Page 22 of Guarded By the Reaper

I went back into the house, the familiar silence enveloping me. The patrol had been uneventful, save for that one Poppet who’d decided to have a staring contest with me. As I moved through the darkened hallways, a soft glow from the living room caught my attention.

Millie was there, curled up on the couch with a glass of wine in hand. The house was quiet, which meant Elysia had gone to bed. Millie looked up as I entered, a small smile playing on her lips.

“Hey,” she said. “How was the patrol?”

“Boring,” I replied, moving closer. “The Poppets are keeping their distance for now.”

She nodded, taking a sip of her wine. “That’s good, I guess.” She paused, then asked, “What’s your favorite movie, Grim?”

The question caught me off guard. It had been a long time since anyone had asked me about my preferences. “The Gold Rush,” I answered after a moment’s thought.

She raised an eyebrow. “Charlie Chaplin?”

“Yeah,” I said. “The one with the shoe.” I almost smiled, remembering the image of Chaplin eating his own boot with such gusto.

“Really?” Millie patted the spot beside her. “Come on, sit. Let’s watch it together.”

I hesitated for a moment, then sat down next to her. Millie leaned forward, searching for the movie on her streaming services. As she scrolled, I caught a whiff of her shampoo – floral and light.

“Found it!” she exclaimed, pressing play. She settled back onto the couch, tucking her legs under her and pressing close to my side. The opening credits rolled, and I felt a strange tightness in my chest.

As the movie played, I found myself not watching the screen, but Millie’s reactions. Her eyes lit up at the slapstick comedy, her lips curved into a smile at the tender moments. It was like seeing the film through new eyes. But about halfway through, Millie’s head drooped onto my shoulder. Her breathing evened out, and I realized she was falling asleep. Carefully, I shifted to cover her shoulders with my cloak. She snuggled closer, murmuring something unintelligible.

I couldn’t help but smile. Silent movies weren’t for everyone, especially not in this age of constant stimulation. But there was something pure about them, something that spoke to the human condition without needing words. As the familiar scenes played out, my mind drifted back to 1925, when I first saw this film. I was a different man then – or rather, still a man. The war had left me scarred and struggling, but I was alive. Barely scraping by, but alive.

I remembered saving pennies for weeks, going without meals just to afford a ticket. The theater was a respite from the harsh realities of my life. For an hour and a half, I wasn’t a disfigured veteran begging for work. I was just another face in the crowd,laughing along with everyone else. That day was the last good memory I had before everything fell apart. The room I’d been renting went to someone who could pay more. With nowhere to go, I ended up on the streets. My war injuries made me a frightening sight to most, and no one was willing to give me a chance. Two long, brutal years passed. I watched as society moved on, leaving behind those of us who’d given everything to our country. The irony wasn’t lost on me – I’d survived mustard gas only to die of exposure and hunger on the streets of the country I’d fought for.

And then, just when I thought it was all over, I got a job offer. From Death.

It was a hell of a career change, going from homeless veteran to Grim Reaper, but Death didn’t care about my scars or my past. They only cared that I could do the job.

A soft snore from Millie brought me back to the present. She was drooling slightly on my cloak, but I didn’t mind. There was something comforting about her presence, about the warmth of her body against my cold form.

On screen, the Little Tramp was dancing with his dream girl, blissfully unaware that it was just a fantasy. I felt a pang in my chest, recognizing the longing in his eyes. How long had it been since I’d allowed myself to dream like that?

Millie shifted in her sleep, her hand finding mine. Her fingers intertwined with my bony ones, and I felt that strange tingling sensation again. It was as if her touch was bringing me back to life, one cell at a time.

The movie played on, but I barely noticed. I was lost in thought, remembering the man I used to be and wondering about the man – if one could call me that – I’d become. Had I changed as much as I thought? Or was there still a trace of that hopeful young soldier buried deep inside me?

Chapter Twelve

Millie

I woke up with a start, blinking away the haze of sleep. The credits were rolling on the TV screen, the black and white text a blur to my tired eyes. Grim was beside me, and I was tucked safely under his cloak.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I mumbled.

I stumbled to my feet, the world tilting slightly as I made my way to the bathroom. The cold tile under my bare feet helped wake me up a bit. As I washed my hands, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess, and there was a faint imprint on my cheek from where I’d been leaning against Grim’s cloak.

On my way back to the living room, something caught my eye. A face in the window. I froze, my heart skipping a beat. It couldn’t be... Could it? I stepped closer, my hand reaching out to pull back the curtain.

Mom.

She was there, just outside, looking at me with those warm eyes I’d missed so much. A lump formed in my throat, and before I knew what I was doing, I was running. I barely registered Grim’s surprised shout as I bolted past him and out the front door.

The night air was cool against my skin, but I hardly noticed. All I could focus on was Mom, walking away from me. I followed, my feet carrying me across the damp grass without a second thought.

“Mom!” I called out, but she didn’t turn around. She just kept walking, leading me towards the rose garden.

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