In honor of Halloween, here’s a spooky flash fiction piece I did a while back . It was inspired by something I saw, so I make a cameo appearance in it. It should probably disturb you that this is what I thought up after seeing someone standing in front of a house one morning.
He was early.
Usually his timing was impeccable, but today had just been one of those rare occasions where his appointments were not back to back, but were close enough to make it pointless to go home in between. He stood outside the house in the dusky morning waiting for just the right moment to meet the client. It was the recognition that he craved. The instant they knew him.
A runner jogged along the quiet suburban street and he searched his records, hoping her file was close. Female runners often provided deliciously gruesome appointments. Unfortunately, there was nothing on this one. He shrugged and strolled up the walkway, pulling his overcoat more closely around his chest. Earth was so cold. He missed the hooded robe he’d become so famous for, but he had to admit the overcoat and hat were much more practical given the lack of heat on this dreadful world. If everything went as planned, he should have just enough time to personally escort this fellow into the fiery depths before moving onto the next client. He could use the thaw.
It was almost time. He left the walkway, opting for the balcony where the man—an early riser—spent each morning drinking coffee and voyeurizing the neighborhood. He was hoping when the client saw him, he’d drop his mug and it would shatter. He had a soft spot for the dramatic.
Unfortunately, this client wasn’t particularly surprised. Such is death. They stared at each other and the client sighed, sunk into his vinyl chair, and nodded. The reaper sighed too. Perhaps the next appointment would be more entertaining.
He swooped in and took the soul. Hell’s brimstone awaited them both.