A deal with death
As much as Diana loathed clichés she couldn’t dodge this one. She sighed as she walked amongst the tombstones, irritated that she’d even taken the job in the first place. After all, she was the newly appointed Grim Reaper of her area, a highly prestigious mission. Far above checking in on rumours of a ghost harassing a small cemetery! Were it not for her oldest friend, Tobias, asking personally to address the ghost issue of his church, she would’ve said no – or assigned it to one of her underlings. Any new reaper could deal with one little ghost.
She sighed and pushed her hood down, squinting across the darkened tombstones. Thick whirls of mist gathered amongst them, disturbed only when a feint breeze howled mournfully. Leaves rustled eerily overhead. It was the perfect setting for a horror scene; if Diana was mortal, she might have even been a little scared. Unperturbed, she continued her wandering, idly glancing over the numerous inscriptions. Many were cliched, heartfelt to someone, probably picked from a brochure. Some simply had names and dates, as though that was all their lives amounted to. A little writing on some stone.
Somewhere, there was a stone with her name on it and a date. Her parents had done only what was required, nothing further. There was no cute sentiments or flowers regularly laid. The last she saw her grave was overgrown with weeds, though in spring time it sometimes flowered.
Deeper into the misty depths of the cemetery a strange tombstone caught her gaze. She slowed, then stopped, a smile stretching across her mouth.
Game over. Continue?
There was even a little slot for coins next to it, as if the stone was a machine itself. She dug her hand into her pockets, fishing out a small golden drachma. There weren’t many left since her last little excursion to visit Hades. She toyed with the coin for a moment, then pushed the coin into the slot. To her surprise she heard the clink of it as it rattled down, then settled in some container deep below. She stepped back, hands crossed over her chest, half expecting something to happen, the other half chiding herself for expecting.
She stood there for several minutes, then reminding herself she had a mission to complete, turned away. That’s when she heard it. The earth shifting, dirt splitting, grass tearing. She turned back just as a hand burst from the ground, pale and spindly. Delicate. A woman’s hand. Another followed, frantically grasping, clawing itself out. It struggled furtively so Diana grabbed the hand and yanked, stepping back, pulling the woman from the dirt. She flopped out across the upturned dirt like a fish, gasping for a moment before she settled, then pushed herself up. There was a confused and haunted look in her eyes, baffled as to what had just happened. Her gaze lifted to Diana.
“Who the hell are you?”
Diana froze for a moment, then she finally smiled and held out her hand again. “I’m the Grim Reaper. Interested in a job?”
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