Writing for Fun
January 2020
Reapers Deal - Lynn Gale
A crash of thunder jolted him from a deep dreamless sleep. Justin sat up with a start. A movement caught his sleep filled eyes. Was he dreaming, was someone in his room? Yes, by the window, he could see the silhouette of a hooded figure leaning nonchalantly against the wall.
‘Who are you?’ Justin Van Missen demanded, ‘How dare you break into my home.’
And just how did they get in? On the twenty-sixth floor of Paragon tower, with an army of guards ensuring it’s nefarious residents had all the security money could buy.
‘Someone help me.’ His voice came out in a small squeak.
‘Justin, Justin no need to get upset,’ the figure’s voice deep and gravelly. ‘People call me the Reaper, I have come to collect what’s due.’
‘What are you talking about?’ spluttered Justin, ‘I don’t owe you anything!’
‘Au contraire Justin.’ The Reaper turned towards him, a flash of lightening lit up the room enabling Justin to see how tall the figure was and worse, the curved glinting blade of the scythe he was carrying.
Justin cowered back in his bed pulling the sheet up to his neck, his eyes widened as the figure with a skeleton’s face glided towards him, the scythe scraping across the baroque tiled floor.
‘Please don’t hurt me Mr Reaper,’ he begged, feeling invisible eyes boring into him.
Reaper rested his scythe against the wall and sat down on the end of the bed.
‘No need for such formalities,’ he said pulling out a large black book from beneath his robe. ‘Just call me Ted.’
Justin watched terrified as a long skeletal finger began flicking over the yellowed pages.
‘Van Misseg, Van Missel, ah there you are Van Missen, Justin, now lets see.’
The bed shifted as Ted settled himself into a more comfortable position.
‘It states here that you have committed every sin, that’s quite an achievement.’
‘That’s not true,’ Justin cried, his clenched white knuckles gripping the silk lilac sheet. ‘You must have the wrong man.’
Ted waved his bony finger at Justin.
‘Tut, tut, I am never wrong, I normally collect long before this but it seems a clerical error has allowed you to carry on.’
‘It’s all in my book, from pride to sloth You’ve covered them all.’ He shut the book with a loud snap, stood up and reached for his scythe. ‘Well, no time like the present.’
Justin screamed, ‘Wait please Mr Reaper … Ted.’
‘Surely there is something I can do to make amends?’
‘Hmm this is highly irregular,’ Ted halted the scythe in mid swing. ‘People normally die of fright when they catch sight of me, makes my job so much easier, but you, you are different, maybe there is a way to get redemption.’
‘Anything, I’ll do anything at all,’ Justin implored keeping his eyes fixedly on the blade.
Ted plonked himself down on the bed again, Justin grimaced as he pulled his legs out from under the Reaper’s bony posterior.
‘There are several individuals who have also exceeded their quota,’ Ted said slyly.
‘It would certainly help me out if I could collect before midnight tomorrow.’
‘I may even achieve the Reaper of the month award and get one over on that (I am the best) Reaper Bert.’
‘I’ll do it,’ Justin agreed nodding his head furiously, ‘just tell me how.’
Justin and Ted spent the rest of that stormy night thrashing out the finer points of a plan.
Before the first rays of the morning sun appeared on the horizon Ted vanished.
Justin clutched Ted’s to do list with trembling hands. ‘Can I really do this?’
He looked around his lavishly decorated penthouse abode, the original paintings, bespoke furniture and priceless antiques. Not to mention the wild parties with the rich, powerful and famous that he enjoyed so much.
‘Yes, it’s them or me, I’m not ready to give all this up yet.’
First on the list, Konrad Crumb CEO of Crumb’s Crackers, sold his factories in the work starved North-East to property developers making a tidy profit to add to his millions. After a short phone conversation, a guarantee of more money than he could ever need. Konrad agreed to meet Justin at his penthouse at eight that evening.
Crumb was followed by Matilda Norris who had made her fortune selling poor quality food parcels to developing countries. A promise of a shipment of outdated food at a bargain price, along with an all you can eat gourmet buffet, her time was nine.
Lester Lefaire (not his real name) who had never worked a day in his forty years, preferring to use his charm to con rich elderly widows. A blind date with a 90 year old millionairess at ten o’clock proved to irresistible to reject.
Then finally Bruno Barsi ex enforcer of the Petachelli family, offered a chance to gain revenge on the man who stopped his murderous activities, ‘eleven pm sharp,’ he was told.
Justin welcomed the victims warmly as they arrived at their allotted time.
‘Just hang your coats in here,’ he said opening the door to the bedroom and ushering them in pulling it closed behind them. What Justin heard behind that door would stay in his memory forever. Surprise, fear, begging, screaming then silence. In the case of Lester, it was hysterical laughter, he even managed to open the door his face showing sheer terror before a long skeletal hand dragged him back. By midnight the deal was done.
Justin took a deep breath before he entered the bedroom. Whatever went on in this room tonight, there was no evidence, everything was exactly where it should be. Ted was once again sitting on the bed, his black book spread open on his lap. ‘Just dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s.’ He laughed a deep booming hollow sound sending an icy chill down Justin’s spine.
‘Are we done,’ he asked nervously, ‘You promise you will never return?’
‘We are done, Justin.’ Ted put the book back into his robe. ‘I promise I won’t return.’
He stood up, collected his scythe and disappeared.
Justin let out a long sigh of relief, walked into the main room poured himself a large glass of the best malt whiskey and looked out over the panoramic view of the lights twinkling over the city.
‘How could I give all this up,’ he convinced himself as he finished his drink in one go.
The fierce thunderstorm woke Justin from a troubled sleep, he sat bolt upright, rivulets of sweat running down his face. ‘No, no …’ he screamed as the lightening revealed four Reapers standing around his bed.
They held their scythes in one hand and in the other, a list.