New chapter.
CHAPTER SEVEN:
Thwarted Relaxation
Death, meanwhile, whas unaware that he was being sought out by the RAFians or watched by the green-clad individual. But this was mostly because of willful ignorance, as Death has an omnipresence unmatched by any being, except possibly one other, assuming thst it even existed.
But apparently it was like the ringer on a cellphone and could be turned off, as Death had evidently done.
He still hadn't caught a fish. These ones seemed too intelligent, and none too suicidal. And, try as he might, Death could not stop himself from grousing on the injustices of his job, wallowing in his self-pity. This was really too much --
far too much -- responsibility for one being to shoulder . . . even if he had the omnipresent ability to be everywhere at once.
Let someone
else do it for a change! Let someone
else get kicked around for once! Let someone
else take the slanderous abuse, the profane curses, the selfish indignity from the clients of the job! Let them
FINALLY understand then!!
Ever since the dawn of his existence, he had this job. And, until now, he had done it without complaint, without rancor. But millenia of ungrateful souls scapegoating
him for
their failings was absolutely
bound to wear down the toughest being, no matter
who they were!! Being Death was, without a doubt, the most
thankless job in the world.
He didn't even escort thrm to the afterlife! They didn't have to go onward -- wherever that was -- if they didn't want to! Yet he was blamed for their misfortune, just the
same!! He just released them, reduced the amount of suffering that they would have been forced to endure. He would have appreciated a simple "thank you" at least once a millenia or two, but no.
All he ever heard was denial. They believe that he made a mistake -- Death cannot make a mistake, as much as he wish he could -- or clean to the delusion that they were just dreaming or something of the like. This was the most common reaction he found. Whether they got over this or still clung to to their petty little delusions, he never could find out because he would inevitably be alerted to the "need" of another client. He suspected they either accepted it and moved on, or lingered as ghosts. Perhaps forming skme sort of spectral society -- perhaps one who clung to their delusions that they justified possession, which, despite what the movies would tell you, is not as easy as it seems -- but it didn't concern him if they did or not. It was their business, not his.
Or anger. This was more common than denial. The "Why me?!", the "It's not fair!!", the "How can this happen to me?!", the "This is
your fault!!", and the "Why would this happen?!" crowd. These were the most infuriating types. But they only pestered him for mere moments. He suspected that these spirit, if they did not go on, became poltergeists. He had no proof this, but, in retrospect, he really didn't want any.
Or bargaining. This was not common, but not unheard of. These were the more irritating ones. These were the ones that sought him out, hoping that he would make deals to return them to life. Deals of which, he had no interest in, even if he
had power to do that. He released them from their bodies, he did not return them. Why was that such a difficult concept to comprehend? He suspected that these were the thieves and con artists of the spirit world, but he did not know for sure. He could not help but notice that these people tended to be the people who, in life, were most afraid of him.
Or depressive sadness. These . . . oh, it made his heart ache just thinking of them. They just allow despair to overtake them. The lucky ones manage to go on. But the others . . . they because what ghost hunters call "residual hauntings". They lose their sense of self in their despair. Some of the really unlucky ones evaporate into mist. . . .
Then there were the ones who took the news quiet acceptance. These were a strange bunch, whose motives Death preferred to not consider. These were the people would lived fulfilling lives or people, who in life, . . . sought him out. Usually emotionally distraught and those who think and believe that they're doing the world a favor. By seeking his release.
He drew in his line. This clearly wasn't working. He needed to find a way to relax. As he did this, he thought of Melinoë. It was her job to manage all these spirits who refused to go on. He wondered why she was being so lax in it of late.
He shrugged, as he shouldered his fishing rod, and walked away from the pier.
