Chapter 3- No Rest For The Newly Dead
757 Words
Is there any other color than white here? It's beginning to be a little cliche. Abigail was leading me up yet another staircase on the way to my very own slice of heaven (a.k.a. my new room). We'd already climbed at least 15 of them and still had a long ways to go. Thankfully I no longer required breath but that didn't stop me from panting in exhaustion out of pure habit. We've not passed a single soul (Ha! I'm hilarious!) on our way up. Which seems odd to me given how far away my room is. Obviously there had to be many people around SOMEwhere. When I ask Abigail about this she turns, and informs me that absolutely everyone who lives here also works here. As such they were all out doing their respective jobs. I wonder what kinds of jobs there are. I've already seen that there's Grim Reapers like Abigail, and some sort of secretary like Perkins. There's many individuals who are here, what more could the afterlife have that it needs so many to run it? What's more, where do I fit in?
We finally reached the door marked 66887. I am far beyond exhausted and as I lost count of staircases somewhere around number 23, I am more than ready to lay down. Unfortunately for me that's not going to happen. As soon as Abigail shows me how to use my card to get in, I swing open the door and step into my new home. A home that is currently being occupied the biggest, and most gorgeous specimen that I have ever seen. My jaw drops as I get a good look at him. He stands- in what will be my living area- his feet shoulder width apart. His well defined arms are crossed over his massive torso. I think I see some edges of black ink on his bicep peeking out from under his white, loosely flowing shirt. My eyes continue to travel upwards as I take in his lightly chiseled features, his hard slanting lips, even his shockingly white hair that looks perfectly styled (of course). However the thing that arrested my attention were his eyes. They were such a light shade of blue that they almost looked like ice. Ice that was currently glaring daggers in my direction.
"You. Are. Late." His deep voice boomed across the small space, making the two of us cringe. "Not only are you extremely late with this particular soul, Abigail, but Perkins informs me that you are not even finished with your daily soul list!" Abigail shrinks, making herself smaller. He continues while taking a menacing step forward, crowding into us, "Need I remind you of the potential catastrophes that non reaped souls can commit?"
"N-no, sir."
"Then I suggest you get moving!" She turned to bolt, "One more thing Abigail." His face darkens and turns frightening, "If I hear that you are shirking your duties as a Grim Reaper one more time, I will demote you. Is that clear?"
Abigail squeaked out a quick, "Yes, Cassius, sir!" Then took off running down the stairs. Leaving me alone with Mister Happy. He turns to me, piercing me with those frosty blues, "Magdaline Haynes, correct?"
"Umm, yes?"
"You will report to my office first thing in the morning for your new assignment. Are we clear?"
"O- okay."
"Okay?" He glares at me. I don't know why but that glare of his makes me want to tease him a little.
I salute him, "Yes, sir Casper sir!"
His snowy white brows drawn down and his forehead wrinkles in confusion. "Did- did you just make fun of me?"
I continue to salute him, doing my best to be a good soldier. "No, sir, your royal ghostly-ness, sir!" I swear I see his lips twitch into a smile, but it was gone so fast that I must have imagined it.
"Miss Haynes, I-"
BOOM!
The ground beneath my feet quakes, rocking and rolling. I loose my balance, but just before i plant face first, I'm caught by two large hands to my shoulders steadying me. His cool gaze sweeps me assessing. "Are you all right?"
I open my mouth to answer by a piercing loud wail. Covering my ears, I scream, "What is that?!"
"The alarm!" He shouts back at me. "Stay here!" He wrenches my door open and takes off down the stairs. I stand there for a moment with my hands still over my ears.
"Frog nuts!" I've never been good at following orders.
- Writer
