Dining With Death

The pair stood face to face, neither of them uttering a single word, a comfortable silence falling over them, draping itself around them and the surrounding area. The taller of the two cast her dark eyes down to the boy below. He was tall for his age, but he looked so much younger; he had his eyes to blame for that. They were bright, a light hazel perhaps, and they held a look of pure innocence, as if the boy could do no wrong. It gave him a renewed sense of youth, although the boy was most likely in his late teens.

The boy chanced a glance up at the woman beside him. He was anxious, worried, confused, but most of all, he was downright petrified. He had no clue as to what was happening. The last thing he could remember was being in a car - was it a car? - with a few other people whose identities escaped him. His mind was a blank from then onwards. He'd hoped to extract an explanation from the woman towering over him, but her mind seemed to be occupied with other, much bigger plans.

He looked down at his feet, to his battered trainers that he wore almost every day, hoping to pass the time in some way. Something felt wrong though, something wasn't right. There was a snapping sound, and he jumped, his eyes darting back up again and scanning around in confusion. There was a brief moment in which the room they were standing in appeared to have been replaced with nothing but a blank space, but before he had time to dwell on that, his surroundings changed again, morphing into the living room of the little house he and his family resided in. The room had been cleared, all furniture pushed to one side, and chairs had been set up in a semicircle along the wall nearest the door. His view of the object lining the opposite wall was obstructed by his mother's thin frame, hunched over it, sobbing. It was only when she straightened up, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief that he saw what it was she was crouching over. Sitting in his living room, as plain as day, was a coffin.

His eyes immediately sought out the woman from earlier, desperately seeking answers. It was like his memory of the past twenty four hours had been entirely erased, and somehow in that time, there had been a casualty. His mind began to wander and he dreaded to think of who it might be.

There was a faint swishing sound and the woman was by his side once more. She lowered her head to his level, her hair falling in front of her face like sheets of black silk. "Go on, Sean," she whispered softly. "Take a look."

The boy, Sean, caught her eye briefly and she nodded, giving him all the confirmation he needed. Slowly he began to walk towards the booden box at the edge of the room. His felt faint and weak, his legs turning to lead, as his mind raced through the list of people it could be. It wasn't his mother as he'd seen her only minutes previously, which he was thankful for, but she was just one woman, there were plenty more to choose from. He stood before the casket, and ever so slowly peered in. He recognised the face immediately. The hazel eyes, the mop of sleek blond hair, the unmistakable look of a sleeping angel. He frowned. Despite how familiar the kid looked, he couldn't quite place him in the family. Was he a second or third cousin perhaps? Or a great, great nephew of his mother's?

The woman picked up on his confusion and smiled down at him sadly. "You don't recognise him, do you?" Sean shook his head truthfully. "It's you."

His breath caught in the back of his throat. No. No, no, no, no, no. That boy wasn't him. That boy couldn't be him.

The woman gave him another sympathetic smile. "You were in a car accident, Sean, but you won't remember that. The other two passengers survived with severe injuries, but unfortunately you never made it. I'm sorry."

His shook his head so violently that he was sure he was going to throw up. His eyes welled with tears. No. This was some sort of disgusting joke. He looked up again at the woman, who simply shook her head gently.

"You're lying," he spat, his words loaded with venom. "This is some sort of sick joke, but I'm not falling for it."

The woman actually laughed a little, the sound filling the empty room. "I'm a stranger to you, boy, why would I want to play such a trick on you?"

Sean sighed, considering it. She was right. "If I'm..." he dropped his voice before trailing off, unable to bring himself to finish the sentence, "then who - who are you?" he asked, his voice quivering.

She smiled, clearly used to the question. "My name is Tessa. I'm a Reaper." He shot her a quizzical look. "I'm simply the messenger. I'm here to explain things to you, and then you make a choice. You can either remain here, trapped within the same four walls forever, torturing the poor souls inside, or you can come with me."

"If I go with you..." He paused. "If I go with you, where do I go?"

Tessa seemed to lose herself for a moment, her face dropping, but it was barely a few seconds before she regained her composure, answering simply, "On."

She held her hand out for Sean to grasp, and he watched her carefully, studying her eyes, before making his decision. He placed his hand in her open palm, and with a firm hand on his shoulder, he allowed himself to be led away. His mother shivered as they passed her, while Tessa steered him out the door. She had no idea where her son's spirit was now or where it was headed, but she held onto the hope that wherever he was going, he'd be at peace.