Grim is the Reaper

When you are too frightened to answer death’s call.

The figure stood alone below my window in the alley. It was motionless, surrounded by puddles littered by an evening rain. The streetlight behind the form revealed something glimmering from its hand.

I reached for my phone and selected the camera feature. I then brought the image to focus zooming onto a thin manicured hand clutching a long blade.

The image on the screen shook from being magnified. I moved up, making out curves below a tight-fitting black raincoat. Strands of wet hair clung to the material as I maneuvered my phone slightly upwards past the chest of the figure. A small chain held three interlinked circles resting above the chest. The figures narrow chin dropped down, and as I remained still, their face framed my screen.

A mat of long black hair fell about her head like a pot of limp noodles tossed onto a plate. The woman’s cheekbones were high, revealing pale skin. Her drawn-on lips smirked up at me as ours eyes locked on the screen.

I dropped my phone. Then drew down the window blinds hoping to end her menacing presence.

My heart thumped with panic in my chest. The air challenging to capture as my lungs struggled to breathe. I needed something to drink and stumbled towards the kitchen only a few steps away in my studio apartment. I didn’t care to grab a clean glass from the cabinet but took one of the many dirty dishes still waiting in the sink.

I filled a glass with rusty water and drank. The metallic aftertaste soured my mouth. A noxious flavor that caused me to focus on something other than the woman’s image on the camera. I took another drink.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Then I wondered if I locked the front door. I walked, holding my breath to check. Another set of thin knuckles rapped against my entry door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A small peephole allowed me to peer into the hallway. I don’t know how long I held my breath. But when I saw the rain-soaked pale woman standing before my door smiling, I pretended not to be home.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

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