I'm a Reaper, Right?Mature

Name: Alex Year of Death: 2014 Total Reaps: 0 Place of Residence: Apartment Day Job: Unemployed ****

I decided to head out to get dinner, like that old man - Ellis? - had offered to cover via credit card. At first glance it was painfully obvious that it wasn't his. Probably one of his 'reaps.' Well, that was a funny word to be saying. Reap. 

I shook my head. No use in fretting over the small stuff. Might as well just figure things out then. 

Taking my little Reaper Book - a name I thought fit the book better - with me, I left the apartment and headed off into the afternoon. It wasn't hard to find a restaurant and grab some food. The only issue was that I wasn't really hungry. I tried to eat the burger and fries that I had ordered but I only managed to finish half of both. Odd, but I just shrugged it off and left. 

I didn't return to the apartment right away. Instead, I just took a walk. I had things to piece together and others to figure out. First off, I apparently needed a new name. Well, not really. Alex was a popular name. And my reflection looked like I had changed into a 25 year old guy with black hair and stuff. Nothing like me. So, the others could get over that part.

Secondly, how long would it take to get my one hundred reaps? Should I just enjoy this? I mean, being alive again without the ability to die was pretty sweet. I could do a lot of things I had never done before. Like extreme sports. Or something. 

'Well, I'd need money first...' Damn. 

Well, in any case, I just needed to focus on becoming stable enough to do what I wanted. Should I tell my friends what happened? No, that was stupid. If I could do that then the 'reapers' would have been exposed long ago. They must have a way to stop us from contacting anyone we once knew. 

I strolled past an old antique store and idly looked in. There was a lot of old tools and stuff. It was only a mere moment before my eyes rested on the one object I actually found interesting. 

You know how life has that funny way of being ironic at the oddest times? Well, I had just found out I was dead and couldn't die again, as well as being told I could use a weapon for my 'reaps.' 

And I had just spotted a scythe from the old days. 

I looked up and down the little back street. I never really was one for shoplifting, though I had stolen a soda once. I knew all the little trade secrets, though. I also was confident that this particular old store lacked security cameras. So, I pulled my credit card and began to work the lock, watching both sides of the street as I did so. 

It came easily enough, to my surprise. So, I slipped in the antique shop and walked to where I had seen the scythe. It was hung up on the wall with a 'DO NOT TOUCH' sign. From the looks of it, it had been well-kept and the wood was good and sturdy. Not even a sign of rust like I had expected. 

So, I took the scythe and walked out of the store, careful not to be seen. 

There should have been a thrill from doing something like that, but I couldn't feel anything at the moment. All I could do was head back to the apartment and check myself out in the mirror. I probably looked like some sort of psycho or something but what did it matter if-

I froze in front of the bathroom mirror. 

In my hand I held the scythe, sure enough, but in the mirror I held nothing. In fact, I had a relaxing posture and didn't even look like I was holding anything. Was this the way others saw us? Is this how they could use weapons? 

Well, it certainly was interesting. 

I decided to sleep then. I didn't dare use the bed. God only knew what had happened in there. Wait, God? Did he exist? Well, it's not like I even cared. Sleep. Couch. That's all I wanted. So I put my scythe on the ground next to me and laid down. 

"I'm going to carry my scythe everywhere," I said to myself. "Maybe I should get a black cloak too..." 

It wasn't long before I fell asleep.

The End

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