Firmly Grounded

Grim Reaper appeared in the grassy area in time to see several gutbags run away screaming for help. They looked to be in high school, so whoever died here must have been with them. How marvelous.

He sensed he had about ten minutes before the cops showed up to investigate the supposed crime scene. His visit had to be a quick one; he didn’t like being around gutbags all that much, mostly because they were too loud, as opposed to the quiet dead.

Gripping the scythe that never left his side, Grim walked in the area. His bones clattered at every move he made like always. The last time he came here, the open area was a baseball field for the gutbags who couldn’t entertain themselves with electronic devices because they weren’t invented yet.

He kept moving until he found what he was looking for. A spirit kneeling next to the body, staring at it in wonder. If it wasn’t for the spirit shimmering every so often, Grim wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference, besides the obvious.

The victim was a fifteen-year-old boy, with a sports jersey of some team Grim couldn’t care less to know and a pair of cameo pants. He wasn’t wearing anything on his feet, which was a bit unusual, considering the surroundings.

There was something Grim noticed with dread. While the body had messy brown hair, the spirit’s hair was albino-white. Spirits didn’t have white hair, unless…

Grim would have to have the same conversation with the former boy as the one with the last spirit who was here many years before.

He stood next to the spirit, waiting for him to look up. When he didn’t, Grim used his scythe to stomp the ground. The spirit finally jerked his head up. And then toppled over in shock.

“What the hell?!” the spirit exclaimed. He crawled away from Grim before realizing that, no; he wasn’t interested in whatever was on his mind. “Uh, you wanna tell me who you are?”

If Grim had a face, he’d be raising an eyebrow. Was the spirit that stupid to not know who he was? “I believe you have heard of me at some point in your life,” he answered, nonetheless.

The spirit cocked his head to the side. A full moment passed before his eyes widened. “Wait, you’re Death?” he asked, incredulous.

Grim gritted his teeth. “Death is a part of a life cycle. I am clearly a being of some sort.”

Now the spirit was scratching his head. “I don’t get it,” he said dumbly.

“How would you feel if someone called you Puberty instead of Cameron?”

“Oh.” If there was a lightbulb that flickered on in Cameron’s head just now, it wouldn’t be a bright one. He became suspicious. “How’d you know my name?”

Grim swore the dead were getting dumber and dumber as time went on. “It is part of my job to know who you are.”

Cameron didn’t seem to think about that before now. “So, are you here to take me to the other side?”

Grim’s back straightened underneath his robes. “That is what I came to talk to you about.” With the snap of his bony fingers, he made a chair appear. He promptly sat down. “So, Cameron, how do you think you died?”

Cameron was in awe at the chair-appearing trick before snapping into it. “Oh, uh, it started last week when my history teacher assigned my class a video project about the Civil War. Me and my friends were grouped together, and we wanted to do our project here. So, we came here and set up everything we needed for –”

“Get to the point,” Grim interrupted Cameron. “Just because we’re not living doesn’t mean we have all the time in the world.”

“Oh.” Cameron was disappointed. “Well, Matt thought it’d be a good idea to start telling us scary stories, complete with effects. One of the stories he told had something to do with cold air. While he was blowing air behind me, I felt cold all of the sudden. And then I was in pain, the kind where I couldn’t move. I blinked, and all of the sudden I’m next to my body and my friends all ran away.”

He looked at his body. “Hey, do ya think we should go now?” he asked Grim. “My corpse is starting to freak me out, like it’s gonna become a zombie soon.”

Grim shook his head. “I am not here to collect you,” he informed the spirit. “I am here to tell you I cannot take you to the other side.”

To Grim’s surprise, Cameron laughed hysterically. He even grabbed at his sides as he chortled. “Th-that’s a good joke,” Cameron sputtered. “But for real –”

“There is no joke said here, Cameron,” Grim said calmly. The spirit stopped laughing. “I cannot take you now, and not for a long time.”

Cameron was still in denial. “But that’s your job. Why can’t you take me like with all the other souls you took?”

Grim stared at him with dead eyes. “The paralyzing pain you felt?” he brought up. “And the chills before that?”

“What about it?”

There was no delicate way to say it, it seemed to be the case for Grim. “You encountered a ghost moments before your death,” he explained. “And he transferred the curse from him to you.”

Cameron straightened up. “Curse?” he echoed. “What kind of curse are you talking about? And what do you mean, ‘transferred’?”

Grim pulled out a pocket watch and looked at the time. He had four minutes left to talk to the spirit. “For a long time, a curse had been set in this area,” he said. “At first, the curse only affected the crops that grew here. Every seed planted here failed to grow into something the villagers could eat. But someone died here, and once his spirit rose from his gutba--er, body, the curse went from affecting the crops to only affecting him.”

Cameron raised a hand. “Couldn’t he just break the curse?”

Grim was annoyed by the question. “The ‘curses’ you’ve heard about are lies. Most curses cannot be broken. The only thing they can do is to be passed on.”

While Cameron looked like his mind broke, Grim continued. “Since that day, he had been tied to the area. When a hundred years passed, he was given an opportunity to pass on the curse to another person. Once he accepted, the curse transferred, the person died, and the spirit then roamed for a hundred years until he was given an opportunity to pass on the curse to the next person. It has been going on for many centuries, and now you have been tied here.”

Cameron stared at Grim, his jaw hanging open. “And I’m stuck here for the next hundred years? There’s no way I can get out of it early?”

Grim shook his head. “What has been done cannot be changed,” he said. He heard police sirens. He waited a beat before confirming that the sirens were getting closer to the area. It was his cue to leave.

“Well,” Grim said, standing up. The chair disappeared with a wave of his hand. “I wish you luck, Cameron. I will see you when the time comes.”

Grim turned to leave.

“Wait!” Cameron called out, stopping Grim. “Can’t you stay here a little longer?”

He shook his head. “I cannot.” In seconds, Grim disappeared in time for the police cars to arrive at the scene.

____

Grim appeared in a dark place. The only light came from the spirit in front of him. He was young man, probably nineteen, with some black stubble on his think cheeks. He wore a straw hat, which he removed once he saw Grim.

They were both quiet. Grim spoke first. “Long time, no see.”

The spirit smiled sadly. “Could say the same to you,” he said. Gripping his hat tighter, he commented, “Been waitin’ a long time to cross over.”

Grim held out a hand. The spirit took it. “You are not the first to say that.”

As they walked toward somewhere only Grim knew, the spirit asked, “Do you think he knows I didn’t want to pass the curse to him?”

There was a long silence. “He will, in due time.”