Short Stories: The Reaper Queen

Damp, darkness entombed the infinite cavern. There was no fire in Hell, just endless barren deserts of glassy, black rocks that had long ceased to be warm to the touch.  The volcanoes that had once spewed molten magma from the deepest depths of the earth now lay dormant.  Endless rows of lifeless summits enveloped in mists of forgetfulness. Hell had been abandoned, and left to decay like a hideously deformed Eden.  The sky glowered above and looked almost black as flocks of carrion crows flew aimlessly overhead. Their wings carried them deeper into the abyss on an eternal journey that would never end.  A shadowy figure perched on the edge of a rock face looked out upon her paradise and smiled.  The wind ruffled the hood of her heavy, dark woollen cloak revealing the grotesque figure beneath.  Pale ribbons of delicate flesh like torn silk hung loosely over the white exposed bone.  She was repulsive and she was beautiful.  Wisps of hair that had once been golden, now turned pure white, protruded from beneath her hood.  Ebony eyes shone keenly in the pale spectre’s face.  She was a demon and she was an angel.  A lone crow descended from the sky and alighted on her shoulder tucking its ebony wings neatly away.  Her smile widened into an even more horrific grin as she gripped her Scythe tightly between her skeletal fingers.  She had been summoned.

Her cloak trailed along the flagstone floor whispering in the silence.  Fires roared in the grate in the intricately carved, ebony fireplaces that lined both sides of the opulent hallway.  She rejoiced at the feeling of the warmth from the orange flames embracing her.  It was even more beautiful here than she had imagined.  She paused outside the large heavy doors with the brass gargoyle handles feeling faint stirrings beneath her ribcage in the spot where her once beating heart used to lie.  She was entering His domain now and even after all these years of dreaming of this exact moment she could not bring herself to open the door.  She pressed her skull against the door desperately and laid her bony fingers on the wooden doorframe.  She was eager to enter but afraid to go any further.  She heard His low tones from just beyond the door and she shivered in anticipation.  No creature or entity was allowed to look upon Him.  He was the nameless, faceless Master of the Underworld who none dared look upon with their own unworthy eyes.  She edged the door open slightly and cautiously pushed her eye hesitantly against the narrow crack of light.  The room was magnificent.   Her mouth opened as her eyes greedily devoured every detail in the room.  She knew she should not look and that He would punish her if He knew but she could not resist the temptation.

The room was cavernous and filled with black, crystal chandeliers and long tables set out with the finest cutlery in preparation for a feast that would never be consumed, winged chairs and ornamental fireplaces pressed into every wall.  The walls were decorated in gold leaf and lined with dusty volumes that no human hands had ever touched. She had not felt this alive since the day her heart had stopped beating.  She froze as her eyes became fixated with the throne at the end of the room and the figure seated upon it.  It was Him.  She was desperate to see her Master’s face but he was covered completely in heavily plated armour.  He was not alone.  She strained to hear his voice and stiffened in fear as she heard the malice dripping from it.

‘I am most disappointed with your work.’

She saw the trembling cloaked figure he was addressing crouched low on the floor in complete submission.

‘I am afraid I have no choice.’

She watched in horror as the figure on the floor whimpered helplessly.  He pointed his Scythe towards him and his cloak fell to the floor, completely empty except for a large crow that now stood in his place.  The crow flapped its ebony feathers futilely and squawked incessantly.  He threw back his head and laughed his hollow, tinny laugh as he pointed his Scythe towards the open window.  The crow flew away into the black mist with just one swift flap of its wings.

‘Go.  Go and spread my work across my beautiful Abbadon my little minion.’

She knew she should be afraid of Him.  But she could not help but be transfixed by Him.  She should fear and hate Him for transfiguring her into this thing, a Demon, a Reaper.  But she loved Him.  He was her Master and the creator of this beautiful Hell.  His head turned sharply towards the door and she jumped back in fear.  She was shaking.  The bones all over her body, long devoid of muscle, tendons, sinew, veins and feeling, began to tremble. Now she too would be turned into a messenger crow.

‘Enter.’

Perhaps she would be absolved somehow and would not have to spend eternity as a crow.  Please.  She begged inwardly.  She nervously opened the door, pulling her hood completely over her eyes.  She made her way towards the centre of the room as stoically as she could manage.  She did not want Him to think she was afraid.  That she was weak.  She felt as if she had been walking for an eternity she may as well have been walking to the gallows.

‘Stop.’

His voice was soft and very close, it was barely above a whisper but his tone did not disguise the power she knew lay within Him.

She knelt before him bowing her head to the flagstone floor.

‘You know you are forbidden to look at me or this room and yet you did it anyway.  I like that.’

She began to smile.  She did not know why her skeletal arms had not been transformed into ebony wings but for some reason, He had chosen to spare her.  She heard his heavy metallic footsteps approaching and they halted before her.

‘I have chosen you for this job, because you are different from the others.  I watch you.  You are not repulsed by my paradise like all my other Minions.  All the others want to go back up there into that rotten, filthy realm with all those disgusting humans or above the clouds with those demons.  But you…you’re special.’

She felt his breath, unnaturally cool, at her ear and she shuddered but not out of fear.  His metallic claws clutched at the corners of her hood and she screwed her eyes shut.  Her white hair cascaded out of her hood and fell lifelessly upon her papery, cheeks.  She felt an icy, iron finger trail across the lattice of flesh and bone across her cheek.

‘You always were beautiful.  But you were wasted up there.  Down here, you are my most treasured Minion.  If you succeed in this mission you will no longer be my Minion.  You will be my Queen.’

Her eyes flew open.  He could not be speaking to her. There must be someone else.  She gazed up at the towering beast above her.  He tilted her chin upwards with his hand and she glimpsed an icy, blue eye behind the armour.

‘Go. Go into the world and bring back our new Minion, my Queen.  My Persephone.’

Persephone.  She no longer remembered her human name and she felt an almost familiar warm feeling spread throughout her vacant chest cavity as he called her name.  She felt alive again.   Here, she was finally home.  All of this would be hers, all of this beautiful Abbadon.

‘I will not let you down Master.’

Persephone walked to the large, open window and gazed out upon her beautiful grey paradise before stretching her frail, inexperienced wings and flying through the grey mists until they turned to the once familiar but now forgotten brilliant, cobalt skies.

It was Earth.  It had changed since her time here, but the people had remained the same.  She was at the corner of a busy intersection and the people walked through her completely unaware of her presence and of every other person in their path.  They all had blinkers on as they each embarked on their own personal journey.  Each person cocooned in their own little, narcissistic universe.  The air was no longer fresh like she remembered but stale and stagnant.  She was stifled by the muggy heat and the endless rows of strange people wearing strange clothes. She walked towards a patch of green amongst the sea of grey concrete and people.  From her oasis of refuge she began to look for the perfect Trophy to take to her King. She smiled, suddenly glimpsing a vivacious young girl running across the street. Her hair streamed behind her like a golden flame, cheeks pink and full, eyes that shone keen and bright.  Her skin an even, untarnished, white.  Persephone could not recall seeing anything as pure or as full of precious life.  Her smile curved upwards devilishly pulling the decaying flesh across her cheek upwards in grotesque semblance of a grin.  She followed close behind the girl.  She was the one.  She was the trophy that would guarantee her a place at her King’s side.

The girl stood out from all the others.  She was dressed in a bright red dress, not grey like all the rest and she seemed to glow with life.  Life was flowing through her veins and thrumming just beneath the surface of her untainted skin.  All the others in the crowd were destined for nothing but this girl she was destined for the realm of Abbadon.  She would become their greatest asset.  With her they could re-establish Hell’s reign and tear Heaven down from its almighty pedestal.  Persephone could see it now, the beautiful volcanoes once again spewing fire and the skies once again engaged in a thunderous battle that never ceased.

The girl halted outside a large granite building and spritely walked up the stone steps close to the large entrance door.  She shook her bag desperately trying to find her keys the jingling echoing down the deserted street.  Persephone approached her silently and stood directly beside the girl, now was her chance.  The girl huffed agitatedly as she bent to the floor, emptying the contents of her bag onto the stone steps.  Her beautiful golden hair fell across her pretty face as she rifled through the mass of paper and pens from her bag.  This was it.  Persephone could not help but grin as her bony fingers with the ribbons of flesh hanging limp and lifeless from the skeleton drew closer to the girl’s outstretched, splayed fleshy hands.  The blue veins visible beneath the pale pink skin. Persephone could hear the blood rushing through her veins and the reassuring rhythm of her beating heart.  The sound had grown foreign to her ears.

‘You know it is not her time Reaper.  Nor is she your property.’

Persephone withdrew her hand sharply as she jumped back, desperately trying to identify the owner of the soft, urgent voice.  Persephone smirked as her eyes fell upon the brilliantly white, winged spectre at her side.  It was one of his minions from up there.

‘I know.  Nor is she yours.’  Persephone replied scathingly.

‘There will be repercussions for taking an innocent, you know that.  We are only permitted to guide them into the next life, not unduly take them from this one.’

Persephone laughed, the hollow sound resonating through the air.  The girl froze and abandoned her search for her keys as she trembled involuntarily.  She gazed up and straight through the invisible Persephone suspiciously.  She wrapped her arms around herself as her skin involuntarily erupted in Goosebumps.

‘You cannot save me.  I am already lost.  Heaven has no place for me and I have no place for it.’  Persephone replied bitterly.

‘Think of the girl.  She is innocent.’ said the Spectre imploringly.

‘Innocence does not exist.’   Persephone muttered darkly.

Persephone reached out her skeletal fingers and wrapped them tightly around the girl’s warm, soft wrist.  The girl screamed as Persephone’s form became visible.  Her lip trembled as she took in the tall, skeletal, cloaked figure that clutched her wrist in an icy grip.  She shuddered as the ribbons of pale greenish flesh that hung from its bones whispered against her warm skin.  She paled; she would wake up from this nightmare soon.  Persephone and the girl stood on a deep chasm leading back to her paradise.  She pulled the girl up roughly, tuning out her incessant whimpers and screams.  She had long grown indifferent to the sufferings of her despicable kind.   Persephone took one last look at the Spectre’s face that was awash with shock and disgust before leaping into the abyss.  Persephone smiled smugly at him.  She had found the most beautiful Trophy to bring to her Master and she would be rewarded.

The girl had stopped screaming just as they flew over the large volcano on the western ridge beside her Master’s home.  She hung limply from Persephone’s fragile fingers as she alighted through her Master’s window.   She placed the girl on the hearth delicately; her breathing was still steady despite her unconsciousness. Persephone bowed before her Master, who was seated on his throne at the head of the table, patiently awaiting her return.  Feeling bold, she removed her hood without his permission and her eyes keenly searched for any glimpse of reaction behind the metal mask.  He walked over to the girl softly running his steel claws across the delicate, exposed, skin at her throat.  He brushed her vibrant hair away from her face and smiled appreciatively at the girl’s full lashes, unblemished skin, pink cheeks and her small, pretty mouth.  Persephone’s smile began to falter into a jealous scowl.  He had not even acknowledged her presence yet.  He walked over to Persephone slowly, his footsteps echoing loudly in the cavernous room.  He placed his metal claws on Persephone’s jagged shoulders smiling darkly.   Persephone closed her eyes and surrendered to his rough touch.

‘She is a beautiful Trophy.  You have truly outdone yourself.  She is the most beautiful Trophy I have ever seen.  Even you were not such a beautiful Trophy.’

Persephone’s smile fell and her eyes narrowed angrily.  He laughed at her expression.

‘Oh, Persephone you are beautiful.  My most faithful Minion but that girl, she is the one.  I cannot make her a Reaper. She will be my Queen.  She will be the one that will restore Hell to all its former glory.  She will reignite the fires and stand by my side as ruler of Abaddon.’

Persephone sank to the floor submissively.  He had tricked her.  He did not care for her and she was not special.  She was just another of his mindless marionettes being used in one of his sick games that would never end.  It had all been for nothing.  Reapers were just as expendable as the crows and the humans to him.  He was the King and all the others were disposable pawns he could crush at any moment in his harsh metallic fist.

‘I am sorry it had to come to this.  You are my best Reaper but you are not my Persephone.’

If she had still been able to make tears or if her heart had still been beating she would have wept, begged and been too afraid to keep her eyes open.  But she had nothing left to lose.  He had taken it all from her.

She kept her eyes trained on his staff as he pointed it towards her.  Her black eyes bored into his steely blue ones.  She felt as if her entire skeletal body was being compressed.  The bones twisted and cracked into frail papery, black feathers.  She cawed futilely in the emptiness and flew out of the open window into the black sky to join the endless stream of crows in their eternal flight.

He walked over to the girl sweeping her warm, limp body into his cold arms.  He took her to the window and whispered in her ear:

‘Wake up my beautiful Persephone.  All of this beautiful paradise is yours.’

The girl stirred and woke with a start clutching her head blankly.  Her glassy, green eyes widened in horror as she looked out upon the endless grey abyss and at the the man who’s claws were digging into the flesh at her shoulder. Her nightmare was only beginning and there would be no end.