It Tolls for Thee: A Short Story by D.

Cygan

For Whom the Bell Tolls
The sky showed a recent session of rain, as the hospital continued its daily work. Patients came
in with little to major problems and more doctors and nurses walked about, continuing their daily
rounds. Winchester hospital had nothing worth of huge note, recently, or timely. There were no major
accidents, lawsuits, or questioning of ethical decisions made in part by a doctor who was a joyous rebel
against the current status quo. It would seem that Winchester hospital housed nothing more odd than
what any other hospital would possess that is except for one room. In one, very defined room, there
was a conversation happening between two figures. The window in the room casted little light on the
conversation between the two, as silence sat uncomfortably in the room before one figure spoke.
How long did it take for you notice me? asked the figure sitting across the room.
An elderly man was resting in his bed when he heard the figure speak. He shifted away a few
wires and tubes to sit up in the bed to find out where the voice had come from. The old mans eyes
squinted, as an old angry flame rose in him. He spoke to the figure in a groggy voice, Who wouldnt
with that god damn smell?
The figure in the chair sat quietly for a moment, until he reached within his breast pocket. He
then pulled out a small black book in his left hand and a black pen in his right. The man opened the small
book, scanning through its pages, looking for something. When he finally found his page, he wrote
something within the little book. He looked up at the old man in the hospital bed, I like to think that I
have a healthy hygiene habit, but I guess you cant always scrub out every little thing, right?
The elderly man turned his head to unstiffen it, what in Gods name do you want?
Did I ever tell you how hard this job can get? the figure asked, as he went over to the window
in the room.
The harder the better, the old man scowled.
Dont tell me these years have made you so damn bitter, the figure replied, turning his back to
the window and folding his arms.
The old man looked up to the ceiling, you only see me when you want something. Tell me what
you want, or go bother another pet of yours.
The figure referred back to his book, thirty years is quite a long time for someone like you, but
to me, thirty years and thirty seconds are about the same. Ive been doing this job for a lot longer, but
even I can get tired and lonely. Ive spent a lotta nights with just myself and the corpse of another
crackhead, or junkie that didnt straighten out their shit when they got the chance. And in those nights,
Ive thought about quitting this whole routine and maybe should just take up a different hobby, but
thats not how this works. To save you a few minutes of your precious life, Im need of a prodigy a
replacement, if you will.
The old man laughed dryly, followed by a series of erratic coughs, and what the hell does this
have to do with me?
I need a referral, the man replied, clicking his pen, ready to write down a name.
Refer yourself to hell, the old man said, spitting in the figures direction.
The figure replied back with a smile and walked over to the edge of the bed. He leaned closely
to the old man, all I want is a little name, thats all.
The old mans eyes communicated a quiet hatred to that statement.
You know, it would be quite the shame, the figure spoke.
Quite the shame for what? the old man replied.
Quite the shame if your heart, the figure gestured down to his book, were to suddenly stop
for a few minutes. And possibly within those few minutes, your family would get a frantic call telling
them to quickly come to the hospital as their great, great grandfather was breathing his last few
breaths and it would be quite a shame if they happen to get into a very bad vehicle accident along the
way.
The old mans eyes widened in fear. He could see that the figures face was not holding a lie. The
old man then looked over to the window, as rain began to fall once more. Tears were coming to his
eyes, but he held them in as he spoke, I wish you would just burn.
Well have our time, but right now, I need a name, the figure said, as he prepared his pen.
Im so sorry, the elderly man whispered faintly, Abigail her name is Abigail
The figure wrote down the name in his book. The name began to shift in the black ink, as
information about the woman suddenly appeared within it. Carter? he stated.
The old man nodded slowly.
The figure then flipped to an entirely different page, as he wrote down another name and
crossed it out. The old man noted this, as he spoke up, Can you tell me when?
About a week, give or take a few hours, the figure stated, just as he walked over to the
window once more.
A hundred and twenty years is a long time to think, aint it? the old man asked, looking
straight ahead.
Its a long time if time applies to a man. If it doesnt, its only another lost memory to the
wind, the figure remarked, following the raindrops with his eyes.
Give a man ten years and hell consider it. Give em twenty years and hell think about it the
elderly man said before trailing off.
Give him thirty and hell never want to see death again, the figure suddenly vanished in a
thick, black smoke. The old man turned back toward the window, noting every little drop of rain. He
shifted his body away from the window, as the tears from before began to breach the surface of his
eyes. His body began a slight shake, as the feeling of dread and sadness took its toll on him.
God forgive me oh, God forgive me Im sorry Abi forgive me , his voiced trailed off,
being smuggled out by watery tears rolling down his face.
Part One: A friendly Introduction to Death
The dark prowling streets slithered as the figure made his way to Abigails home. He remained
invisible to the living world, rarely ever touching the living. His shadow would be the only visible sign of
his existence in reality. His existence was only that of only fading in and out of the world of the living.
The man observes the daily activities of many people. These people range from the well natured, to the
cruelest, from the rich, to the poor, and from the holy to the unholy. All of these people would soon
meet the face of the end, for it was the figures cowl that would haunt the memories of the dead. The
figure slithered, flew, crawled, and walked to Abigails home outside a large city. He saw it fit that he
had to find a way to test the girl, to make sure that she would be a prime candidate to replace him.
Observing from a small perch outside Abigails room, he noticed a very small singing bird in a
silver cage. The bird was fairly young and was most likely in the prime of its life. The small singing bird
had brown feathers with a shade of red overlaying the wings. His plan would be rather simple. A cat, or
perhaps a very hungry crow, would just so happen to notice the little bird in its cage, but how
unfortunate would it be if the cage were to suddenly fly open and the small bird would meet its end in
the claws, or beak of the hungry predator. Waiting until Abigail left the room, the figure changed his
shape into that of a raven. In this form, he still retained his intelligence and could quickly adapt to his
new body. He flew in and unlocked the cage with his small talons. The small bird in the cage scrambled
and fluttered for its life, but it would prove useless against the smart raven. The singing bird in his
talons, he flew back over to the open window, just as Abigail reentered the room. For only a few
seconds did her eyes meet with that of the raven. The raven quickly crushed the small bird in his talons
and ripped apart the body with its beak. Abigail quickly ran over with a hairbrush in hand to try to kill
the raven, but proved unsuccessful. He quickly flew out of the window, taking the form of a small, silent
rat climbing down the window sill.
Abigail looked down at the torn corpse of her once beautiful songbird. She gathered a small
kitchen towel, wrapped the remains, and put it into a shoebox that she had in her closet. All the while,
the figure watched her closely, analyzing each step she took to mourn for the young creature. Abigail
then took the small cardboard coffin to a recently broken patch of dirt in her backyard. She dug a small
hole for the little songbird and covered it, gently padding the surface. Abigail rose above the small grave,
giving a defeated sigh. She looked up towards the sky before going back into her home.
Interesting she might just work, the figure said to himself, thinking about the choice of
Abigail to replace him, Ill need to train a few things in and out of her, but shell work shell work
perfectly.
The figure then decided to meet Abigail later that evening. It was around three in the morning
when Abigail woke suddenly to a noise in her living room. Still in a space of sleep and dreaming, she
slowly made her way downstairs to the room where the noise had come from. When she reached the
living room, she found a very dark room, with the only light coming from a sliding door leading to the
backyard outside. She rubbed her eyes to clear her vision when she noticed a slight movement in the
shadows.
Is someone there? she asked the shadows.
Yes, the figure replied back to Abigail.
Abigail, understandably shocked, responds with a quick movement to hold up a near by lamp,
How the hell did you get in here?!
A little birdy told me that windows should be locked never fully open, the figure responded.
Little birdy? The hell are you talking about? Abigail responded in anger.
The same little birdy that unfortunately met a gruesome end I really am sorry to hear that.
How did you how did you know that?
Simple, at this moment youre dreaming. I am a representation of your real thoughts, the
figure responded, almost casually.
My real thoughts? I no, I dont believe you, Abigail trailed off.
Dont take my word for it, take this little guys, a small singing bird appeared on the dark
shoulder of the figure. Its features remained completely shrouded, but none the less did it sound like
the exact same bird from before.
How did you, Abigail said, perplexed by the sounds.
A dream holds no bounds, neither in life, nor death, the figure remarked.
Abigail took a seat across from the shadowy figure in her living room, asking, so, what exactly
do you want with me?
The figure leaned back, easily, entertain this thought for a while, itll get things moving much
quicker. I am not exactly a man of this world, nor am I a man of life itself. I am a shadow that is never
seen. I am a chill that is always felt. I am the end to all and all of the end. I give life a value, as I take it
away. I am mans oldest fear and greatest enemy. I am the taker, the end, the thief of life I am death
but you can call me Grim.
Abigail, confused, responds, you mean to tell me that you are death?
Thats what Ive been called, but it tends to vary from person to person. Usually people
respond with Satan, Lucifer, or untypically Asshole in the way of the T.V. , Grim responded.
Where exactly do I factor into any of this? Abigail asked, leaning back in her chair.
Im in need of a replacement. The job tends to bare down on your for a couple hundred
maybe thousand years. Retirement benefits are nothing special, but Im not looking for an employee.
Im looking for someone who can take the ropes and do it better than I did, catch the idea? Grim
explained.
Why me? Abigail asked.
You got a nice heart, Grim responded simply.
Thats it? A nice heart?
Compared to what Ive seen recently, a nice heart is just enough to describe someone like you.
Simple, but a nice heart.
Ive never been described as simple.
And Ive never been described as a people person, Grim responded to Abigail, standing up.
If I went along with this, and that being a big if, what would I have to do? Abigail asked in
curiosity.
Everything Im about to show you is going test your view of how and why people die. Theres
some humor in it, but funerals arent exactly the same as comedy clubs, Grim continued on, lighting a
cigarette, there are five ways in which I view death, or rather five categories, if you will. If youre
willing, and that being a big if, I can show them all to you. What do ya say? Hang out with the reaper for
a few hours, or go back to burying birds in a garden?
Abigail looked down at her knees, thinking about the offer. A large part of her mind accepted
that this was, more than likely, a dream, but a small ounce of doubt could not leave her mind. It lingered
in her frontal lobe, like an immovable boulder. The doubt told her that the offer was quite real and that
she was talking to a being higher than any human on Earth. She looked over to the blackened face of the
hooded figure in her living room. She could make that he was wearing a jacket, with a hood, dark pants,
and black shoes. For all intents and purposes, Grim looked almost homeless, but still carried a strange
sense of wonder within him. Abigail stood to match Grims stance and held out her hand for a
handshake. Grim accepted it, warmly.
Since this is all a dream, what do I have to lose? Abigail stated blatantly.
Only as much as youre willing to know, Grim said, before vanishing once again into a thick
fog.
Part Two: Death of a clown
The next morning proved a bit of a daze for Abi. She couldnt remember how she got back to
bed the night before, but could remember the exact details of what had happened. She could remember
talking to Grim, late at night, and agreeing to some sort of proposition he gave to her. Abi rubbed her
eyes, getting out of bed and heading downstairs to the kitchen for a small bowl of cereal. Reaching for
the box and turning around, she jumped in surprise. Grim was sitting at the counter with a newspaper in
one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
Morning there sunshine, Grim said, scanning through the paper.
Am am I still dreaming? she asked, pinching herself to confirm her statement.
Grim took a sip of coffee, either way, this coffee is to die for.
Abi shook her head at Grims purposeful pun. She made herself a bowl of cereal and tried to eat
it as normal as she could. Sitting in the same kitchen with Grim was something surreal in its own right.
Abi thought about how her mind would had to have been quite dark to create such a character. She took
quick glances at Grim as he continued reading the paper. Grim looked the same as he did the night
before. Black shoes, dark jean pants, and a black jacket. His hood stayed on his head, never seemingly to
move an inch, or two. Abi broke the small silence between them.
Why do you wear the hood? she asked Grim.
Grim looked over towards Abi, "can you tell if Im black or white?
Abi peered closely into Grims face. She couldnt tell what race Grim was, or hardly any facial
features. Grims white eyes were the only thing she could recognize, but his face remained blurred in
shadow, even when he was directly in sunlight.
Its better this way. Would people believe you if you said death was some white guy in jeans?
Grim said, jokingly.
Abi thought about his statement and laughed for a couple of seconds at it, I didnt know you
had a sense of humor.
Grim took another sip of coffee, course I do. If I didnt, Id go insane.
Abi took a bite of cereal before asking again, what exactly did you want to show me last night?
Grim began to fold up his newspaper, weve quite a day. Lets burn some daylight! Suddenly,
Grim and Abi found themselves on a public sidewalk with people rushing around them. Abi, realizing she
had no pants on, quickly ran to a place of cover. Grim took notice of this.
Jesus! I dont have any pants on! Take me home! Abi said to Grim, harshly.
Grim disappeared and reappeared close to a second later with a pair of pants for Abigail, not
like they could see you anyway.
Abi took the pants and put them on quickly. She stared around the people passing on the
streets, why cant they see me?
Would you want to see me if you were walking down a street? Grim asked Abi.
What did you want to show me, aside from giving me a heart attack? Abi turned to Grim.
Him, Grim said, pointing to man walking down the street.
The man was wearing a checkered, black and white jacket with brown pants. He wore three gold
rings on his finger and had two gold teeth. His hair, black and stiffened, was slicked back and didnt
move an inch with the wind. The man carried a smug look on his face, satisfied from something he did
earlier. A team of workers were hauling a huge piano on a wire in an apartment building, three stories
above were the man was walking.
His name is Joe and Joe is an asshole, to put it lightly. He lives his life as a loan shark, breaking
peoples arms and legs to get out their debts with two hundred percent interest. He has five children,
none of which he has seen, all with 4 different women. The man lives on Social Security checks and the
money he takes from those in debt. Joe is hated by almost everyone he has ever been around and, to be
honest, Im not too fond of the guy either. Some called him cartoonish in his crooked ways, well, today a
cartoonish way to go might just suit him, Grim said, pointing up as he finished his last sentence.
The huge piano being suspended above was suddenly released, as it fell directly onto Joe below.
Joe was crushed and killed instantly.
Holy shit! Abi yelled, covering her mouth at the site.
Well, I thought it was funny, Grim said, before they were then transported to a different place.
Both were now in that of a zoo, near a chimpanzee exhibit. Abi, still surprised from the previous
death, was now confused as to why they were at a zoo.
How did is he going to be why are we at a zoo? Abi asked.
For Mrs. Botch of course, Grim stated, pointing to an elderly woman approaching the
chimpanzee exhibit. The elderly woman was carrying something long in her right hand. It was a double
barrel shotgun! The small woman continued her walk to the cage.
Jesus Christ! Someone should stop her! Abi said to Grim.
Grim, ignoring Abi, continued on , Mrs. Botch has a vendetta against Packy, the chimp. You see,
Packy didnt treat Mrs. Botch so nicely when she first visited the zoo earlier today. He threw his
disagreement at Mrs. Botch and some of it landed right on her. Mrs. Botch was quoted as saying, Why
you little fucking monkey! Im comin back for you!, in which she proceeded to return home and
retrieve her former husbands double barrel shotgun. As bad as this looks for Packy, I think the clean up
staff is doing one hell of a job.
Abi then noticed a banana peel lying front of the cage, just a few feet ahead of Mrs. Botchs
path. Abi quickly turned to Grim, but Grim simply stared on. Mrs. Botch, not seeing the peel, then
slipped and a loud bang ensued. Due to the specific way she was holding the gun, when Mrs. Botch fell,
the gun handle shifted in front of her chest and when the triggered was pulled, the kickback sent the
handle flying into her sternum, causing a rupture into her heart, killing her quickly. Abi and Grim walked
over to the now dead Mrs. Botch. Abi stared into the old womans eyes. The eyes held a sudden fear and
shock that Abi could recognize with. Abi turned away to break away from the frozen gaze of the old
womans eyes.
Why do you cry? Grim asked, still looking at the body.
A person just died in front of me, who wouldnt? Abi stated back.
Why cry at stupidity? Grim asked again, now turning to Abi.
Stupidity? A person is dead! How is that stupid? Abi defended.
Im not saying that every death is stupid, but not every death is tragic. Humor is something that
exists is almost all aspects of humanity, including death. Let me show you, Grim took Abis shoulder and
both were suddenly teleported to a funeral. To her surprise, Abi saw that the funeral was lively and
many people were smiling.
Why are they smiling? Isnt this a funeral? Abi asked Grim.
It is, but someone brought up a funny moment between a person and the departed. The joke
was strong enough to get everyone to laugh and now, they cant stop thinking about other memories
they had with the person that died. Humor is an infectious memory, but its a memory worth infecting,
Grim responded as both were then taken to a coffee shop.
Oh god, dont tell me someone is going to die at a coffee shop, Abi remarked to Grim.
No, but wouldnt that be funny? I want to tell you a little story about a person I talked to quite
a long time ago. I cant say how many years ago it was, but it was a quiet night in which I went to go visit
a stand-up comedian who was on his death bed. It was a long day and I decided to have a little fun with
the guy before he died, so, I made him a deal. I told him that if he would make me laugh that Id give
him one more year to live, and if he failed to do so, then Id take him as scheduled. He accepts my offer
and says, Knock Knock. I told him, Youre really trying to make death laugh with a knock knock joke?
He replies with, Nope, this is how, and proceeds to pull the plug keeping him alive and yells out, The
Aristocrats! He dies right on the spot, Grim told.
Abi laughed for a few seconds, but stopped, so, did he make you laugh?
Grim took out a cigarette, the next day a newspaper article went on about how he died in the
middle of the night for ten minutes and suddenly came back to life. When asked, jokingly, why death
didnt take him, he said Its because Im black.
Abis laughter roared back to life, as she could hardly contain it. She wiped away tears of
laughter when she noticed that they were suddenly back in her kitchen. Grim was sitting in the same
seat as that morning and she in hers. She asked Grim, slightly embarrassed when she said, am I a bad
person if I secretly want some people I dont like to die?
Grim smiled for a moment, instead of thinking of those thoughts with anger, think about them
with humor. People have those dark thoughts all the time, its natural.
Abi yawned as she looked at the clock in her kitchen, how did the whole day pass so fast?
Time to me is like breathing for you, I tend to forget about the next second as much as the last.
Youd better get some shuteye, tomorrow is where things get interesting, Grim vanished once more,
preparing for the trip into the next category of death.
Part Three: The Chosen and Lost
Abigail did not see Grim in her kitchen the next morning. In fact, she didnt see Grim throughout
a majority of the day. She seemed puzzled by this fact. She thought of how odd Grim wanted to show
her the first category of death in the morning so quickly, but now he seemed more like a distant
memory, forgetting about what he wanted to show her. Abi continued her day as usual, sensing clearly
that she was now wide awake and no longer dreaming. She went to her work as as a florist. Abi herself
didnt care much for most floral scents, but there was one flower in particular that she loved the scent
of more than anything. The flower grew on a tree outside the shop. When spring would arrive, the
sweet smell of wisteria would fill the air around the flower shop. When Abi caught the scent, it would
quickly relax her and would remind of her days she spent with her father. Her father enjoyed the smell
of wisteria, so much so that he would take Abigail under the trees and lay in the shade the trees
provided. Abi suddenly caught the scent later in the afternoon, but she was surprised. The smell was
strong enough to enter the shop. She looked towards the front door of the shop to find Grim, standing
there with a wisteria in hand.
Old memories just how I like them, said Grim, smelling the flower.
How did you wait, Im not dreaming, am I? Abigail said, almost frantically.
Did it you really take you this long to find out that this isnt a dream? Grim said, putting the
purple flower down.
Is this going to be the same as last time? Abi asked.
Grim stood still for a second, Ssomewhat. Grim took Abi by the arm and both were then
teleported outside an apartment building. The neighborhood around looked run downed, old, and had a
lawless feel to it. Grim entered the apartment building, as Abigail followed close behind. The hallways
reeked of urine, alcohol, and the subtle stench of sweat. Silence filled the entire building, which brought
an unsettling feel to it. Grim finally turned to a door and opened it with ease. Before letting Abigail
enter, he stretched his arm across her.
Wait here, said Grim entering the apartment first.
After a few minutes of uneasiness, Grim gestured for Abigail to enter the apartment. The small
apartment was littered with papers everywhere. The kitchen was filled with dirty dishes, clothes piled
onto floor, and hundreds of envelopes covered the small coffee table. Abi followed Grim into the main
bedroom, before finding herself overcome with an abrupt sickness. Grim stood in front of the body
before him and the revolver next to it. Blood covered the bed and walls as the body of a person laid on
the floor below. Abigail couldnt make out the gender of the person dead, but she found no reason to go
back into the room. Grim noticed her rush out of the apartment. He followed closely behind her, putting
something away in his pocket. He met her in the hallway.
You alright? Grim asked, putting his hand gently on her shoulder.
Abi shook her head in return. Grim then opened the door across from the one they were just in.
In there, through the doorway, Abigail could see the body of a very large person lying on the floor. Grim
knelt down next to the body, taking out his book from his breast pocket. He wrote something within it
and stood up to return to Abigail.
What happened to them? Abigail asked.
Two different people, same outcome, Grim responded.
How, Abigail continued, I didnt see any blood in there. How are they the same?
Grim took out his black book and answered, both committed suicide, but one of them took
more time to do it. One of them used a gun and the other used a lie.
Abigail looked at both apartments, how can you kill yourself with a lie?
They were told, by everyone, if they continue to live their life eating the way they were, they
would die, Grim pointed to the large bodys apartment, they chose not to listen and here they are,
dead of massive heart failure. I considered those people on the same level as them, Grim pointed to
the gun victims apartment, but its even worse. They knew damn well that if they didnt change their
lives, they wouldnt see fifty. Sad to say, but I can empathise more with the guy who blew his brains out.
His reason was because his wife shot herself and her kid. It wasnt even his kid, but still felt like he
needed be a father for him. The bills kept stacking, the debt kept piling up, and his mind began to die. By
the time he shot himself, he was just a shell of the man he once was.
All he needed was some help. Why didnt someone help him? Abigail asked, with a few tears
forming.
This is the essence of choice, but its also its greatest curse, Grim said, sorrowfully.
Before Abigail could wipe away the tears, she was transported to a public park where children
ran about. Abi wiped her tears away quickly, but her face suddenly turned white.
Grim oh God, Grim, please dont show me, Abi said, pleading with Grim.
Grim turned to her slowly. He pointed to a small boy on the playground. The boy was playing
with a little girl, both looking around the same age for each other. They giggled and laughed as they took
turns chasing each other across the sides of the jungle gym. The park began to fade as the little boy and
girl grew up into young preteens. The boy was walking with the young girl, laughing about something.
They stopped and sat down at a bench in the park. Both sat a small distance away from each other, but
soon grew closer, physically. The boy, shaking with nervousness, took hold of the girls hand. The young
girl, surprised, tightened her grip and looked into the boys eyes, smiling. More time passes as both are
suddenly at some sort of graduation celebration. They hug each other, closely, never letting go for
several minutes. Both finally let go and are alone with each other. The boy takes her hands once more
and the girl tightens hers once again. Their gazes meet and the girl closes her eyes. The young man, still
nervous, closes his, as leans in closely to her. Their lips meet as the memory fades again. They are in
each others arms as the girl prepares to go to college and the young man to some sort of military
program. The young man gives a kiss goodbye and leaves onto a bus waiting for him.
Grim please dont show me, Abigail broke in.
Keep watching, Grim says, keeping his eyes on the vision.
Flashes of the young man preparing himself in training appear. He learns how to fight in hand to
hand combat, builds his body, and trains his mind to prepare for war. No contact is made between the
two young lovers. The young man is now parachuting out of a huge plane into a raging warzone. Bullets
fly and zip past him as he lands onto the ground, rifle in hand. Orders are being shouted everywhere
around him and he tries to keep a stable mindset. He spots a wounded shoulder to his right ahead of
him. A photographer is behind, taking pictures of the warzone. The young soldier checks for the bullets
to die down before running over to his wounded friend. He applies basic, quick first aid, but an enemy
soldier throws a smoke grenade next to him. He cannot see through the thick smoke and tries pulling his
friend back, away from the enemys lines. An enemy soldier arises from the smoke, knife in hand, and
eyes ready to kill. The young man fights off the enemy, sitting on top of him. He takes the enemys knife
and continues to stab the enemy soldier dead. The photographer from behind snaps a quick photo of
the scene before the smoke clears around the young man. The young man sits in amazement and shock
of what he has done. Just then, a rogue bullet enters the young mans front temple, killing him instantly.
The memory begins to shift once more into that of a funeral being held for the young soldier. News
reports and articles ensue controversy from the picture taken. Many people are protesting outside
government buildings, calling the man a butcher and a man of massacre, while others call him a true
hero . Abigail and Grim were now standing over the grave with a small white cross.
What was he? Abigail asked, looking down at the grave.
Human in the end, he was human, Grim responded.
What category is this? Abi asked, turning to Grim.
I call them The Lost. People didnt know how to react to them when they died, so they
remained something else. This was Johnny. Johnny fell in love, once, and went to war. The country cant
tell if hes a hero for dying in combat, or if hes as guilty as the enemy he fought. The tragic thing is
hes not the only one, Grim pointed over the hill and around him. Thousands upon thousands of graves
surrounded them, it doesnt matter which war, or even why, its all the same result in the end.
Abigail fell to her knees, shocked by the number graves in front of her, there must be millions,
Grim.
Grim put his hand on her shoulder, memory is the true fountain of youth. Grim suddenly
vanished once more and Abigail found herself outside, next to the tree with a wisteria flower in her
hand.
Part Four: Without Guilt
The next day, Abigail felt unwell from last two meetings with Grim. She secluded herself inside
her home. She hardly ever left her couch and rarely ever turned away from the television. A cold chill
remained on her for some time. The chill came from her remembering the story of the young man,
Johnny. She wondered how the young girl in the story would have reacted to his death, but Grim did not
show her this. That feeling of unknowingness, coupled with the sadness of the story, controlled Abigail
for hours on end. Her mind spent pondering the emotions that the young girl most likely experienced
when she was told the news. The strongest emotion she could imagine was a surprising apathy, or
numbness. Grim appeared suddenly in the room.
How ya holdin up? Grim asked Abi.
I dont know, Abi answered, honestly.
I hope you know that all Ive showed you, is me being honest about our deal. I wont lie to you.
These are the realities of death, Grim said, walking towards Abigail, how about a nice walk?
Abi turned to look at Grim. She could sense a genuine feeling of caring coming from him, almost
fatherly. She nodded and grabbed a jacket to go outside.
They both proceeded to a park. It was night and the moon was a giant beam in the sky above.
They walked for a few minutes in silence, until Abigail broke in.
How long have you been around? she asked.
Im not exactly sure. Like I said, time to me isnt as important as it is to you, Grim replied.
Were you always like this, being you know, death? Abi asked.
There was one before me, Grim replied looking to the sky.
Who?
They had no name.
They? As in there were more than one?
No, they, as in they never spoke. They only showed me the categories and gave me a choice,
Grim looked over to his right, speaking of categories
Abigail turned to where he was looking. There was a loud commotion a few hundred feet from
them. Two men seemed to be arguing when one of them pulled out a gun and shot the other. The
shooter ran away and the other lay behind.
Oh my God, Abigail said to herself. She quickly ran over to the man on the ground. He was
bleeding through his chest, yet still conscious. Abi knelt next to the man and noticed something odd. The
man was looking directly into Abigails eyes. Abigail, noticing this, asked the man.
Can you see me? Abigail asked.
Yes yes I can, the man said, trying to calm his breathing.
Can you see him? Abigail said, pointing to Grim.
See who?, the mans voice began to trail off, along with his consciousness.
We gotta get him to a hospital! Abigail exclaimed.
Hes going to die either way- Grim tried to speak.
Just help me damnit! Abigail broke in before Grim could finish.
Grim gave only a slight nod when all three of them were suddenly teleported in front of a
hospital. Abigail used all of her strength to carry the man into the emergency room. Nurses and doctors
rushed all around, taking the many away. Abigail sat back, covered in blood. She was prepared to tell the
nurses what happened, but the nurses ran straight through her.
Hes been shot Hey! Hes been shot! Abigail shouted, but no one listened. She suddenly
found herself attracted to a specific room. She ran down different hallways, until she finally reached one
room. The room that attracted her was the morgue. She opened the doors to the cold room and found
Grim standing over a body on the table. She slowly walked over next to him. Abigail looked to the body
lying in front of her, catching her surprise and bringing back a chill in her spine. The body was that of a
small child.
I suppose this category doesnt need an introduction, nor does it need a description. Ill admit,
this was the one I turned away from when I first saw it. Ill never forget when I first stared into the eyes
of one of them. When a child dies, I dont believe its innocence that goes with them. Whats mourned is
the loss of what they could have done. Maybe this one could have grown up to find a cure for cancer,
but well never know, Grim said out loud, staring into the childs eyes.
Is there such thing as a soul? Abigail asked, sullenly.
Souls are alive, not dead, Grim responded.
Grim is there a God? Is there something beyond death, is there something we can look
forward to?! Abigail shouted, before a gaizer of tears finished her statement.
Grim stood quietly before responding, the next minute is what you should look forward to. God
is something, or someone, Ive never seen, therefore, I cannot tell you if there is one, but remember,
you couldnt see me before I let you. Only the dead can know what lies beyond. I am only the ferryman
who accepts the toll.
There just has to be something after this suffering, there has to be! Abigail exclaimed
through her tears.
Grim walked next to Abigail, putting his hands on her face. His hands felt smooth, but also numb
to her. He stared with his white eyes into hers before finally saying, if I have ever seen something that
transcends death, it is empathy. Empathy is what drives humanic passion to help and love. It is empathy
that death does not possess, but it is empathy that people possess for others that makes death
manageable. I know what humanity can destroy, but I also know what it can create.
But why why am I still scared? Abigail asked.
As a being that knows that it will eventually die, it is natural to fear it. That is an unfortunate
fact for humanity and I cant change that, because death is what gives life its greatest value. Not
everyone has a right to live, but everyone has a right to die, Grim said, calmly.
But even after all of this why go on ? Abigail asked Grim.
Life is not bad, or good, it is only a process. The memories you create are what matters in the
end. Uncertainty is what guides the strong and what kills the coward, Grim stood up, his hand held out
for Abigails, theres one more thing you need to see.
Part Five: The book, the pen, and the job
Abigail wiped away her tears and followed Grim to a room. The room, at first, was dark and
empty, but a ripple effect ensued as she was then standing in a sun filled room with an elderly man on a
hospital bed. There, she found a young man and a hooded figure on the other side of the room. The
young man went over to speak to the elderly man. Abigail couldnt make out exact features of the young
man, but both men seemed to have a past connection with each other. Grim stood next to Abigail,
witnessing the same picture. Grim sighed before he spoke, I had to speak to someone before I accepted
this job. I had to speak to myself on my death bed. What I heard and what I asked, is something I can
never forget. When you accept to become this, your life is not over. A sort of copy is made. One part
of yourself continues to live in the living world, while you reign over the world of death. A soul becomes
shared. For those like us, death is not the end but how I want it to be.
Is this the last one? Abigail asked, turning to Grim.
Grim turned to Abigail, as the room changed once more, go through the door and I will ask you
if you accept this. Abigail noticed the door in front of her. She hesitantly walked towards it, only looking
back once at Grim. He gave her a reassuring nod before she ventured into the next room. The door
closed behind her, as Grim went over to a window in the room.
I hope you burn in hell, you piece of shit! the unnoticed old man in the room shouted.
Keep your voice down, Michael, Grim said, looking out at the window.
You went after my daughter! Rot in hell! Fucking rot! the elderly man shouted again.
You tell me to rot? Youre the one who doesnt want to accept me. Need I remind you, youre
the one keeping us both here?! Grim yelled in response.
And you think my daughter is a person who deserves this?!
She deserves the truth!
She doesnt deserve to have you looming over her! Youre not her father!
No! Were her father! Why cant you just accept that? After over a hundred years and you still
cannot accept that?! Stop lying to her you old bastard! Grim shouted, while punching the window in
front of him. The window remained unbroken, as Grims fist flew through it. Both men sat in silence.
Their arguments had been made and said. The wind was the only thing to hear the two men shouting
and only the wind would be the judge of their merits. The door slowly opened, as Abigail walked in. Her
face seemed warmer and more full of life. Abigail looked towards her father on his bed. She walked over
to take his hand.
Hey, dad, how are you doing? she said in a calm, loving voice.
Im doin fine tiger, Im doin fine, the old man said calmly.
Dad I know that you didnt want Grim to speak with me but I needed it. I know that you love
me with all of your heart and I love you with all of mine, but you have to accept him, Abigail turned to
Grim, he wants to go but you need to accept him as a part of you.
Abi I , Michaels voice trailed off, looking at Grim, I just dont want you to become like us. I
dont want you to hate yourself for accepting this
Im not afraid Im not afraid anymore, dad, Abigail stated, as she gave her father a kiss on
the head. Grim walked over to her. He pulled out his little black book and his pen.
Take these. Open to a clean page and write down both of our names and then cross them out,
Grim said, handing over the small items.
Abigail looked down at the pen and book. In her hands, she held the omnipotent power of
death. Any name she wrote down, time could be given, and taken away. She asked before proceeding,
can I just stop death entirely?
No. You can prolong it, or cut it short, but it can never be stopped, Grim stated, moving over
by the window once more. Abigail opened the small book and found a clear page. She clicked the pen
and wrote down the name of her father and of Grims. She looked one more time at her father and
friend. She slowly stroke out their names.
Abi, are you sure about this? Michael asked one last time.
If it means anything, I liked speaking with you. It made me feel human, Grim stated, with
genuine kindness.
Im sure dad and thank you Grim, she ran over to give Grim a friendly hug goodbye, Im all
out of tears but know that Id shed a few for you.
I love you baby girl, Grim said finally, before fading from existence.
Abigails clothes suddenly changed into a full black attire. The same jacket that Grim wore was
now on her. She gave a last glance at her father, who now appeared to be peacefully sleeping, before
she left the hospital. Abigail was leaving the front of the hospital, when she noticed someone very
familiar in front of her. It was her other self, running towards the room with her father. She grabbed her
other selfs arm and said, meet me at St. Pauls church. Well talk then. The other Abigail nodded in
confirmation.
It Tolls for Thee
Rain clouds above covered the sun when Abigail entered the church. She walked to the front of
the pews and took a seat near the edge. There was no one else inside the church, except herself. She
looked around the giant church, remembering that is the place where was baptized as an infant. It was
the only place that she could remember at the moment when she spoke to her other self. She waited
there for a few minutes, until she could hear footsteps coming from behind her. She didnt bother to
look, she knew it was her other self. The other Abi sat down next to Abigail. An uncomfortable silence
was between them when the other Abigail broke in.
What exactly should I call you? she said.
Abi is fine, Abi responded back.
Why did you accept it? Abigail asked.
I feel happy. Out of all of this death and such I just feel happy now, Abi said, turning to
Abigail.
Why did you let his life end? Are you not human anymore?
Death is something that gives life its value. Without it, we live a meaningless existence of
chemical reactions and such. The beginning should determine the ending, not the ending determine the
beginning. I just want you to live your life without fear and dont become your worst fear, itll consume
you. Thats what happened with dad, Abi stated, looking towards the giant crucifix ahead of her.
Abigail sat in silence, before eventually leaving Abi by herself. Abi continued to stare at the
crucifix, eventually getting up and praying one last time. Abi stood in front of the massive church,
covering her head with the signature hood and taking out her black book. She flipped through the book
and then placed it back into her breast pocket. She felt around in her jacket pockets, until uncovering a
small note. The note read: For Whom the Bell Tolls. Abi looked up towards the church bell beginning to
ring. She looked back down at the note and said, It tolls for thee.