Soul Thief
Oberon travelled to Earth.
He was exceptionally fond of Earth and its inhabitants, especially when Edol created Irene to look after all these living things.
And only living things they were to Oberon until Irene said one soft day, "They have personalities and voices all their own. All of them. From the smallest flower to the tallest elephant."
Elephant? Oberon asked.
"Oh yes. The funny names humans give animals," Irene giggled.
That laugh was charming. And so were these funny humans.
None did see the tall and foreboding Oberon walk their streets. He was invisible to them until they died.
And he searched for lost humans until another died.
An apartment in a Central City. A man hung himself.
This world and all it has to offer, mused Oberon, yet they choose death instead.
Oberon was fond of himself, but could not fathom that humans were as well.
Irene was fond of him. Irene was perhaps the only living thing fond of him.
He sliced this man's soul free from his body.
But when he lifted that terrifying scythe of his, there was no soul to sever.
The rope finally snapped and the the wooden beam over the man's head gave way before his neck did.
The man pulled himself from his body, looked over his body silently.
Then the man turned to Oberon.
There was no fear in his dark eyes. This had been a very thoughtful death.
Good morning, said Oberon.
"Are you the Grim Reaper?" asked the man in a thick, northern accent.
That is one of my names, said Oberon.
"Afterlife, huh?" the man mused.
I regret to inform you that your soul has been stolen, Oberon regrettably informed the man.
"What?"
Humans are quizzical, thought Oberon.
Oberon explained, You will not have an afterlife. Your soul is gone. Your soul has been stolen.
"What?" tried the man again in disbelief.
He was exceptionally fond of Earth and its inhabitants, especially when Edol created Irene to look after all these living things.
And only living things they were to Oberon until Irene said one soft day, "They have personalities and voices all their own. All of them. From the smallest flower to the tallest elephant."
Elephant? Oberon asked.
"Oh yes. The funny names humans give animals," Irene giggled.
That laugh was charming. And so were these funny humans.
None did see the tall and foreboding Oberon walk their streets. He was invisible to them until they died.
And he searched for lost humans until another died.
An apartment in a Central City. A man hung himself.
This world and all it has to offer, mused Oberon, yet they choose death instead.
Oberon was fond of himself, but could not fathom that humans were as well.
Irene was fond of him. Irene was perhaps the only living thing fond of him.
He sliced this man's soul free from his body.
But when he lifted that terrifying scythe of his, there was no soul to sever.
The rope finally snapped and the the wooden beam over the man's head gave way before his neck did.
The man pulled himself from his body, looked over his body silently.
Then the man turned to Oberon.
There was no fear in his dark eyes. This had been a very thoughtful death.
Good morning, said Oberon.
"Are you the Grim Reaper?" asked the man in a thick, northern accent.
That is one of my names, said Oberon.
"Afterlife, huh?" the man mused.
I regret to inform you that your soul has been stolen, Oberon regrettably informed the man.
"What?"
Humans are quizzical, thought Oberon.
Oberon explained, You will not have an afterlife. Your soul is gone. Your soul has been stolen.
"What?" tried the man again in disbelief.