymous · 1 month

Text

Defensive (Part Two)

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

He slowly turned his head to face me, his expression unchanging from the sorrow filling his eyes. “But Death means that Life ends.”

I shook my head. “Death means a new beginning. Let me ask you, what did you think would happen to you when you died?”

He furrowed his brows, thinking. “Well,” he began, “I have never really thought about it before. I thought it would be similar to before I existed. Nothingness. No vision or any other senses. No memories. Nothing.”

“So, you thought you would simply cease to exist?”

“Yes.”

I looked around the room we were in. Sure enough, it was empty. It looked like nothing. We were surrounded by nothing but a void. In a weird way, he was kind of right about what this place would look like.

“Now let me ask you this. Do you remember where you are?” I asked.

“You told me the Afterlife.”

I nodded. “Say it again.”

“Afterlife?” his confusion showed on his face and in his tone.

“After life,” I intoned. “Dying doesn’t mean you stop living. You’re simply starting a new beginning for yourself. Or, you’re starting a new life. However you want to look at it.”

He scratched the top of his head. “I’m not sure I follow. You mean to say that life doesn’t die with death?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?” I replied, taking another sip.

Watching me, he, too, picked up his tea and drank. His face scrunched in disgust, so I knew he was already losing his senses. He put the tea down, pushing it slightly away from him. I pressed my lips together to keep from smirking.

“If life continues, then what about my family? My friends? My job?” he asked.

“Whoever has passed on is here somewhere. You can find them. Otherwise, you can return to the Living World and be with those you care about. Help them through their time left in their physical forms,” I explained.

“How am I supposed to help them?”

“You’ll need to figure that out before you head back there. Everyone needs help, but the kind of help varies.”

“They won’t know I’m there, though.”

“Some will. It depends on whether they keep an open mind.”

“But my job,” he stated. “How am I supposed to go back to work?”

I chuckled. “The only work that needs to be done here is finding peace. You can do whatever you want here, whether you hang around the Spirit World or go back and forth between here and the Living World.”

“How am I supposed to find peace, though?” he asked.

“I can’t answer that for you. Everyone’s peace is different.”

“How will I know when I’ve found my peace?”

“You’ll just know.”

“But what will happen when I find my peace?”

I shook my head. “I can’t answer that one for you. You’ll have to find out when you find your peace.”

He leaned back in his chair, looking unsatisfied. I understood how confusing it was. It was frustrating for me, too. I had 99.9% of the answers, and I couldn’t share any of them. The spirits needed to figure these things out for themselves. Even though Fate already had its time with these souls, I couldn’t influence them to do one thing over another. If I made suggestions, then the souls would assume that’s what they’re supposed to do.

I am the Grim Reaper, after all. They think I’m in charge.

We were silent for a little while. I sipped my beverage, watching the spirit gaze aimlessly out the window. I could tell the gears were turning in his mind. He had more questions he wanted to ask. There were many things he still didn’t understand, but he wasn’t speaking them out loud.

I wasn’t a mind reader, so I had gotten good at reading spirits’ body language and reading their facial expressions. The problem was, even if I could tell how they were feeling, there was still nothing I could do or say about it unless they brought it up themselves.

And even then, there were many questions I was only allowed to vaguely answer.

“I’m not sure I understand all of this,” he said, finally breaking the silence.

“I don’t expect you to understand everything,” I replied. “At least, not right away.”

“I can’t go back though?”

“To being alive?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

He groaned, leaning back in his seat again. After a brief moment, he sat up again, looking at me. “So, then, what’s my purpose here?”

I shook my head. “I can’t answer that one for you, either. Everyone has a different purpose, and you must find it yourself.”

“But I mean, what’s the purpose of this place?” he questioned.

“To help guide those who are still alive and also help guide those who have passed. You find your peace, and you can be with other spirits and help those in need in the Living World, should you so choose,” I clarified.

His face scrunched up again. “So, I live to figure out my purpose in life and make money and pay bills, only to die and have to help others do the same?”

I pressed my lips together, thinking. When he said that, it didn’t sound appealing at all. There was more to it, though—way more.

“Again,” I said, “these are things you will have to figure out on your own.”

He chuckled in response. “I thought dying was going to be a break from life, but it’s still complicated.”

“Life and Death are complicated subjects,” I said. “If we understood Life, and we understood Death, then there would be no purpose to either.”

“But we would enjoy Life. We’d find peace faster in Death,” he countered.

I smirked. “It’s the journey, not the destination, remember? Enjoy what you’ve earned in Life. And make amends in Death.”

He hesitated, and the clock turned orange. I don’t know what he was thinking, but something I said clicked with me.

I stood to say goodbye to him, and he grinned at me.

“I don’t know if you meant to, but I think you gave me a hint about what I’m supposed to do here,” he said. “I’ll keep your advice in mind.”

I watched him leave, hoping he, like many others, wouldn’t take Death for granted.

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

#creative writing #paranormal fiction #short story #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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apparitionsxanonymous · 1 month

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Sorrow (Part Two)

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

“What happened at work?” I pressed.

She shook her head. “I actually don’t remember. I think there was an explosion?”

There was. The building next door, a chemical plant, had a mishap. It caught her building on fire.

“I was sitting at my desk, filling out some forms for customers or clients or… why can’t I remember what I did for work?”

I took another sip, keeping my mouth shut. She worked for the chemical plant, but she did administrative work for it in the next building. She had nothing to do with the chemicals.

Ironically, that was so she stayed away from the danger zone.

The spirit scratched the top of her head, taking another sip of her tea. She made a face, staring at it, before placing it back down on the surface of the table. I think she assumed I didn’t know how to make tea properly and was trying to be polite about it.

“An explosion occurred,” she continued, trying to remember, “and I was thrown out of my seat from the desk. I don’t think I remember anything after that. Did I go to the hospital?”

I shrugged. But no, she didn’t go to the hospital. When the gas pipe exploded, it caught her building on fire. She wasn’t thrown from her desk at all. She got trapped in her office. She had spent forty minutes trying to find a way out before she finally perished. It was a minute after she had died; the firefighters found her. She wasn’t the only one who lost her life that day.

“I don’t remember going to the hospital,” she concluded. “I remember the last thing I saw was my office. I got sleepy and fell to the floor. It was so hot. A fire?”

I nodded. “If there was an explosion, then it sounds logical there was a fire.”

She cast an empty gaze to the ground. “Who knew I’d go in such a freak accident… if only I didn’t go to work that day. I’d still be alive.”

I knew that wasn’t true. Her clock had run out of time. If she hadn’t gone to work that day, her apartment would have caught fire instead. It was fate. No one could change that. But these spirits and people in the Living World always assumed their choices made a difference. They didn’t. But it made them feel better, so I never corrected them, not even the spirits.

Her bottom lip quivered, and I felt the waterworks turning back on. But, to my surprise, she wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, breathing in and out carefully. She looked at me, her eyes clouded with sorrow.

“There’s no going back, is there?” she asked.

I paused for a moment. Her face was so gloomy, I felt for her. I shook my head somberly. “No, I’m sorry. You’re in the Spirit World now. You can go back to the Living World and wander there to be with your loved ones if you choose. You can do just about anything you want now.”

Her brows furrowed, deep in thought. She looked around the room before settling her gaze back outside the window. There was nothing there though, so I didn’t know what she was trying to find.

“I guess I could go back and visit my family. But they won’t know I’m with them,” she said.

“You can leave subtle hints. It’ll be up to them to keep an open mind and recognize your signs,” I explained.

“That doesn’t sound bad. I’ll admit, I’m curious to go back and see what happened to my work. Do you think they’re reopened by now?”

The fire had happened less than 24 hours ago, according to the Living World. It was burned to a crisp, and the area was still shocked by the accident. This spirit hadn’t even had a funeral yet.

“I’m not sure,” I replied, “but I imagine it’ll take them some time to fix things up and reopen.”

She nodded in agreement, though she had no clue how much time had really passed—which was, in actuality, no time at all. Time was a man-made object by the physical forms in the Living World. The internal clock measured time in various ways, depending on Fate and the situation.

The spirit leaned back in her chair, returning her attention to me. She smiled. “If I can go back and forth between here and my family, that counts for something, right?”

I nodded.

“So, this isn’t all bad. I mean, I can still do mostly what I was doing before, but now I don’t need to worry about paying my bills,” she concluded.

I chuckled. “That’s certainly one way to look at it, yes.”

She sighed, frowning again. “Still, I can’t help but wonder what the purpose of my life was because I didn’t accomplish anything. I was about to go back to school and make a better career for myself. I couldn’t afford the schooling, though, which was why I got a second job… the job that killed me.”

I, too, frowned. Fate worked in mysterious ways. There was no doubt about that.

Then she smirked at me. “But I guess I can still go back to school, huh? I can now go for free and still learn what I wanted to learn.”

I grinned, noticing the clock turning orange. Our time was running out for this session, and I was pleased to see it was because she was thinking outside the box about what she could do now that she was dead.

“I tell spirits all the time,” I said, “you shouldn’t stop living just because you’re dead.”

She laughed. “That’s an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one, but you’re right. I won’t be able to do anything with the knowledge I learn, but I can at least sit in the classroom for free. No one will know I’m there.”

“And no homework,” I added lightly.

She laughed again.

The clock turned red, and we had to say our goodbyes. She asked if she could return sometime, and I told her I’d be there.

I will always be here.

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

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apparitionsxanonymous · 1 month

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Sorrow (Part One)

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

I made the coffee disappear and added a cup of tea instead on the table. The new soul sitting across from me sobbed into her arms uncontrollably. We had been sitting here for some time, and while I tried to coax her to talk to me about her feelings, she didn’t respond. Truth be told, I didn’t think she was aware I still was in the room.

I figured the tea might help more than the coffee that she originally asked for. But again, she wasn’t paying attention to anything, her face buried in the table's surface. Because of her, I was grateful we didn’t have to worry about germs here.

When she had first entered the room for her session, she was quiet and hesitate. Though she wasn’t a sobbing mess. She sat down and answered me when I asked which beverage she wanted.

“I’m a little nervous to be here,” she had said to me.

“Everyone is a little nervous at first,” I had replied. “The Afterlife is not at all what most people assumed it would be.”

“The Afterlife?”

“Yes. You’re dead.”

Oh. Now I see why she began crying and wouldn’t stop. I rubbed my temple, thinking about how to get myself out of this hole I dug.

It wasn’t like me to be the one to make the spirit cry. They were normally upset that they couldn’t go back to be with their family, or they felt as though it was far too early for them to die.

This wasn’t the case. I think I simply scared her.

I reached forward, pushing the teacup closer to her. “Here, have a sip. It’ll help.” I didn’t mention that it would probably taste odd since she was losing her senses. But if she assumed I made horrible tea, that was okay.

“It’s calming tea,” I said, coaxing her. Again, the calming wouldn’t have much effect on her, but maybe it would help psychologically.

She finally lifted her head, her face stained with tears. The spirit barely looked at me. She noticed the teacup first and grasped it with both hands. Pulling herself to sit straighter in her chair, she stared inside the cup briefly.

Then, she finally turned her attention to me. “Is it poison?” she asked through sniffles.

My mouth gaped open. She didn’t ask in a snark tone. She genuinely thought it was poison. “No, of course not,” I replied as calmly as possible.

Her breathing staggered as she sniffled again, taking a sip. She nodded, putting the cup down as though satisfied with the beverage, but it didn’t seem like she had drunk much at all.

“Take a moment to gather your thoughts and feelings. You’re in a safe place here,” I explained gently.

She wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. “A safe place?”

I nodded.

“I thought you said this was the Afterlife?”

“It is.”

She gazed into the supposed poison in a cup. “But I’m here to die.”

I cleared my throat. “Well, you’re here because you’re already dead. The Afterlife is a place where souls go once they leave their physical forms in the Living World.”

The crying finally slowed, and her sniffling began to die down. She took another sip of her tea while shaking her head. “I don’t get it. I don’t know what happened to me.”

I pressed my lips together. Did she remember how she had died? Or did she forget completely? I wasn’t at liberty to say. It was something she needed to remember on her own and come to terms with. It was the only way to help her find peace.

She looked at me again. “Why are you here?”

Why did the souls keep asking me that? “I’m here to help you find your way from the Living World to the Spirit World. I’m here to help you find peace in the Afterlife,” I replied.

“You didn’t bring me here?” she questioned.

“Technically, I did. I helped you find this place.”

“So, you killed me?”

“No, I don’t kill anyone. When people die, I go to them and help them find their way. Otherwise, they can get lost in the Living World as wandering spirits.”

She stared at me as though she didn’t believe me. Then she peered into her teacup again.

I sighed. “I don’t kill people, nor do I cause them to come to the Afterlife prematurely. Everyone has an internal clock that ticks down from the time they’re born to their death. No one knows how much time they have left, and they certainly don’t know how they’re going to die. It’s already decided the moment they take their first breath in their physical form.”

She narrowed her eyes, deep in thought. “And you have nothing to do with that?”

“I have nothing to do with that,” I established.

She turned her gaze out the window, staring at nothing. I still wasn’t sure if she believed me or not, but at least she was calm now. I took a sip of my beverage, drinking in the silence. The clock on the opposite wall to the window still shone green. I had a feeling we were going to be here for a little while.

“Do you know what happened to me?” she asked, still staring outside.

“I don’t,” I replied.

That was, of course, a lie. I knew exactly what had happened to her. But again, if I said anything, if I skewed her memories, then she wouldn’t be able to find peace at all. Or she would, but it wouldn’t be real. She would be here for eternity. She deserved to find peace from the truth.

“I was at work,” she said absentmindedly. “I never thought I would die at work, you know? Although, I guess I never really thought about how I would die at all. I thought I’d get the chance to retire, at the very least.”

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

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apparitionsxanonymous · 1 month

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Group Five (Part Two)

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

“No,” he said nonchalantly. “I used to do that sometimes, too. But it doesn’t mean she did it on purpose. Sometimes you did because you’re in a rush, but also sometimes you just didn’t see the people on the side of the road until the last minute.”

“True, but I will say that I blew by these people on the side of the road a lot,” she nervously chuckled. “I liked to drive fast.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh along with her or stare in disbelief. I also didn’t know if I should jump into the conversation, but the old man straightened in his chair.

“What if someone stole something from the store?” he questioned the young man. “Would you consider that bad?”

“Yes, of course,” he replied.

“But you don’t know why they stole from the store. You didn’t even question what they stole.”

“Why would I need to know that? Stealing is bad.”

“But what if they stole from the grocery store?”

The young man hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “It’s still bad. You can’t steal from others, no matter how badly you need it. There are other ways to get help. You can get on food stamps if you need food that badly or you can ask a family member or friend for aid.”

“But what if they’re alone?” the woman asked.

“Again, there are other ways to get food.”

“What if they were too proud or embarrassed?” the elderly man questioned.

The young man shook his head. “That’s something they’ll need to get over themselves if they want to survive.”

“Wow,” the woman whistled. “You’re saying that you would excuse no one if they did something you didn’t agree with?”

The young man paused for a moment. “Well… I guess I wouldn’t say that. Who am I to judge what’s right and what’s wrong?”

The room fell silent. Then the boy pinched the bridge of his nose, hiding a smirk. “Alright, fine. You got me,” he said.

“Let me ask you one more question,” the elderly man began. “What would you do if you saw someone stealing food in the grocery store?”

“Probably nothing,” he replied with zero hesitation. “It’s not really my problem.”

“But then you’re part of the problem by letting the person get away with stealing,” the woman stated.

The young boy reached forward on the table, grabbing his drink. He took a long sip. It was quite obvious he was now trying to avoid continuing the conversation.

“Alright, I think we’ve unpacked a lot here,” I stepped into the discussion, ending the debate. “What everyone is trying to say here is not to judge someone based on what they did or didn’t do. Especially from when they were alive.”

“Have you spoken to all the souls who did bad things when they were alive? Like murderers and stuff?” the woman asked.

I nodded. “Some of them regret it, and others don’t. Some did it on purpose, and others didn’t. Every spirit’s story is unique from the previous one.”

I looked at the young man, still chugging his drink. “I’m sure there are things in life you did and regret. But then there are things you did that you’ll remember forever, that you’d boast about. And I guarantee if you told us all your experiences, we wouldn’t share the same emotions as you with each story. As I said before, we’re all born innocent, but the people we meet, the events that occur in our lives, and our choices all influence our life’s path. Sometimes you feel like you’re steering, and other times, you’re not.”

The woman raised her hand again, eager to speak. “I think I get what you’re saying. Despite everything we did when we were alive - whether it was considered good or bad - we all have a clean slate when we’re here. But we also remember our lives when we were alive, so we must carry those burdens with us forever.”

I nodded.

“There’s no need to judge other spirits based on what they did when they were alive,” the elderly man said. “They were judged enough while in the Living World. What the spirits need now, what we all need, is peace and acceptance.”

The young man finally withdrew the mug from his lips, placing it back down on the table. He drew in a sharp breath, sitting tall in his seat. “Okay, I see what you guys are saying now. This isn’t heaven or hell because, in the Afterlife, we’re all equal,” he stated, glancing his gaze in my direction.

I nodded, smiling.

The clock turned orange, and I stood. While this group session did not go as I originally thought, it was a delightful conversation, and I was pleased to see that each spirit seemed to get something positive out of it. I closed our discussion, and the souls said their goodbyes to me as they all exited the room together.

As soon as I was alone in the room, I whisked away everyone’s drinks, deep in thought. The truth was, all souls were equal in the Afterlife because they were already equal in the Living World. Humans had a habit of putting themselves and certain groups on pedestals. The notion that supposed good people would have it made in the Afterlife and so-called bad people would be damned for all eternity was utterly ridiculous.

But I wasn’t here to help the living live. I was here to help the dead live.

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

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apparitionsxanonymous · 1 month

Text

Group Five (Part One)

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

“Thank you all for coming,” I said, standing beside the table. My gaze scanned the three souls sitting, drinks before them, staring back at me. “And thank you for agreeing to be part of this group. I called you here together to help you meet other souls and get to know one another while trying to understand your respective deaths.”

I had done group sessions like this before and, for some reason, the introductions never seemed to get any easier. It was the only time I didn’t know what to say.

When these group sessions happened, it was mostly because the souls wanted to come back and talk to me again. I was, of course, more than happy to talk to them, but I also felt as though they needed to learn from one another. These souls didn’t mingle much with the others, and this was a great way to introduce them to each other.

I sat down in my chair, opening the discussion to all. “Whoever would like to start can.”

The room was silent for a moment, and two of the three souls cast stares at each other. The elderly man calmly sipped his tea, his lip curled slightly upward into a smirk. I wasn’t worried about him; in fact, I had invited him because I knew he’d be able to teach the other two something about the Spirit World and accepting Death itself.

I had asked him to come to aid me in a way. So, I knew why he wasn’t starting the conversation. I thought I would have to say something, but then the young woman spoke up.

She pointed to the blue rose in the middle of the table, winking at me. “I see you decided to decorate a bit.”

I chuckled. “Yes, I did. Do you like it?”

“It looks great.”

“Wait,” the young man interjected. “There’s a store here?”

“No,” I replied, shaking my head.

He deflated into his seat.

“Did you need something?” the woman asked, confused.

He shook his head. “Just thought that if this place had a store, then that would mean I was in heaven.”

The woman looked at me. “I thought you said there wasn’t such anything as a good place or a bad place?”

“There isn’t,” I clarified. “What you were raised to believe when you were alive was always speculation. In reality, there is no up or down, good or bad, heaven or hell, or anything in between. There is only the Living World for those who are alive and the Spirit World, or Afterlife, for those who are dead. It doesn’t matter whether you made good or questionable choices while alive. Everyone goes here when they die.”

“Wait,” the young man gasped, “so, there are, like, murderers here?”

“Yes,” I replied honestly. I’ve met them all.

He shuddered, recoiling back into his chair again.

The woman giggled. “That’s pretty cool, actually. I really do wish we had our own bedrooms. I would love to see how a murderer decorates their room.”

“I don’t want to meet a murderer,” the other soul stated.

“Why not?” she asked.

“I don’t want to get on their bad side.”

“They can’t do anything to you now. We’re all dead.”

He shuddered again.

I sighed. This conversation certainly had taken a different turn than I imagined.

“May I say something?” the elderly man piped up.

“Yes, please,” I invited.

The older gentleman looked at the younger gentleman with kind eyes. “I don’t believe we need to be afraid of any soul who is here with us. Whatever they did or didn’t do in their previous life doesn’t reflect on who they are as a spirit.”

The young man arched a brow in confusion. “You mean, when they died, they suddenly learned their lessons?”

“It depends on what lesson you mean.”

“Good from bad?”

“What defines goodness? And how would you define bad?”

“Killing people is bad,” the young woman stated, raising her hand.

The old man nodded his head to her. “Yes, I’m not arguing that but how do you suppose they got to that point in their life?”

She shook her head. “There’s no way to know that for sure unless we talk to them and get to know them.”

“Exactly,” he replied, grinning.

“I don’t know if I want to get to know a murderer,” the young man added.

“Everyone is born with innocence,” I added. “Those souls who did unspeakable things when they were alive did so because of the path they walked. That doesn’t mean it’s right, but, unfortunately, some lives are like that.”

“So, we’re lucky because we didn’t walk down a dark path that caused us to kill people?” our interior decorator friend questioned.

“In a way, yes,” the elderly man replied, “but it’s also about perspective. What you consider good or bad is not considered so to someone else.”

“I think killing another is universally bad,” the younger man responded.

The old man chuckled. “Yes, but let’s forget about killing for a moment. That is a pretty difficult example. Think about anything that you would consider bad. Anything at all, it doesn’t have to be as extreme as murder, but it also doesn’t have to be as small as driving by a pedestrian on the crosswalk.”

The woman snorted. “I used to do that all the time.”

“Do you see what I mean?” the gentleman turned to the young man, pointing to the woman sitting in between them. “Would you consider her bad?”

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

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apparitionsxanonymous · 1 month

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Teachings

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

I sipped my coffee, listening to the soul sitting across the table from me discuss the many things they had done when they were alive. I tried not to play favorites with any spirits who came my way, but these stories were always refreshing.

These spirits were already at peace with their death. They didn’t know where they were. All they knew was that they were dead, and they were here. Whatever they believed in when they were alive no longer mattered. They had the answers now, and they accepted it.

This wasn’t to say they didn’t miss being alive. No one is ever truly ready to die. However, that was why it was so easy and comforting for them to talk about what they did and accomplished in the Living World when they were alive.

It was always comforting for me to hear, as well.

“I wrote a book when I was a teenager,” the man in front of me continued after a sip of his beverage. “I wanted to get it published, but everyone told me I was too young to do so. So, the book went into my nightstand drawer; the bottom one was a junk drawer. I didn’t find it again until years later. I had completely forgotten about it.

“I forgot about writing for a long time. I finished high school, completed college, and got a full-time job that had nothing to do with my degree. But I enjoyed my job all the same. It was what I really wanted to do,” he chuckled. “People told me I was wasting my talents because I had gotten a degree in something else. They told me I had spent all that money for nothing. The way I see it? It wasn’t a waste. I had so much knowledge in my brain. Just because I didn’t actively use it in everyday life didn’t mean I wasn’t allowed to know it, you know?”

I nodded, listening deeply to the man’s words. “I agree. I’ve met many souls who believe they wasted so much time with schooling or any form of education because they didn’t utilize the knowledge. But it’s always good to have that wisdom in your back pocket. You never know when you’re going to need it.”

“Exactly!” the man boasted. “I never viewed learning as a waste of time. Sure, it got expensive in the end, but how cool is it to join a discussion with others about something they assume you know nothing about? That’s the only acceptable time to brag.”

“Brag about teachings?”

“Brag about what you know, not what you’ve accomplished,” he clarified. “Everyone has accomplishments. Many accomplishments. Some big, some small, but we’ve all been there in different ways. But to know something someone else doesn’t and have the ability to teach them something new? That’s worth bragging about. That’s a treasure.”

I grinned, remaining silent. He brought up excellent points, and I didn’t want to interrupt.

“When I retired,” he continued, “I found that book I had written when I was a teenager. I read it and, boy, was it awful! I was glad I never published it because it was quite embarrassing. Then again, I had to remind myself I was 15 when I wrote it. For a 15-year-old, the book wasn’t half bad.

“That book inspired me to write it again. I had forgotten about what a love I had for it. I rewrote that story and wrote a few others, publishing them. I self-published them with the help of my grandchildren. Technology is a wonderful thing, but it was quite the learning curve for me,” he stated.

I snickered at his words. I have seen technology grow and evolve in the Living World. I knew its importance but was so thankful technology hadn’t entered the Spirit World. What a mess of things that would make.

“I self-published that book and also a couple of others. They didn’t do well, but that’s alright. I was doing them for fun. I was already retired. I didn’t want to make riches from them or anything.” He paused, taking a sip of his coffee, before speaking again. “My latest book did really well, though. Do you want to know what it was about?”

“What?” I played along.

“573 Things You Didn’t Know You Needed To Know. I admit, the title is a bit bland and could have used reworking. But people ate it up. I self-published it like my other stories and, for some reason, it was a best-seller! Do you see what I mean about knowledge? People love learning, whether they realize it or not.”

I grinned. “I agree. Most people roll their eyes at the thought of schooling or learning something new unless they’re really into the topic, of course, but once the learning begins, people get sucked into it.”

“Yes, they crave the knowledge,” he agreed. “The book I wrote covered many topics, including life skills. According to many of the reviews I got, most readers had bookmarked pages from the life skills section. They learned how to change a flat tire, how to fix a leaky faucet, and so much more.

“They boasted about how they learned things they didn’t in school or from their parents. I was able to teach them. I made a difference in their lives. So, I decided to write another book with more of my lessons,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He sighed, and I detected a bit of somberness.

“Did you?” I prompted.

He cast a sad smile in my direction. “No. I never finished the book. I died.”

“Oh, I see,” I replied, frowned.

His smile grew. “That’s okay, though. I know why I died.”

“Why?” I egged him on.

I knew why he had died. He was 92-years-old and his body crumbled from under him. His mind was always sharp as a tack, but his body couldn’t handle life anymore. So, he passed away gently in his sleep.

“I had fulfilled my purpose in life.”

“Purpose?”

“I had helped others. People learned from me, and it made a positive difference in their lives. I shared my teachings. I passed along my knowledge. And I did it in a book, no less. No social media or technology required. Well, unless the reader had the ebook version.”

“I see,” I smiled affectionately at the older gentleman. “You shared your knowledge and made a positive difference.”

“But they taught me something, too!” he beamed. “I learned people are willing to learn. Willing to listen. They only need easy access to it because not everyone is so lucky.”

The clock turned orange before I could reply. I stood from the table, still grinning. I enjoyed it when a soul put a genuine smile on my face.

“Unfortunately, our time for this session is nearing an end. It was a pleasure speaking with you, and I’ll always be here if you need to talk again.”

He took one last sip of his drink before standing. “Thank you for listening to my story. I can’t wait to see what’s next for me in this chapter of my life.” He paused and then giggled. “Well, you know what I mean.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean you can’t keep living.”

He threw his head back and bellowed. “Amazing! I have so much to learn here!”

And as the clock turned red, the gentleman exited the room, leaving a smile on both our faces.

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

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apparitionsxanonymous · 2 months

Text

Questions (Part Two)

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

“And we’re not in heaven or hell?” he asked again.

“No,” I sighed.

“But you said you’re the Grim Reaper?”

“Yes.”

“So, you killed me?” he questioned, not in a malicious tone but in a confused one. He really was trying to understand.

“I did not,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s another rumor of the Living World. For some reason, people view me as Death itself, but I am not. I have no control over who lives or who dies. I also have no control over when someone dies. I’m here to help you understand your situation and help you find peace in the Afterlife.”

“Well, that’s nice of you.”

“Thanks.”

More awkward silence.

“But if you’re not Death itself, then who is?”

I opened my mouth to reply but quickly closed it again. I couldn’t say who or what Death was. That was one of the few answers I didn’t have in my back pocket. I turned my attention to the clock on the wall that was still green.

“Everyone has an internal clock that looks just like that one,” I said, pointing to the large, numberless clock. “From the moment a person is born, the clock begins ticking. There are no numbers. The seconds beat in time with the person’s heart.

“When you’re alive, you measure your time by birthdays. You count up, but the clock counts down. The moment you’re born is when the clock begins to tick down by how much time you have left to live your life.”

“How long do we have?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No one knows, and it’s different for everyone. It depends on the hand of cards Fate has dealt to you. At least, that’s what I believe. I don’t think there’s a rhyme or reason to how much time a person has or why one person has a longer lifespan than another person.”

He raised his hand. “So, freak accidents…?”

“Aren’t so freaky,” I answered.

“They’re supposed to happen?”

“Yes. Expected deaths and unexpected deaths are one and the same. Everyone dies the moment they’re supposed to. The moment the clock chooses as soon as the heart comes alive.”

“Wow…” he whistled. He then turned his head to look at the clock on the wall. “So, then the clock is Death.”

I shrugged. “If you want to believe that the clock is a sentient being, then sure.”

“Who created the clock?”

“No one created the clock. It’s in all of us.”

“Like an organ?”

“Uh… sure?” I had never thought about it like that before. “You know, some questions are never meant to be answered.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because if everyone knew everything, then there wouldn’t be much of a point to living, would there?” I replied.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means there would be nothing left to learn. So, there would be no point in living.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “That means we wouldn’t have to go to school. Do you know how much time that would save us when we were alive? We’d be able to begin living our lives so much earlier.”

“Learning isn’t limited to education.”

He tilted his head to the side, silently asking for clarification.

“In the beginning, sure, you learn about math, science, history, language, and many more. But there’s more to life than academics. There are social skills, emotional learning, physical care, mental management, and so much more. Learning isn’t limited to sitting in a classroom and listening to someone lecture, reading books about what other people have learned and are trying to teach you. The best learning is through experiences, both alone and with other people you care about. Learning is about making memories, sharing tribulations, and experiencing the many ups and downs the world offers. If you knew the answer to every question in existence, then there would be no living. There’d be nothing left to experience.”

During my speech, the soul sitting across from me leaned forward on the table, resting on his elbows. He gazed at me, drinking in every word. It seemed as though I had finally gotten his attention. Maybe he was finally understanding.

In most of these sessions with newly departed spirits, I have to help them understand their own death and where to go from here. This guy, though, was so confused - and now fascinated - with the Afterlife that I think he was finally aware of what I was telling him. He comprehended life and death without knowing the true meaning of it all. But it was enough of an answer for him to continue living, even though he was dead. It allowed him to appreciate life and death as one.

He slowly leaned back in his chair, finishing his drink. “I think I get what those people always meant when they said that we needed to live our lives to the fullest. We never knew when our time would come, and we shouldn’t take that for granted. I did my best not to, but it wasn’t always easy.”

“It’s not supposed to be easy,” I replied. “If it were easy-”

“Then there would be no point to living,” he finished my sentence with a grin.

I smiled back at him.

“I have one more question, though, if you don’t mind,” he said.

“Sure,” I said, glancing at the clock. It was still green. I thought for sure we’d be almost done.

“How did you become the Grim Reaper?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“How did you die and get this position?” he clarified.

Well, being the Grim Reaper wasn’t a job position. It was simply who I was. I have never thought about it before. I have been helping souls for as long as I can remember. I don’t remember ever being in the Living World.

The spirit grinned, shaking his head. “Nah, I get it. It’s one of those questions I shouldn’t know the answer to, right?”

I slowly nodded my head. The truth was, I didn’t know the answer.

Normally, that wouldn’t bother me, but how could I not know who I was or where I came from?

How did I get here?

The clock turned red, jolting me out of my thoughts. I didn’t notice it had turned orange.

“It looks like our time is up,” I said, standing. “I’ll always be here if you need to talk some more.”

He stood from the table, still smiling. “I just might take you up on that offer. But honestly, I think I will explore this place a bit first. This is brand new and nothing I ever expected, so I want to take it all in.”

We said our goodbyes, and he left.

The clock went from red to green, and another spirit walked in, leaving me with no time to be alone with my thoughts.

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

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apparitionsxanonymous · 2 months

Text

Questions (Part One)

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

“I don’t think I understand. I’m not in heaven or hell?”

I shook my head. The next spirit arrived mystified about where he was or what he was doing here. No matter what I said to him, nothing sunk into his head.

Apparently, in the Living World, he was raised to believe in heaven and hell. He knew that if he did bad things and made the wrong choices, he would end up down below. If he was a good guy and made the right choices, he would ascend above. Now that he was in a black void - black, of course, being associated with bad things - he had no idea what to do with himself or what to think.

He sat at the table on the other side of me, sipping tea. He told me he didn’t like tea when he was alive but was pleased at how comforting it was now. I had already refilled his teacup once. He sipped this second beverage slower, attempting to pace himself. But I think his anxiety was getting the better of him, and he tried to do anything he could to make himself feel better about his current situation.

“If I’m not in heaven or hell, then where am I?” he asked.

“You’re in the Spirit World, or the Afterlife, as some like to call it,” I explained.

“Right, the Afterlife should be heaven or hell.”

“But it’s not. This is it.”

“This can’t be it.”

“It is,” I replied matter-of-factly. “The thing is, when the souls are alive, they attempt to learn about their surroundings and how the world works. They try to learn about other people, how they got there, and what they’re doing. They’re purpose and how to make connections and memories with others. But it’s a vast game of telephone.”

“Excuse me?” he questioned before I could continue.

I held up a hand, finishing my thoughts. “What many alive souls believe in comes from books and stories passed down from generations. One person claims something - they heard something or saw something - and people believe it. But other than the written word, there’s no actual proof that it ever existed. People believe it, and the story is told and retold for many years to come. Over time, it gets mistranslated. The story gets warped, and people believe in different things,” I clarified. “Are you following me so far?”

He nodded, taking another sip of his tea. He never took his gaze off of me, and I could tell he was genuinely interested in what I was trying to tell him.

“You were raised to believe in heaven and hell, but your version may or may not be correct, depending on who you ask.”

“It is correct.”

“Again, depending on who you ask. It’s all what they believe in,” I stated. “No one knows the full truth until they see it for themselves until they die.”

His mouth gaped open in an inaudible gasp. “I’m dead?”

I nodded.

He already knew he was dead, but he seemed to forget every two minutes. From what I could gather, he was in disbelief that he was actually dead because he wasn’t in heaven… or hell. I wasn’t sure where he thought he was supposed to be.

“And now you know the truth,” I said. “There is no heaven or hell or any version of it that you’ve heard when you were alive. This is the Afterlife. You’re a spirit in the Spirit World and you can freely roam this place or you can go back and forth between here and the Living World to still be with your loved ones.”

“I can go back home and be alive again?” he asked, straightening his posture. A grin formed across his lips, and I shook my head.

“No, I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant. You’re dead, but you can go back to the Living World as a spirit and watch over your loved ones. They won’t know you’re there, but you can leave hints for them if you’d like.”

He slouched in his chair again, taking another sip. He peered into the mug and then looked at me. I refilled it again. He blew on the steam before taking a sip.

I remained silent, letting him gather his thoughts and drink in the words I spoke to him.

He finally looked at me quizzically. “So… this isn’t heaven or hell?”

I suppressed a groan. “No.”

“But then, where exactly are we?”

“The Spirit World.”

“Right, but are we up or down?”

I stared at him. How was I going to explain this one to him?

“I mean, are we above the clouds or below the surface?” he clarified.

“No, I knew what you meant,” I replied. “I guess you could say we’re on the same plane as the Living World. We’re simply in our own area.”

“That makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You will when you get used to it.”

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. He looked out the window beside us, even though it showed nothing. I glanced at the clock on the other side of the room and it was still green. I wasn’t sure what I needed to say to this guy to get the clock to turn orange and end the session.

“What can I do here?” he finally asked.

I drew in a breath, knowing I’d have to explain this to him a few times. “You can stay here and roam around. Do whatever you feel like. You can meet other spirits or find past loved ones. You can also go back to the Living World, as a spirit, and be with those who are still alive. As I mentioned before, they won’t be able to hear or see you, but you can still find ways to let them know you’re around.”

He nodded, taking another sip of his tea. He gazed around the room. I wasn’t sure how much of my words sunk in. I too took a sip of my drink, attempting to fill in the awkwardness.

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

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apparitionsxanonymous · 2 months

Text

Decoration (Part Two)

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

“There’s still one thing I don’t understand, though,” she said.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Where exactly am I?”

“You’re in the Spirit World.”

“But was I a good person or a bad person? I assume good since it seems like I can do and go anywhere I want.”

“Again, that’s not how this place works. No matter what you did or didn’t do when you were alive, your soul still lives on. You can spend that time mingling and helping other souls, or you can continue to be with those you cared for in the Living World.”

She nodded her head, taking more sips of her tea. She peered into the cup.

“Would you like more?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I can barely taste it.”

“Yes, that’ll happen. The longer you’re dead, you’ll lose your senses over time.”

She gasped, staring at me, horrified.

“No, not your senses,” I clarified. “Your five senses. You’ll lose the ability to taste, touch, and smell. You’ll still be able to see and hear, though.”

She relaxed her shoulders for a brief moment before staring quizzically at me. “I won’t even be able to smell?”

“No.”

“But if I can still use my eyes and my ears, why can’t I use my nose?”

“I agree it’s a weird one to lose, but I didn’t make the rules.”

“Why won’t I be able to taste anything?”

“You don’t need to eat. You won’t get hungry.”

“But what about touching things?” she continued.

“If you could touch things, then you’d be a solid being. Solid beings can’t walk through walls,” I explained.

She seemed satisfied with that answer. Actually, she sighed in relief, nodding her head. I didn’t know why we lost some of our senses when we died. We simply didn’t need them anymore. You could argue that we should still have the ability to feel things, but if she wanted to walk through walls, then that was the best explanation I could come up with.

The clock on the wall turned orange. I didn’t know if we were running out of time because she was taking too long or if she was coming to terms with her death because she understood more of what she could do in the Spirit World.

Sometimes, that was all anyone needed. They needed clarification about why they were still here despite being dead. Many people believed in going to some far-off paradise, or they’d be reincarnated. Once they understood that the Spirit World is where everyone gathered together, and they had free will to go back and forth between here and the Living World, they were satisfied.

This spirit sitting opposite of me never once asked about her death. She never recounted anything that had happened in her life, like most souls did. She was here, and that was that. I felt she knew there was no going back, so why bother? She thought this room was her bedroom, and she wanted to make the most of it.

“What does that mean?” she asked, pointing to the clock.

“It means our session is coming to an end. Once it turns red, you’ll need to leave,” I explained.

“Am I able to come back and talk to you some more?” she asked.

“Anytime.”

“Oh, okay.” She looked at the clock again for a brief moment before turning her attention back to me. “I’m not upset I’m here, you know.”

I nodded. I never thought she was. But I guess now that the session was almost over, she decided now was a good time to pour her heart out.

“It’s weird, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t think I’d be here so soon. Actually, I didn’t think I’d be here at all. This Spirit World isn’t exactly as I imagined from when I was alive.”

I continued nodding my head, listening to her words. She wasn’t the only one. The truth was, not a single living being knew about the Spirit World. They only thought they knew about the Spirit World.

“But I think I’m going to try to make the best of it,” she said. “I mean, not that I have much of a choice, anyway. Since I’m here, though, I think I’ll spend some time here before returning to the Living World,” she stated.

“Why is that, if you don’t mind my asking?” It was certainly rare for a soul to want to stay in the Spirit World more than check out the Living World. She seemed to be so excited to be a ghost that I thought she’d be more than eager to head back to the Living World.

“I obviously don’t understand anything about the universe. What I imagined the afterlife being is not at all what I thought when I was alive,” she expressed. “I don’t think it’d be right for me to head back to the Living World just yet to help the ones I left behind. I need to understand this side of things first. I need to understand myself as a spirit and understand what I can do, what I’m capable of. It’ll only be then that I’ll feel comfortable and ready enough to use whatever new powers I have to help those still alive.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but she held up a hand to silence me.

She chuckled. “By powers, I mean walking through walls and stuff.”

I nodded, leaning back in my chair. I didn’t want her to think she could suddenly shoot lasers from her eyes.

The clock turned red, and she immediately stood.

“Thank you for your time,” she said.

“You’re welcome to come back whenever you feel like,” I replied.

She cast one last smile at me before exiting the room. I believe that might have been the first session where a spirit taught me something instead of me teaching them something.

I looked at the table, whisking away her mug and mine, leaving the table bare. I waved my hand delicately, causing a thin vase with a single blue rose to appear in the center of the surface.

I couldn’t smell it, but it was pretty to look at.

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

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apparitionsxanonymous · 2 months

Text

Decoration (Part One)

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

“Fascinating.”

I watched the soul pace the room, looking around. Although there was nothing to see. The room was black, with a window staring out into the void. It was meant to look as cozy as possible for the newly departed spirits. Not that I felt it did its job. The most real things in the room were myself and the other soul.

Even the table was an illusion. I created the beverages to the best of my abilities because the new souls could still taste somewhat.

“Really fascinating.”

The only decor in the room was the giant clock hanging on the wall above the doorway that the spirits enter and exit from. Of course, it wasn’t actually meant for decoration. It had a purpose. However, it did light the room up a bit, which was nice for some spirits.

“This is truly fascinating.”

I narrowed my eyes at the spirit wandering the room with her teacup in her hand. There was nothing to see. I didn’t know what she was doing. And could she think of no other word to describe the place? Was she broken?

Maybe she was trying to stay on my good side, thinking I’d send her back to the Living World? Was this all a sham to butter me up? But then she looked over her shoulder at me, smiling. “I never would have imagined this place.”

Lots of people imagined black voids. That’s what many people saw in their minds when they were meant to picture other things. Not everyone remembers their dreams, either, so they sleep within a black pit in their mind.

“Really?” I replied, attempting to sound fascinated.

Oh, great, now I was using her word.

“The clock is certainly a pleasant touch, but is it possible to get more light here?” She asked.

I shook my head. I wasn’t in charge of that. I was supposed to help the new souls cross over into the Spirit World.

“I think maybe some curtains on the window would help tie this room together a bit more. Maybe a couch over there?”

I furrowed my brows. I couldn’t get a good read on this soul. Was she genuinely trying to redecorate this place, interested in being here? Or, again, was she trying to get on my good side?

She sipped her tea before holding the cup up to me. “This is really good, too.”

“Thank you,” I replied, still confused. Maybe it would hit her in a minute about where she was and that she was dead.

“I’m assuming this is where the bad people go?” she asked.

Ah, now I see. She thought she was in some sort of hell and thought redecorating would make everything better.

“No, there is no place where specifically the bad people go or specifically where the good people go. We all go to the same place. This is the Spirit World for all departed souls,” I stated.

She hummed to herself, taking another sip of tea. She paced again, her gaze dancing all over the darkness of this room.

I didn’t know how I felt about her getting up and wandering around. I have never had a soul do that before. They were always too confused or upset to drink their beverage and talk, let alone explore the room. I didn’t know if she was grieving, and this was part of the process for her. She was aware she was dead, and yet I got the feeling that she thought this was a dream. It was almost as though she assumed she’d wake up and be alive again.

“But can I do anything I want in this room, at least?” she asked.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “This is a meeting room for myself and any souls who need to talk things out.”

“Oh,” she replied, sounding relieved. She finally moseyed back over to the table, sitting down across from me. She took another sip of her tea before holding onto the mug with both hands tightly. “I thought this was going to be my bedroom.”

I chuckled. Now everything made more sense. I didn’t blame her for wanting to redecorate.

“Do I have a bedroom here?”

I shook my head again. “You don’t need a bedroom. There’s no need to sleep. You won’t even need to eat soon. This place is for you and all the other departed to souls and wander as you want.”

“Oh.”

Clearly, that wasn’t a good enough answer for her.

“You can meet other spirits and be friends with them,” I explained further, trying to sound enticing. “But honestly, many spirits return to the Living World to be with their loved ones.”

“I can do that?”

“You can.”

“So, it’s like a second chance?”

I hesitated. “For what?”

“Life.”

“No.”

She frowned, confused.

“You don’t go back to the Living World to live,” I clarified. “You can go back and forth between the Spirit World and the Living World because you now have access to do so because you’re dead. You’ll be in the Living World as a spirit. No one will hear you or see you. But you can drop subtle hints to let your loved ones know that you’re around and that you’re watching over them.”

Her eyebrows arched up as if something I said suddenly intrigued her.

“So,” she said, “I can be a ghost?”

“Yes,” I replied. She technically already was a ghost, but I figured I’d keep my mouth shut about that one.

She grinned. “Well, that’s pretty cool!”

I pressed my lips into a smile. Most souls reacted in one of two ways when being reminded that they’re dead and that they’re a ghost: excited or freaked out; there was no in between.

Both emotions were difficult to deal with because the ones who freaked out always tried to bargain with me. The thought of being a ghost scared them.

On the other hand, the excited ones…

“Will I be able to walk through walls and stuff?”

I nodded.

She fist-pumped the air, a wide grin across her face.

Yeah, the excited ones immediately planned what they wanted to accomplish as ghosts. They thought about all the things they’d be able to do now that they weren’t able to when they were alive.

It was a silver lining for some but a curse to others.

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

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apparitionsxanonymous · 2 months

Text

Group Four

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

Around the table sat an elderly gentleman and two middle-aged women. One soul was genuinely at peace, while the other two were at peace for their own reasons. Everyone’s peace was different, so I wasn’t here to judge. However, I thought this group would be good to gather together and discuss the ups and downs of life and death.

“What did you die from?” the older man asked.

Both women shrugged their shoulders.

“I was sick.”

“An illness.”

He nodded at their responses in unison, turning a gaze on me. Sent him a reassuring gaze and decided to speak up.

“This gentleman here was in hospice before I came to bring him to the Afterlife,” I explained.

“Oh,” one of the women replied, turning to face him. “So, you were sick, too?”

“No,” he chuckled, “just old.”

The other woman scoffed, folding her arms defensively. “You’re lucky. You have to live your full life. I got sick and spent my last few months in a hospital bed with my family and friends, wasting their time surrounding my bedside.”

The man frowned. “I don’t think they wasted their time at all. My family did the same for me when I was in the hospital. I was there for three weeks before moving to a hospice house, where they visited me there, too. They talked to me. Reminded me how much they loved me. I don’t know if they knew, but I heard every word. They were grieving for me before I ever left, but it helped me find my peace before I made it here. I’m sure your family did the same.”

The woman dropped her arms into her lap. I could see her expression change. She was deep in thought, not wanting to admit quite yet that she thought the man was right.

“And just because I’m old doesn’t mean I lived a full life. I had a wonderful life, of course. I’m proud of it. I’m proud of my family. But I had to give up many things because of my old age. I lived to be 88, but I couldn’t do the things I loved anymore,” he explained.

Both women leaned closer, drinking in his words.

“Walking grew to be a struggle. I couldn’t garden. I couldn’t drive. Reading grew difficult as my eyes worsened. All I could do was sit and watch TV. Unless my family was over at the house for something, I didn’t do much at all. I couldn’t.”

One woman sighed, leaning back again. “I couldn’t do anything either after a while. Once my sickness got hold of me, that was it. At least you got to watch TV at home. I was in a hospital for months.”

The man gently smiled. “But you still had your family by your side, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but…”

“Did you love them?”

“Of course I did.”

“And they loved you?”

“Well, I should hope so if they spent so much of their free time at the hospital, of all places.”

He grinned, nodding his head. “It’s not ideal. No one wants to be in the hospital. My last night in bed, I asked my son to give me one more night. I knew I wouldn’t be coming home once I entered the hospital. I hoped I’d drift off in my sleep. It’d make things easier for everyone. But I apparently still had another month left. A long, grueling month for myself and my family.

“But I don’t think my family would have it any other way. Sure, they didn’t like seeing me suffer, but people suffer every day, and there’s not much we can do about it. We need to work together to overcome those situations and feelings. I’m sure your family wouldn’t have changed anything, either. You were sick and knew there was nothing that could be done. So, they did what they needed to - what they wanted to - and were there for you.”

I noticed the woman crack a smile. She didn’t reply, but she nodded her head ever so slightly. He got her thinking differently, and that’s all I could ask for.

“You were 88, you said?” The other woman piped up.

He nodded.

“And… did you have any older siblings still alive?”

“No,” he stated somberly, “I was the youngest of seven. All of them went before me. It’s been ages since I’ve seen my last siblings.”

She sighed, slouching in her chair. I knew that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear since she had passed away before her older brother and even her parents. But before I could chime in with my two cents, the gentleman spoke up again.

“There were supposed to be eight of us. My parents had another child after me. He unfortunately got sick as a baby and passed away.”

That got her attention.

“A… baby?”

“Sadly, yes.”

“Oh,” she muttered. “I guess my age doesn’t seem nearly as bad now.”

“It’s a shock, I know,” I joined in on the conversation. “There’s no telling how long someone will remain in the Living World. You don’t know the time limit you have until time is up.”

“Why does it work like that?” one woman asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “I didn’t make the rules. You need to learn how to live your life while you’re living it. It’s tough not knowing the end goal until after you’ve finished playing the game, but I imagined you all reached some sort of end goal in your lifetime.”

“I watched my family grow, and I had a successful career,” the old man replied. “I wouldn’t have changed my life for anything.”

I grinned, knowing he was certainly at peace. “Ladies?” I turned my attention to them.

“I had a wonderful career, too. I wasn’t interested in settling down and having a family, but I did a lot of traveling. I saw so many amazing sights before I was bedridden,” one of the women replied. “I guess it was a sour ending, but I wouldn’t change anything leading up to it. I guess I’m grateful for all the time I did get.”

“And I’m grateful for all the time my family gets that I won’t,” the other woman answered. “It’s weird not being alive anymore. There are still things I want to do, but I guess you’re right. I wouldn’t change anything I already had the chance to do.

“Also, I don’t actually wish my brother to be dead,” she continued, casting me a sheepish expression. “He’s lived a good life, and I’m happy he can continue that life. Maybe he can accomplish more than what I could do.”

The clock turned red before I could say much else. It seemed I had picked this group well. The two women struggling with the thoughts of their demise seemed to get a lot out of the gentleman’s story.

I wasn’t always able to get through to a spirit within one session or even multiple sessions. Sometimes, they needed all the help from other spirits. Just like in the Living World, the Afterlife was in this together.

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

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apparitionsxanonymous · 2 months

Text

Free [Part Two]

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

I leaned forward, propping my elbow up on the table and resting my cheek in the palm of my hand. “Do you think they don’t grieve for you?”

They glared at me. “That’s not what I meant at all. When you’re sick in the hospital - bedridden - it takes a toll on those who care for you. You become a burden. They tell you you’re not, but it’s all lies for your benefit. The hospital is the last place they want to be. Seeing you in a hospital room, hooked up to beeping machines, is the last place they want to keep you company.

“Now that I’m gone, they don’t need to worry about that anymore. No more hospitals. No more figuring out who’s going to visit me and when. No more meetings with doctors or wondering which pill I need to take next.” They looked at me, their gaze no longer angry or confused but filled with sadness. However, a small smile formed on their lips.

“When the living says the dead is at peace, they’re not talking about the dead. They think they are, but they’re not,” they continued. “We’re confused. We’re alone. We’re grieving for what we’ve lost. But the living… they smile through the pain and tell themselves that we’re better off. That’s how they get through the sadness. Because if they tell themselves that the deceased is okay… well, they’ll believe just about anything if it makes them feel better.”

For the first time, I was rendered speechless. It was rare when a spirit was so completely aware of the bridge between the dead and the living. It was true; the living world told themselves many stories they believed to be true. Because if they didn’t have anything to believe in, what was the point of living? They needed that hope to give them strength to move forward.

“What a selfish thing to do,” they said scornfully.

I gasped, taken aback. “Selfish?” I repeated.

They nodded but followed up with a smirk. “I’m not completely innocent, though, either. I lied, you know.”

I remained silent, waiting for them to continue.

“I said my family couldn’t hear me anymore, but who’s to say if they could or couldn’t.”

I knew the answer to that one. They wouldn’t be able to, no matter how loudly they screamed. But I decided to keep my mouth shut.

The clock on the wall turned red, and they stood, somehow knowing exactly what that meant.

“I never tried calling out them,” they revealed, still smiling. “I couldn’t. When they got the call, I was gone; not a single tear had been shed. They were happy for me, thinking this was what I wanted. Thinking I was no longer in pain, finally at peace or whatever. They were all finally free.

“And it was that same moment I realized I was free, too. Honestly, I haven’t felt this good in a long time. Not since before that illness took over. I’m not happy with the outcome. There were so many things I still wanted to do in life. I still hurt, yearning to see my loved ones again. But I’m free, so… I guess peace will come soon enough.”

They walked away without another word, without another glance in my direction. I didn’t know if I’d see them in the crossover room again, but it seemed as though they had talked themselves out of or into whatever they needed to. What they’d do next was a mystery to me.

Should I have told them that their loved ones did shed tears? They shed many tears the past couple of months, but they did so in private. Because just as they didn’t want to burden their loved ones, their loved ones didn’t want to show fear or pity.

The truth was, the living did tell themselves the deceased went quickly and was no longer in pain to make themselves feel better. It often confused the spirits and sometimes angered them, but what they didn’t realize was that they did the same thing. Telling themselves they were no longer a burden to their loved ones was similar to telling themselves that the living were now at peace and no longer in pain.

It was a harsh truth to omit to the recently departed. However, that unknown would help everyone find their peace with the loss in time.

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please consider visiting my Ko-fi page.

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apparitionsxanonymous · 2 months

Text

Free [Part One]

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“One moment they’re here and the next… you blink, and they’re gone.”

“I know. We had a lovely conversation last night. So, when I got the phone call this morning saying they’d…”

“But they’re not in pain anymore. It was quick. I’m almost… happy for them, I guess.”

“Quick? They’ve been in the hospital for two months.”

“Right, but the actual death was quick. And no one wants to spend the rest of their life in the hospital.”

“Can you see me?”

The third voice jolted me out of my eavesdropping. I shouldn’t have been watching and listening to the living. I had a soul I needed to bring back. When I turned around, the newly deceased stood a few feet away from me, staring deeply into my soul.

I nodded.

“Are you here to take me home?”

I sighed. “That depends; which home are you talking about?”

“Not this one. My family can’t hear me anymore.”

*

I didn’t need to wait long for this spirit to talk to me again. They found their way to the crossover room. I stared at them as they gazed out into the abyss through the hole in the wall that mocked a window.

“So this is it, then?” they asked.

I stayed silent. Were they talking about death? The afterlife? Their new home, as they liked to refer to it?

“This is what death is like. What a joke.”

I peered down into my mug, watching the steam delicately rising from the liquid. As the Grim Reaper, I was always confident in reading the souls’ emotions. But this one? I had no idea.

They were numb. I didn’t know if that was due to grief or secret relief.

“Quick? Painless? Is that something the living tells themselves to make them feel better about their loved ones moving on from the world?”

Yes. Yes, it was. But I didn’t dare say that out loud.

“I guess I shouldn’t be angry. I said that many times to people who had lost loved ones. But now I know the truth. It’s not quick. The journey here sucked.”

I cast my gaze back to the spirit before me. They still stared out the window, and all I could see was their profile. I couldn’t read their full expression. But the tone in their voice… was it anger? Sadness?

“Until you came along, I mean,” they added casually. “It took me a moment to realize you were there for me, but before I completely left my body… it wasn’t quick, that’s all.”

I nodded despite them still not looking at me. They were right. The soul leaving its physical form was a rough process. It wasn’t as quick as blinking or as peaceful as falling asleep. The soul and body were connected in ways no one could ever understand - not even me.

The soul doesn’t rise from the body delicately like the living world depicts in movies. No, it rips itself free. The body doesn’t want to let go. It holds on tight; the heart and brain are always the last to loosen their grip.

But the soul doesn’t want to leave, either. It doesn’t fly out of its physical form because it wants to. The spirit world pulls it through to the other side. When time is up, when the clock turns red, that’s it.

There’s no going back, no changing fate’s mind.

The body and soul are woven together into a beautiful tapestry of individuality. Every death on the outside is different but on the inside? It’s a struggle. The soul doesn’t want to leave, but it has no choice. And the body doesn’t understand until it’s too late.

“It wasn’t painless, either.” They continued, unaware that I was lost in my own thoughts. “All those months spent in the hospital… even on my good days, I lay in that bed struggling to move. I couldn’t breathe. I suffocated.”

I didn’t understand the extent of this spirit’s illness when they were alive. All I knew was that by the time they were diagnosed, it was too late. It was terminal. They had a few months left to live.

Unfortunately, after three weeks of final freedom, the illness took a turn for the worse, and they spent their final two months in a hospital bed.

“I get it, though. At least, I think I do,” they stated, turning away from the abyss to peer into their mug. “No one wants to see their loved ones suffering. So, it makes me wonder… were they happy I was at peace or because it finally brought them peace?”

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please consider visiting my Ko-fi page.

#creative writing #paranormal fiction #short story #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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