Meeting Death's Messenger.

It was quick, my death.
An unknown assailant taking a shot from behind. An efficient, if cowardly tactic.

For a brief moment, I felt the bullet impact my skull. And then... nothing.

A few seconds after I hit the ground, I stood up again. Somehow I knew I was dead. A quick glance to the floor would indeed reveal my lifeless body, but I had no need to look.

I'd been in my study at work when it happened. As such, a guard soon entered the room, no doubt alerted by my colleagues about the gunshot. A small crowd formed behind him, trying to look into the room. Those who were able to see within were either disturbed or frightened, I'm not sure which. Maybe both.

A short while after my death, a woman came through the crowd. She didn't nudge through the crowd, she literally came through it, phasing through person and object alike. Anyone she touched visibly shuddered, although they wouldn't remember it later.

The woman approached me. Unlike the other people, she seemed to be focused on me instead of my body. I could only assume that she was a spirit or angel of some sort. Considering my current situation, it crossed my mind that she might be death itself. I dismissed this idea, as she had skin and wasn't wearing the traditional death robe.

She did, however, carry a scythe...

When she was beside me, I got a better look at her. She looked to be about 20 years of age, with long dark hair and a pale white skin. She had the most interesting eyes, a mix of red, purple, and grey. She was wearing a black and purple dress, with a black cloak draped over her shoulders.

Oh, and she also had black feathered wings.

She spoke with a certainty, but also with a seemingly mournful tone. It seemed as she knew that terrible things would happen, and that they must happen. This became more evident in a later event, but that is a tale for another time.

"So, David" She said, in that sad voice of hers. "It seems that your past has caught up with you."

"It has a funny way of doing that, Miss Reaper." I replied. She seemed a little annoyed by the title I gave her, which was evident in her tone when she replied "It's Charity. You may call me Charity."

"A seemingly unfitting name for one in your line of work." I said. "Although, one could argue that assisting others in this dark time would fit the definition well."

"One could, if they wished." She replied, a little more irritated now than before. "However, I'm not here to debate my name with you."

"Quite right. Now, are you the type of reaper who passes judgement? Or the kind who leads souls to the final courtroom?"

"Neither." She said, pulling out a book. "I'm the kind who shows you all of your mistakes and regrets, successes and triumphs. I show you yourself, so that you may get a better understanding of things to come."

"Right." I said, a little worried now. "Let's get this done, then."

"Very well." She said, taking on a formal tone.

She opened the book in front of me, and inside were images of my life. Instead of words, the pages showed moving pictures of everything that ever happened to me.

Charity turned the book to herself, and the images were replaced with words. I am unsure of how I knew this, but I did at the time.

"From a young age" She began, "You believed in the power of faith and loyalty. You did not know this until later on in life, but you later realized that you always had faithfulness placed in high importance."

This was true. Disloyalty and unfaithfulness had always filled me with a dark rage. At the age of 16, I found a motto for myself, and tried to live up to it until I died. Fidelis Usque ad Mortem, Faithful until Death. It was hard at times, and nigh impossible at others, but I believe that I followed it well. I mentioned this to the reaper.

"Most of the time, yes." She replied. "However, there are a few times where you abandoned that ideal for selfish reasons." She turned the book towards me, and it showed an image of a younger me walking beside a river. I was talking on a phone on my way home from work. I looked terrible, with a wrinkled shirt and messed up hair.

"I remember that day..." I said, looking past the image and into the past. "It was the day I quit my first real job." I had been working at a small software development company. Things were fun at first, but one day I'd gotten into a fight with the rest of the team. On my way home, I got a call from a more well-known company. They offered a higher pay rate with fewer hours. Normally I would decline, but I wasn't thinking clearly. I said I would think about it, then I called into my former workplace and quit. It wasn't pretty.

This turned out to be a mistake, as a few years later my old company grew larger than my current one, and my current workplace went bankrupt.

"You felt the effects of that decision for years afterwards" said Charity, as she turned her book back towards her.

"Yes. That mistake cost me more than I'd realized. I started to doubt any decision that I made."

"From the looks of things, you could describe most of your life as doubt" She said, flipping through the book. "This was helpful at times, but hurtful most of the time."

She turned her book back towards me, and I saw me again, even younger than I was during the last image. I was standing in a driveway, behind a two-tone Aerostar minivan.

It was right after an event that I'd rather not mention, but I began to doubt those around me. It wasn't until a couple of years later that I began to trust again.

"This wasn't the first time," Said the reaper. "Nor was it the last. It was the most important one, though, and I think that's why the Book chose it to show you."

"It was more important than it seemed." I said quietly.

"Indeed it was. After that day, you found it significantly harder to make new friends. Or, you found it harder to accept new friends." She turned the book back towards her.
"You didn't trust people very easily for a long time. I don't think you ever did after that."

"No." I said, then looked up at her. "But the friends I did make, I trusted more than I would have before."

"Yes, this is true." She began, "You passed through your first trial with a stronger bond with those around you. For you were not alone in that test, those around you suffered as well. But you all overcame, and ended up with a a stronger sense-"

"Of loyalty" I finished.

"Well, yes. That as well. I was going to say community, but loyalty works too."

"I think that was when I started to realize it's true importance to me" I said, thinking back to that day.

After a few moments of remembrance, Charity continued.

"The Book shows that you once had a very powerful dream. It affected your life for a long time afterwards, and changed how you viewed life."

She turned the book towards me, and I saw a face that I hadn't seen in years.

"Sarah..." I said, a deep feeling of sadness overtaking me.

"She was important to you, although I can't find anything about her in any other books." Charity said, obviously confused.

"Of course not" I said harshly, as this was a sore subject for me. "She never existed. She was someone who I sometimes saw in my dreams. They seemed real at the time and I... I believed that I loved her." I paused for a few moments, then continued on. "The last time that I saw her, she died. I searched for her in the waking world, but I never found anything."

"You never married. Was she the reason why?" Charity asked me.

"Partially." I responded. "Part of the reason was that I was waiting for her, and another part was that I never felt the same way about anyone else. And even if I had found someone, I wouldn't have felt right pursuing them instead."

"And we're back to loyalty again. Or faithfulness, rather."

"You'll find that coming up quite a bit." I replied, chuckling a little.

Charity let out a small laugh, then covered her mouth as if she hadn't meant to.
After clearing her throat, she went on to the next story.

"Now for something positive."

"Great, I was beginning to wonder if there actually was any, or if I'd just imagined it."

"No, it was real alright." She said, then turned the book back towards me. I saw me, a little older than I was in the first story, in a firefighter's uniform.

"My volunteer days! Oh, those were a hoot!" I said, fondly remembering those five years.

"I can imagine. Many lives were saved by you and your fellows during those years." Charity said.

As I stared at the images flickering before my eyes, they changed into one of a giant burning building. I recognized it instantly.

"The Bilger Warehouse fire." I said, a tone of awe entering my voice. It had been the largest fire I'd ever fought in.

You see, The Bilger Warehouse had stored lumber for a local hardware store. They had a problem with thieves making off with some of the pieces, so they hired some security for the place. One of the guards got careless and flicked a still burning cigarette a little too close to some of the wood. Soon, the whole place was up in flames, with some of the guards trapped inside. By the time we got there, all of the exits had been cut off.
With no visible way in, we had a tough decision to make: Fight the fire from the outside and hope that we get it under control in time, or cut our way through the wall, which would take too long. After arguing over which was the better option, I came up with another one.

We'd go in through the roof.

There was a window on top of the roof that was right above a scaffold. We broke the glass, hopped down into the warehouse, and located the guards. The only problem was getting back out. We jury-rigged a harness from some supplies in one of the trucks, and lifted almost all of the guards out. When we went to lift the last one out, though, the rope caught fire. As he fell, one of the other volunteers caught him. We were desperately looking for a way out, when we heard someone yelling something outside. It was hard to hear, but we could make out "Stand ba-! Motherf- Water Ca-on time! Those of us inside looked at each other, then ducked. Right as we did so, one of the weaker parts of the wall in front of us exploded as water rushed in. It stopped long enough for us to get out.

We fought the fire for the rest of the night and most of the next morning, but in the end there was nothing left of the warehouse. Still, we saved the lives of the guards, and that was what mattered most.

"Your entire team was extraordinarily brave that night." Said Charity, as she turned her book back towards her.

"Yeah, they were." I said, still lost in the memory. "However, that fire caused me to start reconsidering my decision to volunteer. After a few weeks, I'd decided that I wasn't suited to that kind of work."

"Hmm, yes." Charity flipped through a few pages in her book. "After you left, you came here. A relatively tame job compared to your others, but fit for a man of your age."

"Yes, well. If you were 56, You'd probably be Ok with filing tax returns, too." I replied.

"Perhaps. In any case, we have one final story."

"Oh?" I asked, surprised. "I had assumed that we would be combing over every little part of my life."

"No," she replied, "Only the most important, defining parts."

"Ah. Well, I'm sure that you've saved the best for last. What horrible, wonderful, terrifying beautiful memory is next?" I said. I knew a few that it might be, but I didn't want to relive them.

"None." She replied, as she closed her book.

"None? Wha- But you said that there was one more!" I asked, highly confused.

"There is, but it's not a memory yet." Charity replied. This left me wondering what she meant.  Suddenly, everything around me blurred. The next thing I knew, I was in a large room with flowers decorating the walls. There were people starting to enter the room, mostly wearing black. I looked around, and there was a wooden box, rectangular in shape, right behind me.

"Wait," I began, "are we where I think we are?"

Charity turned to me and smiled.
"Welcome to your funeral, David."

It was bigger than I'd imagined. I would have expected that only a few handfuls of people would show up. Instead, the room was mostly filled.

"Who are all these people?" I asked Charity.

"Why, they're your friends, David." She responded.

"No, that can't be. I only had 4 or 5 friends when I died."

"No, you only believed that you had a few friends. In reality, you had more than you could have imagined." I looked out into the ever increasingly filling room, still unbelieving.

"Surely I couldn't have befriended this many people!" I said.

"Oh, but you did. While you may not have known it, you touched a lot of peoples' lives. For example: When your team saved those guards lives, their entire families considered you all friends." Charity explained.

"All of these people... and I never even realized it." I said, starting to tear up.

"It's never too late, David."

"I'm kind of dead, Charity. I don't think I'll be able to do anything now."

"Yes, you are dead. And one day they will be, too. And on that day, you will be reunited with each and every one of them."

"I... Thank you, Charity. Thank you for showing me this. " I said, turning to shake her hand. When I turned to look, though, she was starting to fade away.

The world was starting to fade away, too. "Wait, where am I going?" I asked.

Charity's voice floated to me from nowhere and everywhere at once. "To find your Paradise, David. While you will be reunited with your friends, it may take awhile. While you wait, and after they've arrived, you may live in your perfect world."

"Will I see you again?" I asked. I know we'd only met a few hours ago, but already she felt like a friend. After learning that I had so many, I didn't want to lose any.

"You may. When I bring the others here, I might stay for a chat."

"That would be nice. Until then, Goodbye Charity."

"Goodbye, David."

And so I've waited here ever since. It's actually quite nice. I have a house in the middle of a prairie, and there is a mountain range a short distance from here. Charity occasionally stops by to inform me that one of my friends are arriving, or just for a talk. We've become good friends over the years, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

End.