Old DaysMature

Name: Frederick Newland
Year of Death: 2013
Total Reaps: 18
Place of Residence: Seattle University
Day Job: Conman


"Are you always smoking?" Beatrice asked me.

"Pretty much, it's not like Cancer's any risk any more." I said as I prepared the food, dipping the chicken breasts from one bowl to the next, from flour to eggs then to bread crumbs, while she cleaned the fiddlehead ferns. "You never smoked?"

"I didn't." 

"Well, I've been doing it since I was like twelve." I smirked, my lips deformed by the cig I held in them.

"What's funny?"

"I dunno." I said with a shrug. "I guess thinking about it, it's weird that I started smoking to be cool, but I continued to be with my dad. T'was like the only moment we didn't argue, when we both stepped outside and grilled a few, especially in the last days."

I took the now crumbs-coated breasts to the stove, grilling them in a pan with olive oil while watching the pasta and sauce that were cooking in pots.

"Can you set the table, love?" I asked. 

She nodded and took the covers we'd gotten, setting them. While the apartment had all the furnishing included, all the drawers and cupboards were empty. 

"Can I ask you something, Ellis?"

"Call me Frederick or Rick. You can use my name when we're in private."

"Alright, Frederick, how is it being a reaper, I mean... How do we get by?"

"Up until now, lonely. You can't really bond with people when you can't explain your situation. It's hard to hold a job when you could be called at any time for a reaping. Sometimes when there's a natural disaster or a huge accident, a few of us converge on the same place that was when most of our interaction happened. We mostly go through with credit card frauds, squatting, identity theft. Some hate the job and want to be over with it, other love it. Although I've heard that if you purposefully screw a job, it gets bad. Say, do you see Charlotte anywhere?"

"I think she's on the balcony."

"Oh well." I said putting the chicken in the oven with the parmesan and a spoonful of sauce to finish cooking. "For a moment, I was worried she'd also decided to skip on us." When it was ready, I began serving the food, I wasn't going to wait for people who'd ditched us, they'd eat cold, goddess or not.

Cole finally came back in, sitting down at the table. "Chicken Parmigiana served with tomato pancetta spaghetti along with fiddlehead ferns." I announced, serving them their plates before sitting down with them.

"This is good!" Beatrice exclaimed. 

"I hope so, I didn't go to culinary school for eighteen months for nothing."

"You went to culinary school?" Charlotte asked, seeming surprised.

"Yeah, I had a life once. before becoming a scoundrel." I said with a chuckle. "It didn't work out though."

We chatted for a while, sharing stories of our reap as she had quite a lot of experience under her belt. The strangest reap I had ever conducted was in the middle of a Furry convention, having to find the right man in a sea of costumed people. She was retelling her story of Piano fall death when the others came back in.

"I'm honored to see you two decided to grace us with your presence." I declared when they did. From across the table, I heard Charlotte mutter something under her breath that was probably unflattering.

The End

144 comments about this story Feed