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Death and Tobias Fletcher (short story)

Tobias Fletcher was 32 years old. He was the kind of man most people just forgot. This was because if a single adjective could be used to describe the totality of his existence, it would be “average”. Not terrible, not useless, just average. From his mousey brown hair to his neutral (almost passive) facial features, nothing about Tobias really stood out.

He spent his days as a data entry specialist (corporate speak for paper-pusher) at Magnus Actuarial Management, a mid-size firm with an office on the edge of the city in which he lived. He’d done so for the past five years. Often, while looking at the screen in his cubicle, Tobias’s mind would drift into a fantasy, almost always the same one. In it, he would abandon his humdrum life of data entry, go back to school and become a real actuary.

He’d been thinking about this for a long time, motivated in part by the crush he had on Clara Walcott, a girl who worked in accounts down the hall. When someone in the office had a birthday, it wasn’t unusual for Tobias to be left without a slice of cake – not because of any undue cruelty on the part of his fellow employees, it was just that in their minds, he was closer to a piece of furniture than an actual person.

Clara was different though. Where the others mostly seemed to look right through him, Clara took notice. They would sometimes have lunch together and she’d ask with genuine interest about what he did when he clocked out. She had hair so blonde that it cast a pearly shimmer when it caught the light and she’d regularly smile at him with an affectionate twinkle in her deep green eyes.

Tobias had a feeling that Clara wanted to be more than friends and although the comfort of familiarity and routine had prevented him from pursuing a brighter career path, he realised that if he wanted to get serious with her, he would have to be more of a go-getter.

So early one Monday morning, Tobias resolved that when he got to work, he’d go see his supervisor, Mr Crenshaw and give him his month’s notice, then find a part-time job which would allow him the freedom to attend lectures during the day (it would mean living on a tighter budget, but at least he’d be able to pay for college from his savings).

Now, on the day when he’d finally decided to change his life, here he stood at the intersection just outside the office, somehow staring down at his own body as a small crowd began to form.

The Uber driver who’d hit Tobias as he moved along the crosswalk was a generally decent guy. He’d only tried to jump the red light because he was late picking up a fare at the airport. He sat on the pavement a short distance from his car with his head in his hands. The hood and front grille were crumpled and dented, the windscreen crisscrossed with a spider web of fractures and the man on the tar in the neat button-down shirt and business slacks was quite obviously dead.

Tobias hadn’t given much thought to what would happen at the end of his life. He figured it’d be like a light being flicked off – one minute you’re here and the next, you’re just...gone. He certainly hadn’t expected to hang around after the fact and now had no idea what to do.

After coming to terms with the fact that it actually was his own corpse lying in the road, limp and awkwardly positioned by the impact – he strode along the front line of the crowd, trying to get someone’s attention. Even for a man who was used to going unnoticed, the results were unnerving. No matter what he said or how loudly he said it, none of them so much as cocked their heads in his direction.

“They can’t hear you, dude,” said an oddly soothing voice, “It’s part of the deal, usually.”

Tobias turned, a little startled by the act of recognition. Near him stood a tall young man (no older than 25) with slightly scruffy hair of the deepest obsidian. He wore 80s sunglasses, jeans, white running shoes and a blue shirt emblazoned with the words, “Don’t worry, be happy.”

“If they can’t, why can you?”

“Why do you think?”

Tobias paused, “Hang on, are you...the Grim Reaper?”

The man grinned and briefly pushed his shades up to reveal eyes that glowed an unearthly blue. “I’m pretty easy-going, most days.”

Tobias noticed then that the man had tattoos, elegant doves in flight, one on each forearm.

“You don’t look at all like I would have expected.”

“I get that a lot. I don’t always look like this either. I try to take forms that won’t freak people out too badly.”

“So you never show up as a skeleton in a long robe, carrying that big pointy thing?”

He grinned again, “Not really, no. But between you and me, I’ll do it sometimes, just to fuck with an edgy goth kid who took things too far.” His face took on a more serious expression and he said, “Time to head out now.”

Just then, Clara screamed “Tobias, no!” She’d walked up just as the ambulance arrived and was now crying quietly as she watched the paramedics load his broken body into the rear, under a clinical white sheet.

“Clara, shit.” Tobias muttered, suddenly reminded of the situation’s gravity. “Look, man. That girl over there is someone special. Could you give me some time to say goodbye?”

“Afraid not, friend. It would only make things harder, trust me on that.”

Tobias hung his head, his face stricken with the grief of loss.

“It’s rough, I know,” Death said kindly. I can’t let you talk to her, but if you want, I’ll give her a final message.”

Tobias thought for a while, looked up with a rueful smile and said, “Tell her ‘Thank you for being the one who saw me.”

“Cool, can do.” The dove on Death’s right forearm rose silently from his skin as a fully formed bird, perched there for a moment and then really did take flight towards Clara, her eyes still streaming.

As it drew near, the dove became a beam of pure white light. Warm and benevolent, it passed directly into her chest. Clara swayed a little on her feet and even though tears stained her cheeks, she smiled sweetly.

“She knows,” said Death, patting Tobias on the shoulder. “Now we really gotta hit the road. Oh, uh, no pun intended. Just follow me.”

As he walked, Tobias looked back at Clara one last time with a feeling of bittersweet joy. The space ahead of him then began to ripple and fold, like a curtain being slowly pulled back before a vast and immeasurable distance beyond.

Looking at Death, he said, “You know, for the personification of the Ultimate End, you’re a nice guy.”

“Customer satisfaction guaranteed,” answered his strange guide with another grin.

And on they walked. 

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