So, while still being particularly busy with my primary novel (now sitting at 30k words long and growing!), I’ve been lurking about forums and writing communities and keep stumbling across the idea of Serials, Shorts, micro-stories, episodic stories, what have you… And the more I read about them, the more it seemed like an interesting/fun idea to serve as a break that lets me keep writing whenever I find a part in my novel that becomes tough to see the characters through.
Then, while on that tangent, an idea popped in mind for a story…
The first time I met Ostwick Plott, better known as the grim reaper, I had just been pulled from the pile of churned earth that concealed the rotting remains of my former body.
Details of my passing, even now as I write this, were few and far between. There was no tunnel with lights, nor any flashbacks that captured the best and worst times of my corporeal existence that I can recall. I merely was, then ceased to be, then was again. And back when I met him, the rather tall gangly fellow that he was, the scent of fresh soil and crushed granite hanging thick in the air around him, I never once thought him the type to commit suicide.
So when a small white envelope, the words “read me” written in neat cursive on the front, appeared next to my headstone bearing news of the tragic event, I was shocked.
It declared that Ostwick, again, the reaper of men’s souls, had taken a liking to me and felt that during our time together, we had become fast friends. And far be it from me to deny a dead man’s last wish, especially one so familiar with death, but I’m not entirely sure how I feel about showing up for the deceased’s last rites.
Nevertheless, I intend to head to the farthing tomorrow to attend the wake as requested, but that leaves me with the question of why, of all the people he must’ve known, or reaped, as it were, would he ask for me at such a thing?
Liked it? Hated it? Let me know, and keep an eye out for more from Barnaby’s afterlife.