Becoming Death

by Melissa Brown

  My body ached like I had finished a marathon. My neck agreed with the sentiment by cracking in successive pops as I lifted my head. My eyes fluttered open again, taking in my surroundings. The fire was gone and the room had returned to the familiar smell of aftershave. I couldn’t help but wonder, hope, that maybe I had just hit my head. That I had imagined the fire and the creature. That the unsettling darkness in my chest was a figment of my imagination—a very overactive one, at that. But then I trailed my gaze down to my torso, my vision coming back in focus.

  I was still wearing the black robe.

  My eyes darted between my mother and sister. I choked out a pitiful, “What happened?”

  Clarissa turned away and rubbed her palm against her forehead. “You’re too young… It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”

  “What happened?” I hear a rather shaky version of my voice ask again. I tried to rise, but my mother held pretty hard onto my shoulders.

  “It’s better if you try to relax,” my mother said. “You’re going to need some time to understand and digest what has happened. I’m sorry we couldn’t warn you.”

  My mother’s face was tear-stained, and I knew part of me should want to make her feel better. To assure her that I was fine. That it would be okay.

  But I didn’t know that, and all I wanted to do was ask her a million questions. What was that thing? Why was it inside a trunk with my name on it? What did it do to me?

  My throat ached from even thinking about talking, and I could tell by the concern on my mother and sister’s faces that they might not have all the answers I was desperate for. So, I settled for just one.

  “What happened to me?”

  My mother closed her eyes and shook her head. “Madison, you died.”

  “What?” I fumbled my way to my feet and pushed two fingers against the underside of my wrist—nothing. “No!” I pressed my fingers to the side of my neck, but there was still nothing. No pulse. “No, I didn’t! I couldn’t!”

  I slapped away my mother’s hand when she reached for me and backed into the corner of the room, holding my uneasy stomach.

  “Why would you say that? I’m walking around. I’m talking to you. Both seem like really good indicators that I’m still alive.”

  “You were dead, but you reawakened. It happens to all of us,” my mother said.

  “You’re kind of a zombie,” Clarissa offered, as if that was some sane and logical sort of explanation for whatever this was.

  My eyes widened. “Neither of you are making any sense.”

  “Quiet, you’re not helping, Clarissa,” my mother hissed, glaring at my sister. “Dear,” she continued, returning her stern gaze back to me, “it honestly wasn’t supposed to happen this way. You had years before you were meant to be called. Somehow, you broke the rules and He decided you were ready earlier than planned.”

  “Stay back,” I whimpered. “What did you even do to me? Drug me?”

  “I would never!” my mother snapped, recoiling from my accusations. “That thing you saw was real.”

  “Liar!” I shouted back.

  “Why would we lie?” my mother asked.

  I slumped forwards, giving in to my fatigue and letting myself collapse onto the carpet. “Why would you let that thing hurt me? I know you’ve always loved Clarissa more but…” I was too tired and confused to continue.

  I didn’t have to look up into my mother’s blue eyes to know that she was looking at me in her I-am-passing-judgment-on-you way. “I don’t get a choice over who it chooses. I thought you would be safe while you were still so young. I tried to throw you off the trail… to protect you… but you ignored my warnings.”

  I glanced at the trunk that was responsible for starting this whole mess. “What was that thing and why did it choose me?”

  Nodding at my mother, Clarissa rubbed her shoulder with a compassion I couldn’t even fathom in that moment. She was calm—that shouldn’t have been possible. What was worse, was my mother. She was there—right in front of me—standing up perfectly straight, her arms stiff at her sides. “The creature you saw was Death taking physical form. He killed you so you could reawaken as a grim reaper.”

  I waved her explanation away. It was crazy talk. “Grim reapers don’t exist. They’re as fake as the tooth fairy and unicorns.”

  “You’re wrong. We’re all grim reapers,” my mother explained.

  I stood up and walked around the room, twisting my hand in my hair. “Do you know how insane you sound? Mom, you’re an accountant, not some fairy tale character that goes around stealing souls.”

  “Being a grim reaper is your destiny. You’re part of a legacy that has been in place for thousands of years. The powers have been passed down for generations within our family. I’m one and Clarissa is one, just as your grandmother and your aunt are too. We all have been called to do this work, and it’s important that you accept it,” my mother said, her chin raised.

  “Well, I don’t accept it! Who did we piss off to get cursed with this so-called destiny anyway?” I asked as I ripped off the stupid robe and tossed it onto the ground.

  “We’re the bridge between the living and the dead. It’s an honor, not a curse,” my mother said. “The job has rewards. For every person we help guide into the afterlife, we earn another year of existence. You can be immortal, if you want to be.”

  My eyes began to burn after staring at her wide-eyed so long. I could feel my chin dipping into my chest. “If I’m a reaper, does that mean I killed my boss?”

  “No, you didn’t have your powers yet. It must have been some other reaper,” my mother said casually, casting a quick glance at my sister. I watched her closely, waiting for something that would help me tell if she was lying. When the listening to non-existent answers became too toxic, I held my stomach and turned away. It was too much.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught my mother walking over to the trunk and reaching inside. She pulled out a book and wiped dust from its cover. “You’ll need this. It will help answer some of the questions you’ll have and give you some guidance on how to get started.” She held the book out to me.

  I stared at her, cautiously, and I couldn’t help but laugh when I looked down at the title. It was called Becoming a Grim Reaper.

  When I didn’t move to take it from her, my mother placed it at my feet. “When you’re ready,” she said.

  I kicked the black robe over it. “But why us?”

  “Just fate, I believe.”

  “Don’t I get a choice? Maybe there’s a loophole where I can just go back to being me again? I don’t want to be some serial-killing ghoul’s minion.” I knew my voice was rising, but I couldn’t help it. This wasn’t fair. Not even close. “It’s wrong. We shouldn’t be asked to do it!”

  My mother picked up the robe, folded the dark, creepy fabric together and held it to her chest. “You can’t ignore it,” she began softly. “There are measures in place. Your uncle tried to ignore his call and Death punished him with unbelievable pain until he died—permanently. You have to fulfill Death’s wishes or he’ll take you instead. There’s no loophole. It’s your life now,’ my mother said, patting the folded bundle for added emphasis.

  My eyes lowered to the floor. “So, we’re his slaves.”

  Before I could look up, my mother pulled me to her chest and ran her fingers through my hair, just as she had comforted me a million times before when I younger. Except, this wasn’t a scraped knee or the school bully pulling my hair. The gesture didn’t work like it should—not really. “It’s not that bad, dear,” she cooed into my ear.

  We both knew it was a lie.

  I broke free, yanking at the oversized robe and scrunching it into as horrible of a wad as I possibly could. “Please tell me I’m not going to have to wear this everyday.”

  My mother’s chuckling soothed my ragged nerves. “Have you ever seen me in mine? Don’t worry. The robes are only for private ceremonies.”

  Chapter 5


  “Welcome to the family business, Madison,” my mother said, raising her wine glass.

  “Congratulations, honey,” Aunt Jessica said, clinking our glasses together. “It’s so wonderful to have some young blood taking up the family business. It wasn’t fair to leave it all up to your sister to bring us into the next century.”

  “It’s always changing, this business,” my grandmother said, taking a sip of her drink.

  “Thanks everyone. I’ll try my best,” I said. I adjusted the sleeves of the pink cardigan my mother had insisted I changed into.

  My grandmother patted my shoulder. “You’ll do us proud. It’s all so exciting and nerve-racking when you start out. I can remember my first victim—he had been my grade school gym teacher. That jerk used to exhaust us then to threaten to fail us if we couldn’t run a mile in the last ten minutes of class. It felt great to get a little revenge.”

  My mouth hung open. My sweet grandmother plotting revenge seemed so alien.

  “How did he die?” Aunt Jessica asked.

  “I made him run until he couldn’t run anymore. He was out of shape. He didn’t last long. He had a heart attack after twelve miles,” she said, grinning.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “Is it always someone you know?”

  “Not always,” Aunt Jessica said, swirling the liquid in her glass.

  “Rarely,” my mother corrected her. “As difficult as that sounds, it is not an excuse to not perform your duty.”

  Aunt Jessica squeezed her lips together as she twisted her strawberry blonde hair. “Just be careful. Don’t get yourself involved in anything that looks like a murder. I thought it would be fun to pass myself off as a private investigator, but it just made the local police suspicious. You don’t want that. This job is hard enough to do without some over-eager police officer following you around and checking your whereabouts constantly.”

  My mother shook her head. “That stupid television program.”

  “Now that wasn’t my fault, Ann Marie. How was I supposed to know some TV producer got his rocks off reading the local paper and keeping track of every time my name was mentioned?” my aunt said.

  “You didn’t have to sign the contract.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes. “What was I supposed to do? I needed the money and he had me over a barrel. He threatened to go to the police with his so-called evidence. It’s bad enough I had to change back to my maiden name and move.”

  “You are much too reckless for your own good. You’re fortunate you didn’t end up in jail or exposing your reaper powers to the world.”

  “Honestly, Ann Marie, I’ve seen some of the things you’ve done. I’m hardly as reckless. I’m a sweet old woman—no one would ever suspect me. They’d just think I’d read too many mystery novels and had gotten myself in over my head,” Aunt Jessica explained.

  My mother glared at her sister as she cut a piece of her pork chop. “You’ll get yourself arrested with that attitude. Or maybe someday the police will get an anonymous tip.”

  “Girls,” my grandmother interrupted them. “This is Madison’s day, let’s try to keep it civil.”

  Jessica huffed.

  My mother pushed her scarlet hair behind her ear. “Yes, of course. Where were we?” my mother said, getting up from the table and going to the china cabinet. She returned with a large jewelry box with a red ribbon tied around it and slid it towards me. “It’s time you had one of these.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “What is it?” I asked.

  “Open it and find out,” my grandmother said.

  I fumbled with the ribbon, removing it from the box. The lid opened smoothly, revealing a dark chain decorated with black and red stones, with a single black pearl hanging from it. I glanced between my mother and sister’s necks. “It’s just like yours and Clarissa’s.”

  Clarissa touched the nearly identical piece of jewelry around her neck. “I got mine on the day I was chosen too.”

  “It’s a family tradition that on your choosing day, a symbol of your adulthood and responsibility is given to you. In our family, we give pearls to women and watches to men,” my grandmother explained.

  “But I’m only eighteen,” I said, staring down at the necklace.

  My mother shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. Death has deemed you ready. You’re no longer my little girl anymore.” My mother lifted the piece of jewelry from the box and held it in front of me. “Would you like to try it on?” I reached for it but she said, “Allow me, dear.”

  I lifted my hair, allowing her to position the piece around my neck. I touched the pearl, rolling its smoothness between my fingers. “Why is it black?”

  “To represent your role as a reaper, the guardian between life and the afterlife.”

  I pointed at my mother’s pearls. “But yours are white.”

  Her eyes lowered. “This isn’t my choosing day necklace. I lost mine a long time ago. Plus black clashes with my hair.”

  “Have you decided who’s going to mentor Madison with her first client yet?” my grandmother asked. “I’d be more than happy to go along with her to make sure she gets on alright.”

  “If it’s okay, grandma, I thought I’d be her mentor. She’ll probably want to use some of the modern technology we have now, so I’d be best to help with that,” Clarissa said, waving her cell phone.

  “You can use your phone?” I asked. “What do you do, take their soul via text message?”

  My sister wrinkled her nose. “No, we have an app to assist us. They’ll tell you all about it at Reaping 101 next week,” Clarissa said, pointed at a black app with a skull and crossbones as its icon.

  “Reaping 101?” I said, my eyes widening.

  “It’s your beginners’ training. Every new reaper has to attend. How else would you learn how to use your powers?” my mother said.

  I cocked an eyebrow at her. She had to be kidding. “I have to go back to school? I thought this was my destiny and I was supposed to know what to do automatically.”

  My mother laughed. “There is no way I’m letting you out on the streets without training. Sometimes there are serious complications, times when it may be difficult for you to follow the rules. You need to be trained how to safely do your job so you don’t put yourself, other reapers or clients in danger.”

  “Safety training? I’m going to kill them anyway. Don’t I have to just touch them and take the soul? I’m sure I can manage that without some boring class,” I told her.

  “Honey, you aren’t the most responsible girl at the best of times. You have to learn the rules and follow them. No exceptions, ever,” she said sternly.

  “Fine, I’ll go,” I sighed.

  “Make sure you read the manual before you go, that way you’ll pass quickly and we can get you straight onto your first client,” Clarissa said.

  I picked up the book from the table, opening it a random page, and read: “The first appearance of a grim reaper dates back to the twelfth century. The Black Plague ravaged through Europe killing an estimated 75 million people.”

  My eyes glazed over. This was not going to be easy reading.

  “I’m back and I bought home leftovers,” I shouted, opening the front door to my apartment.

  “Be right out,” Aaron called from the bathroom.

  I could hear the shower running and I double-checked the hallway before dashing into my bedroom. I glanced around the room looking for the perfect hiding spot before opening my dresser. I removed the ancient text from the waistband of my jeans and buried the strange new book under my underwear and bras. Breathing a sigh of relief, I wandered to the kitchen to unpack the leftovers from lunch.

  “I call dibs on any potato salad,” Aaron said.

  “I know, I bought it home for you. I always do.”

  Aaron entered the room wearing only a pair of sweatpants. His eyes fell on my outfit. “Why are you dressed like a soccer mom?” he asked, then rooted through the plastic bag to remove the remaining Tupperware.

 
“Borrowed from my mother, long story.” I pointed to his sweatpants. “Do we have a new dress code I didn’t know about?”

  “You mean you don’t like this eye candy?” He ran a hand through his light dusting of dark chest hair.

  I raised an eyebrow. I had to admit the view wasn’t bad. He was thin but there was still a hint of muscles. He had started to look a lot more like his brother as he got older.

  “Did you forget to do laundry again?”

  He glanced across the kitchen. “It’s in the dryer. I had an incident with a bottle of mustard earlier and my shirt was a casualty. I promise to get fully dressed once it comes out.”

  I smirked. “Good. If I can’t walk around topless, you shouldn’t be able to either.”

  “Do what makes you comfortable,” he said

  I covered my mouth with my hand. “Never gonna happen.”

  “Hey, I was just solving the problem.” He picked up the potato salad and a fork.

  I nudged him with my hip as he tried to pass me. “Why don’t you try world hunger next?”

  He stuck his tongue out at me before taking a bite of the potato salad. “The nectar of the gods. Remind me why I don’t marry that woman so she can cook for me everyday?”

  “Eww, first of all gross, that’s my mother, and second she’s twice your age.”

  He shrugged. “Age is only a number. It wouldn’t bother me if I was eating like a king everyday.”

  “I repeat. Eeww.”

  “Speaking of gross crushes, I got Marcus to pick up your car. He said it’ll be a few days before it’s back on the road again.”

  “Aww, that’s so nice of him. A few days is fine. I’ll need it for class next week.”

  “You’re going back to school?”

  “Umm… yeah, I guess. Mom kind of roped me into it. It’s an… accountancy course,” I blurted out. “I told her I learnt to cash up at the Burger Hut, but she thinks it will help me start acting more grown up so I can sort out my own finances.”

  “Well if you learn to add up half as well as her it’ll be worth it, but that does mean I can never let you move out. I’ll need someone to keep track of my millions when I’m rich.”