But he didn’t believe her. He was sure that Death had come for him at last.
So, one night, after fretting for so many days, he waited until everyone had gone to bed, and at 3am he took his ladders and climbed up onto his neighbour’s roof and to the “chimney stack”.
And there he sat, calm, pale faced and dressed head to toe in black, scythe in hand - the Grim Reaper.
“I knew it. I knew it was you! Nobody believed me!” he gasped, shivering in the crisp night air.
The Reaper turned to look at him and the man thought he saw a flash of a smile play across his thin, pale lips.
“You’re here to kill me, aren’t you?” the man whispered.
“Silly man,” the Reaper replied, “I don’t kill people. I simply take their souls when the time is right. Quite often it’s something else that kills them. Just ask the cat.”
The man looked confused for a moment and then laughed in relief. “Then I’m ok. You’re not going to kill me?!”
The Reaper shook his head.
“Then what are you doing up here? It’s bloody freezing.”
The Reaper didn’t reply.
The man climbed a little higher. “Come on. Please tell me. What are you doing here?”
The Reaper stared at him and then looked away. “Dying is such a strange beast for you mortals to understand. You came up here seeking answers when you didn’t need them, but then I had no choice but to be up here because you were too curious.”
“I don’t understand.” The man crept a little closer.
“You know what they say about curiosity, don’t you? If you hadn’t been curious, I never would have had to have waited for you tonight. And the only reason you were curious was because I was sat here waiting for you. It’s quite an interesting little loop, isn’t it?”
The man laughed. “You’re not making any sense. If you’re not going to kill me then why are you waiting for me?”
But the man didn’t get his answer. It was a cold night. The roof tiles were slippery, and all it took was one misplaced foot. The man slipped, tipping backwards, sliding down the roof before falling straight down to his death.
The Grim Reaper shook his head and sighed. “What am I waiting for? I’m not going to kill you. I’m just waiting for you to do it yourself.” He stared down at the broken man lying on the floor of his neighbour’s front garden. “Curiosity, my friend. Curiosity.”
The End
Copyright © 2022 by Jim Allenby
All rights reserved. This story or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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