I was sitting on a park bench minding my own business, when up pops the Grim Reaper sitting next to me. I think I was the only one that could see him because the passersby paid no attention.
I kid you not, there he was black-cloaked from head to foot, with his scythe and hourglass. I noticed it wasn’t running out of sand yet in the top section.
“You haven’t come for me, have you?” I said, nervously.
“No, no, you’ve got some time left. I’m just resting.”
“From what I can see your face is quite bony.”
“It’s a skull, it represents the decay of earthly flesh.”
“Your robe and hood are entirely black, is it because you don’t like color?”
“I like black because it is the color of death and morning.”
“What’s the scythe for?”
“It’s for cutting the flesh and extracting the soul.”
“Wow! No wonder they call you, “GRIM.”
“And before you ask, the hourglass represents a person’s life and reminds them that their days are numbered!”
I sat wringing my hands.
“We are the only species burdened with knowing the truth about our biological destiny. WE ALL WILL DIE, SOMEDAY!”
“That’s right, you are very perceptive!”
“Do you have anything less grim to say?”
“Well, I’m not a very upbeat guy.”
“You can say that again.”
“How’s this for upbeat? Humans try to deny the reality of death, by “living on” through their legacies.”
“Oh, do you mean I will “live on” through the novels that I’ve wrote?”
“Exactly! You can also be motivated by me standing behind you.”
“As long as you are breathing, and are aware of me behind you, you will really live life to the full and enjoy every moment.”
“Well, Mr. Reaper, I do suffer from Time Anxiety. I fear it might be too late to do all I want to do. I am, after all, 76 years old!”
“My friend, you have to learn to squeeze a lot of life into a little time.”
“What do you recommend?”
“You’re a writer, so write! Through your stories you can weave your life into a coherent and meaningful pattern. You’ve still got time to think about your life and what it all meant. Your story could contain a mix of factual and fictional parts. Keep writing!”
“Thanks for straightening out my situation. I’ve got so many questions for you.”
The Grim Reaper jumped up and said:
“I’m sorry, I’ve got to get going, I’m late for an appointment!”
As he was leaving, I said:
“I HOPE IT’S NOT A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH!”