Mors stood before the reflective window of a popular coffee shop, his eyes pretending to be fixed on his own meticulously groomed appearance. As he straightened his tie and adjusted the collar of his pinstripe suit jacket, it was not his own reflection that captivated him, but rather the unsuspecting figure of Jacob Mesmet seated at a nearby table.
He is a man approaching middle age, though he would never see it. He had a vibrant and energetic presence. He has a tall and athletic build, with a confident posture that exudes a sense of self-assurance. Jacob's features are characterized by his warm, expressive brown eyes that seem to sparkle with life and curiosity. He has a charismatic smile that lights up his face, revealing a row of perfectly straight and white teeth.
Jacob's hair is a rich, chestnut brown, styled in a casual and tousled manner that gives him a carefree and approachable look. His complexion is fair, adorned with a natural healthy glow.
With a subtle glance at his watch, Mors retrieved a note card from the depths of his pocket. The simple white card bore the name "Jacob Mesmet" followed by “38” his age and the chilling details of his impending fate: a car accident outside of jungle cafe at 11:37 am.
Raising his gaze from the card, Mors observed Jacob's blissful ignorance, completely unaware of the imminent tragedy that awaited him. It was moments like these that reminded Mors of the soul-sucking nature of his duties. The weight of each soul he was tasked with burdened him, leaving a hollow ache within his own being.
As he glanced at his watch once more, Mors felt a familiar sense of slowing time. The hands on the timepiece ticked away relentlessly, counting down the seconds until the appointed hour. His eyes focused on his hands looking at the golden ring he always wore on his first finger. It had a wing etched into the top of it. He twisted it on his finger, turning the wing to face his palm, a tool of the otherworldly power that governed his untimely existence.
11:36 am flashed on his watch, a stark reminder of the fleeting moments that separated Jacob from his demise. Mors observed Jacob rise from his table, gathering his belongings and his coffee cup and spoke to the staff as he left, with a gentle kindness that struck a chord within Mors' heart. There was an undeniable joy emanating from Jacob, an infectious gleefulness that seemed to permeate the air around him.
He watched in solemn silence as Jacob stepped into the bustling city streets, his footsteps blending seamlessly with the city's symphony of life. Mors followed suit, skillfully blending into the shadows, his presence unnoticed amidst the chaotic urban landscape.
A screech of tires shattered the tranquility of the surroundings, drawing Mors' attention to the approaching vehicle hurtling towards Jacob. His mind running through the tasks of his job, preparing for what was to come as he witnessed the irreversible collision of two destinies, the shards of glass reflecting the fragility of human existence.
Amidst the chaotic aftermath of the accident, Mors maintained an air of calm composure as he approached the lifeless body. His hand extended, invisible to the frantic onlookers, as he guided the departing soul away from the tragic scene.
The transition from life to death was always disorienting for the newly departed. With a tender voice, Mors addressed the soul before him, stating the name "Jacob Mesmet, 38" with a gentle reverence. Turning his gaze back to the mangled body sprawled on the ground, a wave of confusion and sorrow washed over Mors, tugging at the depths of his being.
"Yes," Jacob's soul responded somberly, his voice carrying the weight of the tragedy that had befallen him. Mors pivoted back to face him fully, his countenance filled with empathy and understanding.
"My name is Mors," he uttered softly, his tone reassuring and gentle. "I am the Angel of Death, and I am here to guide you home." Though the words were familiar to Mors, having been spoken countless times before, their impact on the souls he assisted varied greatly.
The range of emotions that flickered across Jacob's face captivated Mors. It was a raw and unpredictable mix of fear, acceptance, curiosity, and sometimes even relief. Each soul he encountered had their own unique response, their individual journey shaped by the circumstances of their lives and the manner in which they met their end.
With a tender touch, Mors gently clasped Jacob's ethereal form, ready to guide him towards the next chapter of existence. In that moment, he bore the weight of his duty as the Angel of Death, a role that carried immense significance and responsibility. Though he could not alter the fate of those he encountered, he could offer solace and guidance during their final journey.
After a few steps together, a door appeared in front of them, and Mors opened it, and ushered the soul inside. Inside was a room full of bookshelves that lined the wall from floor to ceiling and a small kitchen with a table.
On the table set a tea pot and one cup.
Mors motioned for Jacob to have a seat.
“I lived a great life.” He said as he sat down. “I just wish I could have said goodbye to my wife.” He placed his hand on his face and sighed deeply. Giving himself a moment to grieve.
“What’s next, Mors?” He said looking up.
Mors grabbed the tea pot and poured Jacob a cup of tea and set it in front of him. It hit the table with a small clink.
“I do not know what lies ahead for you. It is not my place to know. I do know that this tea will help you to pass on to whatever is next.”
“How?” He asked curiously.
“This tea will help you forget this life, so that you may charge happily on to your next journey.”
Jacob sighed and picked up the cup. He put his nose to the cup, nervously sniffing at its contents.
Each soul responded so differently to this, but their reaction was never a surprise.
Jacob drank it, and Mors walked over to the door. It no longer opened to the scene of the accident, but to a long climbing staircase, you couldn’t see its end, as it was covered in clouds.
The soul seemed to know what to do. He stood up and began ascending the staircase.
“Be blessed on your journey.” Mors told him as he climbed out of view.
The soul didn’t turn back, they never did. They were drawn forward by an unseen force, pulling them on to whatever lay ahead for them.
Mors turned around and headed back into the room full of bookshelves, walking over to one and taking out a book. He sat down with it at the table, pulling the note and a pen from his pocket. He began to write about the souls' final moments. He wrote his earthly name and details of his death, and chronicled the end of Jacob Mesmet.
When he was finished he held up the white card with Jacob’s name on it, and it was now blank, and it vanished from his hand altogether.
He put the book back on its spot on the shelf, and walked out of the room that had appeared out of nowhere, his current mission now complete.
He walked back through the door he had come through emerging onto the bustling street of the vibrant city, he entered the shadows, discreetly adjusting his golden ring so that the insignia faced upwards. At the same time, his shoulder collided with another's.
"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry! I was completely absorbed in my phone. Are you alright?" The young woman standing before him appeared flustered, her voice tinged with concern. A soft chuckle escaped his lips, resonating with a low, husky timbre.
"I'm perfectly fine," he assured her, amusement dancing in his eyes. With a swift motion, he removed his hat, tipping it respectfully towards the blushing girl. Her cheeks flushed with a hint of embarrassment as she waved him off.
"Have a wonderful day!" she called out, swiftly making her way down the bustling street.
He smiled as he emerged from the shadows onto a busy road.
Following the completion of a mission, he found solace in the bustling energy of crowded places, indulging in the simple pleasure of people-watching. Seeking a moment of respite, he stepped into a cozy café, ordering a drink before venturing outside to claim a table. Settling in, he retrieved a book from his jacket, feigning interest in its pages while secretly observing the world around him.
As time passed, a familiar figure caught his attention, her gaze fixated on the screen of her phone. He couldn't help but chuckle, recognizing the girl who had collided with him earlier. It seemed that humans were creatures of habit, forever engrossed in their digital devices. Lost in conversation, she animatedly chatted away, her emotions playing out across her face as she spoke with a friend.
Unbeknownst to her, he watched her from the café, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. She continued on her way, blissfully unaware of his presence, happily immersed in her lively conversation.
His eyes followed her until she was out of sight.
Taking a sip of his coffee, he observed a couple as they settled at a nearby table, momentarily caught off guard by the red string connecting them. His eyes scanned the surroundings, searching for a specific person. Aware that the imposter could easily blend in, assuming any appearance, he knew identifying them would prove challenging. With a sigh, he settled back in his chair, accepting that he would have to return to his familiar pastime of people-watching.
His attention returned to the couple, engrossed in their lively conversation. Yet, his gaze frequently drifted towards their ring fingers adorned with the symbolic red string, a spiritual reminder of their destined connection to each other.
For a brief moment, he yearned to experience the warmth and solace of the human emotions unfolding before him.
Inhaling deeply, he closed the book he had used as his decoy, and placed it back in its pocket in his jacket.
With the book safely tucked back into his pocket, Mors took a sip of his now lukewarm coffee, relishing the last remnants of its bitter taste. As he made his way towards the trash can, he couldn't help but let his gaze wander around the area again. His eyes scanned the faces of the people passing by, observing the ebb and flow of life around him.
And then, something caught his attention. A glimmer of gold reflected in the sunlight, drawing his gaze towards a man wearing a familiar ring. Mors recognized the insignia engraved on it, a symbol that held great significance to his line of work.
Tipping his hat slightly in acknowledgement, Mors exchanged a knowing glance with the man, a silent acknowledgment of their shared commitment. It was a brief moment of connection, a reminder that he was not alone in this dangerous world. The man nodded in return, his eyes betraying a sense of understanding that only those who had walked a similar path could truly comprehend.
Before his gaze left his comrade, he couldn’t help but notice his somberness.
As Mors turned around to walk away, a familiar sensation tingled in his fingertips. Sensing the same tingle behind him he turned around, his eyes meeting the man again.
Their shared recognition was palpable as both men simultaneously reached inside their jackets, retrieving the small white cards concealed within. It was not a common occurrence for two angels to receive a mission at the same time, especially when they happened to be in such close proximity to one another.
With a sense of dread, Mors glanced down at the white card in his hand. The name "Lilly Whisters" was boldly written, followed by the number "22", indicating her age. The location, "Sunflower Cafe", was specified along with the precise time of the mission: 3:49pm. And the word "Fire" was scrawled at the bottom, hinting at the nature of the demise that awaited.
Raising his eyes, Mors locked his gaze on the sign above the bustling cafe, confirming that this was indeed the designated place. He began to notice several similarly dressed figures had appeared, blending seamlessly into the busy cityscape.
He recognized a few faces around him.
Feeling a wave of unease, Mors instinctively reached down to twist his ring, a simple action that would protect him from being noticed. It was a reminder of the unique burden that fell upon the Angels of Death. Their duty was to guide the souls of the departed onto their next journey, but misfortune often seemed to shadow their every step as they navigated the delicate balance between life and death.
Taking a deep breath, Mors steeled himself for the emotional toll this mission would take on him.
Looking at his watch, it was 3:02pm
As Mors awaited the inevitable, his heart heavy with the weight of the impending tragedy, his gaze searched desperately for Lilly. Amongst the chaos and panic, he finally spotted her, her golden brown hair falling over her face as she remained absorbed in her book. The sight of her innocence and youth made the impending danger feel even more unfair, as if life's cruel twists had robbed her of her chance at a future.
But his attention was abruptly diverted by a faint scent of smoke that reached his nostrils, instantly alerting him to the danger lurking nearby. His eyes followed the source of the smoke, and his heart sank as he witnessed a man deliberately setting fire to the kitchen. The flames danced and flickered, their destructive power evident in the way they engulfed the room with alarming speed.
Before Mors could fully comprehend the cruelty unfolding before him, the man threw several flaming molotov cocktails towards the front of the cafe. The shattered glass and blazing liquid ignited the curtains, transforming them into a fiery barrier that blocked any possible escape routes. Panic and fear filled the air as the flames spread, trapping everyone inside the burning building.
In that moment, Mors couldn't help but reflect on the duality of humanity. How could one person be driven to commit such a heinous act, taking innocent lives in the process? The questions of motive and reason were not his to answer. They belonged to the humans, who would be left to grapple with the dark forces that plagued their society.
Silently, Mors watched as the cafe became a blazing inferno, its walls crackling and collapsing under the intense heat. The explosion that followed sent shockwaves through the surrounding area, a testament to the devastating power of the fire. It was a sight that Mors had witnessed countless times, but it never ceased to pain him, especially when the cruelty of the act was so pronounced.
As an Angel of Death, Mors had been bestowed with the ability to feel human emotions. It was a necessary burden that allowed him to empathize with those he guided to the afterlife, helping them process their own deaths and find solace. But in moments like these, the weight of his own emotions threatened to overwhelm him, as he mourned the loss of so many innocent lives.
As the sirens blared in the distance, the sound of approaching firefighters brought a glimmer of hope. The humans rushed to save their kind, their bravery shining through the chaos. Mors remained a silent observer, his eyes locked on his watch, each passing minute feeling like an eternity.
But deep down, he knew the harsh truth. None of the firefighters would emerge from that burning building alive. Time ticked away, his watch marking the moments that slipped through their fingers, until it finally reached 3:49 pm. Ten minutes had passed, sealing the fate of those trapped inside.
With a heavy heart, Mors made his way into the inferno, the flames unable to harm him as he moved towards the spot where he knew Lilly would be. His hand reached out to her charred body, his touch gentle yet filled with a solemn purpose. As he guided her soul away from the scene, he spoke softly, his voice carrying the weight of both grief and compassion.
"Lilly Whisters, 22?" he asked, his words filled with a profound understanding.
Through her tears, Lilly managed to nod, the realization of her fate crashing down upon her. Mors knelt down beside her, his presence offering a sense of comfort amidst the chaos.
"My name is Mors," he introduced himself, his voice steady and compassionate. "I am an Angel of Death, and I'm here to escort you home."
As the weight of her grief washed over her, Lilly clung to Mors, seeking solace in his otherworldly presence. He took her hand, leading her towards a door that materialized before them. The door radiated a warm, inviting light, offering a sense of comfort and solace amidst the darkness that surrounded them. With a gentle smile, Mors welcomed her inside the bright room beyond.
Lilly looked around, her eyes filled with curiosity and confusion. "What is this place?" she questioned, her voice trembling with a mix of emotions.
Mors motioned for her to have a seat at the table, where a teapot and a single cup were placed. He took a seat across from her, his demeanor calm and reassuring. "Please, have a seat," he urged gently.
"This," he began, motioning around him, "is the doorway to the afterlife. More specifically, this is its waiting room of sorts." He gestured towards the door they had just entered, emphasizing its significance.
Lilly took in the information, her mind still trying to process the unimaginable events that had unfolded. She looked at Mors, her eyes filled with sorrow. "What happened?" she asked, her voice heavy with sadness.
Mors sighed, his expression reflecting the weight of the truth. "Arson," he replied solemnly. "Someone intentionally set fire to the cafe, causing the devastating chain of events that took so many innocent lives."
Lilly's eyes filled with tears as she struggled to comprehend the senseless act of cruelty. "Why?" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of grief and confusion.
Mors shook his head, his eyes filled with a deep understanding. "That answer is not mine to know," he replied gently. "And even if I did know, it wouldn't bring you peace. Humans have the capacity for both kindness and cruelty. It's a duality that exists within them."
He reached across the table and gently placed his hand over hers. "What's important now is that you find peace and solace in this place," he said softly. "You are safe now, and I am here to guide you towards the next phase of your journey."
Lilly nodded, her tears still flowing, but a glimmer of acceptance beginning to shine through. She took a deep breath, finding some comfort in Mors' presence.
Together, they sat in the quiet room, the teapot steaming gently, offering a small sense of familiarity in the midst of the unknown.
“Do you have any regrets?” Mors softly asked her, breaking the silence.
Lilly took a deep breath, her tears still streaming down her face as she considered the question. Memories of her shattered dreams and unfulfilled aspirations weighed heavily on her heart.
"All of the plans I had for my life, I had just graduated and gotten a job," she began, her voice trembling with sadness. "My life had just started, and I had so many dreams. I wanted to have a family, to be a mother, to experience the joys of raising children."
Mors listened attentively, his eyes filled with empathy. He poured her a glass of tea and placed it gently in front of her.
"You have the choice to forget," he said softly, his voice gentle yet filled with the weight of the decision. He motioned towards the glass, indicating that it held the power to ease her pain, to wipe away the memories that brought sorrow.
Lilly looked at the glass, her mind swirling with conflicting emotions, and with a shaky hand picked it up. She took a deep breath, to calm herself. An act that wasn’t needed in her current state, but some human traits are just habits, that the spirit repeats.
“Thank you Mors.” She said somberly as she brought the tea to her lips. As she drank Mors watched the sorrow drain from her face, as her short 22 years on earth were erased. She set down the empty glass.
“Are you ready?” He asked her.
A smile crept over her face, as she turned to the door. “Yes.” She nodded. He led her to the doorway, and opened them to the familiar gray stone stairs that she began to climb to reach her next life.
“May you be blessed in your journey.” He recited to her. She didn’t look back, and continued upward drawn by the unknown pull into the next life.
He quietly closed the door, and walked to gather his book to write his report.
This mission had weighed much heavier on him than any in recent memory.
He couldn’t understand the human emotions that he was feeling. He didn’t know what they were.
He finished his report, pulling out the white card and watched as it disappeared in his hands. He placed the book back in its spot, and left the comfort of the waiting room.
