{tried something a little different here. Featuring the shadow bear.
End of note}
Time and space
Tick
Tick
Tick
The shadow bear looked down at his pocket watch. It ticked closer to another mortal's final hours.
Well, he has a job to do.
So he stood up and stepped over to the portal. The swirling blue and black vortex might be intimidating to some, but to him it was another part of his job. So he passed through and into the familiar white walls of a hospital.
"Ah, another one of these." He mumbled while pulling his watch out again. The person he was seeing off was nearby. No doubt an angel would arrive soon to escort the soul to whatever afterlife awaited them. The bear entered the room, various family members were gathered around a bed, some older ones were crying, loved ones holding the sick woman's hand praying to whatever deity they believed to not take their loved one. Young children clutched in their parents arms, unsure of the true gravity of the situation or what it means to die.
It was a sight he was used to. Never made it any easier though. The bear sighs, and sits himself on an unoccupied chair, he knew the living couldn't see him. But those close to death could. He wouldn't call himself a grim reaper exactly. Though the concept the humans came up with was amusing, trying to personify death and make the unknown less scary. The watch ticked closer to the final hour.
Tick
Tick
Tick
The angel had arrived, it was a lower ranking angel with only one pair of wings, but still a trusted ally to do their job. The sick woman had closed her eyes, the shadow bear tuned out the cries of distress when the heart beat monitor flatlined.
He stood up. The angel was holding the new soul close to them like a precious object. They briefly made eye contact, but the angle glanced away. He wasn't surprised. Most angels tended to be nervous around him. He rested a hand on the empty body, taking out a new clock, it wound itself like a cassette tape, recording all the precious memories of the deceased. It was a quick process, but by the time the clock was completed the angel was gone. The bear briefly glanced at the clock, humming as he skimmed though the memories.
"Seems they lived a good life." He looked up at the loved ones left behind. Crying and generally being distressed as they lost a precious mother, or aunt, or grandmother. He knew he couldn't be heard, but he felt compelled to speak.
"Rest easy, and know she will be cared for in the next life." He doubted they would find any solace in his silent words, but the gesture helped ease his own mind. As he walked back through the door he pocketed the clock, ignoring the doctors stepping in to handle the aftermath.
Stepping through the vortex he was once again in his domain. The twinkling stars dotted the ceiling bathing the area in a subtle light. He walked across the room and turned to enter what he called the 'hall of memories.' The room was lined wall to wall with many clocks, the ever expanding room housed the memories of all deceased. With a flick of his paw the walls scrolled to the empty spot prepare for this particular soul. Carefully he took out the clock and placed it in its spot, it settled in with a firm click, and silently ticked onward. He stepped back, admired his work. Than turned and left the room. Since the Old Man hadn't called for Him he safely assumed this soul didn't qualify for an angel position, which the bear expected, she might have been nice but wasn't extraordinary. The time keeper waltz into the area he called his living room, it had various styles of clocks carefully placed on the walls, each ticking in a synchronized rhythm. Over the blue flame fireplace hung a mural of a galaxy, it subtly moved in time with reality. The bear seated himself in his soft chair and leaned back with a sigh. His job was never over, and he was aware of his own spread presence doing similar jobs as he just completed, but it was a nice change of pace to record memories himself.
He looked over to his soft colored bookcase and made a gesture, summoning a book over to his side, checking his pocket watch he nodded, he had time for one short story before his next planned outing. So he opened the hard bound book and began to read.
The lighting from a star lit lamp gently providing a comforting aura to read from.
As he got into a rhythm he lost himself to the elegantly woven narrative and the rhythmic song of the ticking clocks.
Tick
Tick
Tick