inkspots avatar


I’d imagined becoming a butterfly or a harp-playing angel or nothing at all following my death. It was a shock, therefore, when shortly after I died I found myself standing at a busy roadside, dressed entirely in black, clutching an equally black scythe. I had no idea what I was supposed to do now.

My heart (does a grim reaper still have a heart?) folded in on itself when I spotted Elena, my daughter, waiting to cross the road. She looked left, right, left again.

I knew exactly what I was supposed to do now. Would do, in fact.

2 comments add one below

  • avatar

    T. Willemann about 8 years ago

    Those who believe in guardian angels often seem to think of them as past relatives. Although that may be a sweet notion, I think your idea is far more interesting.

  • avatar

    Julie about 8 years ago

    Thank you both for your comments.

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