Reaper

There is a stillness in the city as a clock tolls midnight.

No one see this, on a normal night. No one except the Reapers.

An unknown species lurks in the shadows of this city, a species perfectly adapted to sucking souls. Reapers are the creatures that most others lie awake worrying about. They feed on the one thing that humans and human-esque creatures have the most difficulty controlling – emotions. They hunt in the dead of night, taking their fill of the fear that seeps from the very pores of those walking alone in the dark.

A snap of a twig. A gust of wind. An adrenaline rush.

And a Reaper has had his fill.

There is an old children’s tune in the bowels of the city, and it warns of present danger:

Wipe your tears, silence your cheers,
Let your sadness get no deeper
But retain the fright to go out at night
Or soon you’ll meet the Reaper.



“Name, please.”

The nasty woman behind the counter stared up at be behind the thickest pair of glasses I had ever seen, hovering her Sharpie over the coffee cup impatiently, like I was holding up her progress for the rest of the day. Her gray, knotted hair was pulled into a tight bun that I just know she thought gave her a face lift, and her lipstick was so worn that you could tell she had been working all morning. In a word, yet another person I shrunk away from socializing with.

“Ch-Charlie,” I stuttered, fumbling with my wallet so that I could pay for mine and Mandi’s mocha-something-with-whip coffees and get the hell out of that place.

The woman rolled her eyes, took my cash, and I bolted back to the table that Mandi perched at, examining her face closely in her compact. Amanda had been by best friend since we were kids, and yet I was conscious of the fact that she always, always, always tried to push me out of my comfort zone when it came to talking to people. And when I say push, I mean shove.

Mandi looked at me above the mirror. “See? Now, that wasn’t as bad as you thought, was it? Say, ‘Yes, your highness, you were right, as usual.’” She winked at me and went back to searching her olive-skinned face for blemishes that weren’t actually there.

I scowled and handed her the cup.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so bent on finding me a boyfriend,” I muttered, taking a sip of my hot chocolate and narrowing my eyes. “It’s bad enough we have Fitch around, why introduce another testosterone-filled meatbag?”

“Charlie, you have such a way with words.”

Though Mandi’s intentions came from a generous place in her heart, her determination to get me laid was bordering on creepy. She had even convinced our best friend, Fitch, to travel all the way to New York with us so that we could afford the rent. The poor guy would do anything for Mandi, though – he’s been in love with her since the third grade.

I rolled my eyes in response, but declined to say anything.

After a few minutes more of chatting, the small television in the corner of the coffee shop was alight with news. Some customers clamored for the barista to turn the volume up, and she did, brushing her unkempt brown hair out of her face and looking like she hated her job.

“Breaking News this morning!” a reporter announced stiffly into the camera, obviously reading off of a teleprompter and sporting too much makeup for a grown man. “It has come to our attention that there has been another mysterious attack last night, this time, the victim is a 35-year-old mother of two on her way home from work. Found in an alley in the west part of town, it is believed to the work of Jack the Reaper, yet again…”

At this, I tuned out. There had been a string of unexplained homicides in the area recently and many people were on edge. The news had taken to calling him “Jack the Reaper”, a combination of Mr. Ripper and the Grim Reaper himself, because he had already claimed 4 victims in about 2 months, one of which was a 10-year-old boy. As tragic as that was, it was the only story I had heard about in a solid 8 weeks. I knew all there was to know about the case – and that was almost nothing at all. No leads, no apparent cause of death, not even a connection between the victims other than the fact that they were in New York at the time and most often found in dark alleys.

I sighed and stared down at my cocoa. “Is there anything else on?”

Mandi perked up, giving her full attention to the broadcast. “Shh!”

Her life’s goal was to become a criminal lawyer – hence her fascination with crime, both real and fictional. Our DVR has way too many episodes of CSI stored up.

I rolled my eyes again and looked up just in time to see Fitch come through the door. I waved and he smiled, shaking off his coat from the rain that was pouring outside. His dark brown hair dripped across his forehead, soaked through, framing his bright blue eyes that sparkled when he recognized Mandi and me. He trotted over, rubbing his paint-stained hands together for warmth.

“Fitch!” Mandi smiled, briefly talking her attention away from the television before becoming completely engrossed in it again.

He smiled and nodded in her direction, taking a seat in between us. “Hey, guys. Been hiding out from the rain, Charlie?” He winked.

I pursed my lips. “I am perfectly fine with the rain,” I lied.

Fitch gave me an incredulous look. I stuck out my tongue at him.

“What about you?” I asked, taking a sip of my drink. “Spend the whole day at the gallery again?”

He smiled happily. Fitch was an incredible artist for someone of his age. He’s super talented, but he’s only gotten a few of his works in a gallery in Brooklyn for now. He spends most of his time in a really high-end one a few blocks from our apartment in hopes of one day getting his work shown there.

“As always.” He looked around the shop. “Wow, does no one appreciate a little New York acid rain like I do?”

Mandi smirked. “They’re not all from Southern California like we are,” she reminded him, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck. “If I recall, you hated it back home when it ruined your surfing day.”

Fitch scoffed. “If only that was all I had to worry about now.”

I heard a soft ping come from my pocket. I checked the text – my boss wanted me to come into work for the night. Apparently people still go out to drink on rainy Saturday nights. I sighed, gathered up my stuff, and prepared to bartend for another six hours. I was disappointed – I had planned on sitting at home and taking a nice long bubble bath.

“I have to go,” I muttered, grabbing my things and heading out. My friends both said their good-byes and see-you-at-homes. I braced myself against the oncoming rain and stomped toward the subway entrance, hoping I could catch the 6:40 train. I scowled – it was 6:37.

As I walked, I caught the eyes of some other people walking by. It was strange, to me. It occurred to me then that each of these people had their own lives – people were born, died, graduated, fell in love, all within their own little life, and for just one second, we were part of each other’s’ lives.

I felt a chill creep up my spine.

I just hoped no one could feel what I was feeling at the moment – incredibly, completely alone.