Jackson Reaper had a reputation in the office for a reason. His strict attitude and unusual appearance made him well known in every division. After all, not just anyone can have a skull for a face and make it look natural… and not just any mortal can get into Afterlife Inc. either. It spoke of his character. No wonder they called him Grim behind his back.

Afterlife Inc. is exactly what it sounds like: when a person dies, this is where their soul goes for evaluation to determine whether they can go to Heaven or not. Some would call it purgatory, or limbo, or something along those lines, but it’s actually a very clean and organized office. Everything has its place, and everything has a procedure.

Jackson’s job was fairly simple, yet very important. Lots of people would consider it soul-crushingly boring, though. Luckily, he didn’t have one of those unreliable things anymore. It was his responsibility to keep track of the paperwork of incoming souls. Every soul was scheduled to arrive at a set time and date, and he had to make sure this goes flawlessly. Whenever he actually had to leave his office, it meant that something had gone wrong, or someone wasn’t doing their job properly. Souls can come in too early, or not at all, and it was his task to investigate these discrepancies and set things right.

The skull-faced salaryman was checking paper after paper that day, inspecting the names, dates, times, causes of death, and the type of stamps they received from the entry division. The one he preferred to see was the green “Arrived” stamp. It meant the soul showed up on schedule, and all he had to do was skim over the details, then put his own stamp on it: “Approved”. There were two other types of stamps that he didn’t like to see, though: “Early” and “Late”. These were the ones he needed to investigate. It broke the pleasant, predictable monotony of his day; instead, he had to waste his time fixing someone else’s mistake. Jackson hated mistakes.

As he grabbed the next paper from the “IN” pile, his boney eyebrows sunk into a frown. Samuel Smith, twenty-eight, hit by a bus. On the bottom of the form: a big red “Late” stamp. The “date arrived” was left blank, meaning that Samuel never even showed up. He was two weeks late.

Jackson let out an annoyed sigh and put the paper down. He was really hoping he could have just one pleasant week without something going wrong, but of course, that’s never the case. He stood up and left the office, turning briefly to his secretary as he walked. “Lilith, I’ll be out of the office for about an hour. Make sure my papers arrive in order.”

“Yes, Mr. Reaper.” came the answer. Jackson headed towards the entrance hall, nodding at anyone he passed by. People usually stayed out of his way; after all, he had a reputation in the office. He was fine with that; others didn’t like talking to him, and he didn’t like talking to others. It worked out.

He made his way to the entrance. It was officially known as the entry division – there was a booth opposite to the front door, with souls standing in a long snaking line next to it. A man was sitting in the booth, looking at some papers while talking to the soul in front. One could have mistaken him for a human if it wasn’t for the large, white-feathered wings nestled on his back. He was naked from the waist up, and looked unnaturally healthy. Of course. HE had to be on duty right now. Jackson rolled his non-existent eyes, then walked up to the booth.

“Gabe, I’ll be out of the office for a while. Can you call me a ride?” he said, leaning onto the counter with one arm. The man looked up and flashed a white-toothed grin at him. “Why, is something wrong?”

“No, I want to take a leisurely walk in the moonlight, Gabe. What else do you think I’m heading out for?” Jackson growled. “A soul is late and I need to investigate. You should know, you stamped his paper.”

“Of course. No need to get so grim, Grim.” Gabe said cheerfully. He was the only person in the office who openly called him that. Jackson had to let it slide, though. Gabe was from the upper offices – ‘Grim’ knew it wasn’t worth getting snappy with him.

He stepped away from the booth and headed outside, ignoring the stares of the newly arrived. There was a soul greeter standing by the front door, but Jackson ignored them, making his way down the short path outside – cement slabs leading into the empty void, with a tiny patch of grass surrounding them on each side. At the very end of the path, where the slabs ended, there was a wooden bench facing the emptiness, standing in its lonesome. Jackson sat down and waited.

In just a minute, a cab appeared in front of him in the void. He stood up and got in the back without a word. The front seats were empty – there was no need for a driver. Once he was comfortable, Jackson called out his destination loud and clear, and as if by request, the void around him shifted. The empty scenery quickly changed into a dark suburban avenue illuminated only by a lone streetlight. Getting out, Jackson muttered a thank you before the cab disappeared.

The street was empty and silent. Few have a reason to wander after midnight, but even if they did, nobody would have noticed the hooded figure. People tend to only see things that want to be seen. The house in front of him was dark, its resident asleep. Jackson walked up the pathway and went straight through the door without opening it. This way, he didn’t make any noise.

The house was a simple downtown home with two floors. If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all – Jackson practically knew the place already, even though it was his first time there. He walked up the stairs and over to one of the doors he suspected was the bedroom. He phased through it and looked around.

The room was fairly small, but still managed to have a bookcase, a table, a nightstand and a large bed. On the latter, all but his head hidden under the blanket, a man was sleeping soundly. Jackson knew it was Samuel by the picture on his paper. On one of the posts at the footboard, a creature was staring at Jackson from the darkness. It had the body of a butterfly, but it was gray and much bigger than one, about the size of a large dog. Its face was humanoid, and instead of antennae, it had one long spike on its forehead like a unicorn. It looked nervous, its wings fluttering silently.

Jackson looked at the creature. “Cindy.” he said. His strict expression just made the butterfly even more anxious.

He knew the creature was a guardian angel, of course. Their job was to look after their assigned human, to make sure they’re safe until their time comes. Guardian angels had the authority to alter reality in minor ways, which helped them accomplish their task with relative ease.

“O-oh…” Cindy mumbled, trying to keep her composure. “Hi, Mr. Reaper… What a pleasant surprise...!”

“You’ve done it again, haven’t you?” he asked, crossing his boney arms. Cindy lowered her head. “Yes…”

Jackson rubbed his forehead, letting out a sigh. “Look… Cindy, we’ve been over this. Do you know how late this soul is?”

“He… he’s not just a soul!” the guardian angel said, taking flight and hovering over the bed. “I just… I couldn’t let him die so young! He’s special!”

“Yes, I’m sure he is.” Jackson shook his head. “Just like the person before him, right? Cindy, you can’t keep doing this. I already went out of my way to get you this second chance. You know how upset the boss can get if something doesn’t go according to plan.”

“Yes, but…”

“There’s no excuse. When you got this job, you were specifically told in orientation not to let your emotions get in the way. That just doesn’t work out here.” He then glanced towards the sleeping man. “He was supposed to be hit by a bus two weeks ago, what happened?”

The guardian angel softly landed on the bedpost again. “I-I tried my best, I really did! It was just… in that split second… I just couldn’t let it happen! He has so much to live for!”

Jackson shook his head again. “You know that’s not how it works. He has to go, now.”

Cindy looked at the floor silently. She didn’t dare oppose him – she knew she messed up. Jackson sighed and stepped over to the bed. He raised his boney arm, motioning towards the man with his fingers. After a few seconds, a tiny, glowing orb left the sleeper’s mouth, briefly illuminating the room with a blue light before it disappeared.

“There.” Reaper lowered his arm. “Don’t worry. He felt no pain.”

Cindy looked at the man, then back at the floor.

“Now come on. I need to fix his paperwork.” Jackson turned away and headed towards the door, but the guardian angel didn’t move. He stopped and looked back at her, then sighed. “Come on, Cindy. If you hurry, you may still meet him in the office.”

Hearing that, Cindy looked up. “Really?” she asked, and took flight again. A glimmer of hope could be heard in her voice.

“Yeah.” Jackson replied. “Just don’t tell anyone.”