Here at the Grim Reaper Dispatch Society we take care of the souls of those who have just passed on. Not only that, we judge them to see if they should or should not die. When we carry out our jobs we can never let our emotions get the best of us, or we will fail. Another important things about us Grim Reapers are the glasses. If you don't wear your glasses at all times, you are considered a traitor. Well, you'd need them anyway, considering how bad our eyesight's are.
I am James L. Moore. I have been working as a Grim Reaper for a few years. I guess you could say I'm still new. If you plan on working at the Grim Reaper Dispatch Society I hope you will read this before you decide on it. Trust me, it is a horrible job. Continue to read as I take you through my life as a Grim Reaper.
"James Moore to Mr. Spears's office. Morgan Dickens to Mr. Spears's office," said the woman over the intercom.
The two young Grim Reapers exchanged glances. Morgan, a Grim Reaper who appears to be fifteen with jet black hair and the plain green eyes ringed with gold, sighed. He looked down at his breakfast, "We're having pancakes today…"
James, a Grim Reaper seeming a year older with snowy white hair and the same pair of eyes, glared at Morgan, "What have you done this time?"
"Me? Why don't you ask yourself. I bet you offended your little role-model somehow," Morgan rolled his eyes.
James pushed up his midnight blue glasses by the left side, "Well, why don't we go and find out?"
"But I want to eat my pancakes first!" Morgan complained.
"If we're late we won't have the stomach to hold them," James said, grabbing the collar of Morgan's shirt and dragging him off to William Spears's office.
"You my friend, have a point," Morgan twisted around and began to walk on his own.
The only sounds that echoed the empty hall were the footsteps of the two Reapers. James fiddled with the gears of his pistols.
"So, what do you think Old Man Spears wants with us?" Morgan asked, just to clear the emptiness.
"Old Man Spears? He's only a few hundred years older than us, smart mouth," James rolled his eyes.
"Oh I'm sorry. I must have offended you…Mr. William Number Two," Morgan said.
James kept his mouth shut, knowing if he spoke it would probably end up in a fight. After the slight silence, James spoke, "We're probably in trouble because you insisted on taking a break and we missed two of the souls we were suppose to collect."
"Well, if you're so good you wouldn't have let your little friend snatch it," Morgan rolled his eyes.
"I kindly ask you not clump me together with that filthy race and call us…friends," James spoke the word as if it were a curse, cringing as he said it.
"Friends. It's not a bad word, James," Morgan mocked.
"We don't need friends. We need partners," James rolled his eyes.
"Oh…look…we're here," Morgan said, stopping in his tracks as they approached the oak door with the golden plaque that had engraved in it "William T. Spears".
Morgan nudged the older boy and nodded toward the door, "I have a feeling he's going to throw something at us if I open it."
James let out a frustrated sigh and turned the bronze doorknob, almost jumping at how cold it was.
Inside, William was writing something with a large quill. He looked up, straightening his glasses, "Sit, please. Both of you."
Morgan whistled, "Nice place you got here, boss."
"Don't call me that," William grumbled.
James sat down nervously. Morgan took the chair beside him, landing in a loud clack.
William glared coldly at Morgan, then gave a side-glance to James, "Well, now that we're all here-"
"We?" Morgan asked.
William glared at him again. Morgan held up his hands in mock defeat.
"Yes," William hissed, "we."
"Gosh, Will. Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud. The kid just wants to have fun," said a cheerful voice in the shadows of the room.
"He's just a simple brat without a care…like you, Ronald," the flamboyant voice that could not be mistaken rang throughout the room.
"Oh god no," James moaned.
"What's with that disappointed reaction, kid?" Ronald Knox hung his arm around James's shoulder. "Don't like us seniors?"
"You're reaction is as sweet as Williams," Grell cooed, leaning against Morgan's chair.
"Ronald and Grell! What's with this reunion?" Morgan sat up, his attention suddenly directed on William.
James angrily brushed Ronald off and looked to William for an explanation.
"You four, or should I say us five, will be going on a-"
"Cruise together! Yes, a romantic cruise where we will-"
James's elbow drove into Grell's face, sending him flying back into the door, "Shut up, Mr. Sutcliff."
William, complete ignoring James's obvious displeasure, continued, "We are going on a mission. On a cruise. There seems to be…a mass disturbance."
"Come on man! I've been working overtime for…how long?" Morgan looked at James.
"Three months. Not really. Since you've been procrastinating, those three months could have been merely three weeks, but you let the work pile," James said.
"Well, think about it as a vacation. We will have to be on the look out for…special activities though," William said.
"Any other heads up before we dive into something life-threatening?" Ronald asked.
"Of course not. I wouldn't let my subordinates die," William said, his lips pressed in a thin line.
After a moment of silence William said, "You are dismissed. Go pack your things and meet me at the Gates tomorrow."
Grell smiled flirtatiously, but didn't say anything, exiting the room quietly. Ronald waited for Morgan to stand and together they went back to finish their breakfast. All but James stayed.
"What's really going to happen?" James asked, standing up, but having no intention of leaving before he had an answer.
"Nothing. Honest."
"Will there me a massacre?" James asked.
William flipped through his book, not answering.
"There will, won't there?" James said.
"What if there will be? Would you try to stop it by not going? That's not going to work, Moore. If we don't do our jobs, the demons will have a feast tomorrow. Our jobs is to collect souls and decide on where to send them, not let them be eaten by those wretches," William said, his eyes glowing behind his glasses.
James took a deep breath, "I understand. Sorry for my outburst sir."
"No…excuse me for mine," William stood and walked towards the door, "Now will you please?"
"Good day sir…" James left, his head hanging slightly.
The life of a Grim Reaper-in all it's glory-is a lonely one. No matter what, even if you have friends you are still alone. Be careful what you do to carry this burden as a god.