33rd Release * Voice
Death. When natural, it is the most natural event that can occur. It is completion, a finale, the last resounding note of the symphony of your life played out. You go back to the universe from which you came.
[There's the snap-hiss of a lighter and the drag of a cigarette.] At least that's how the philosophers put it.
But really, it can be the simplest and most painless of procedures. Imagine a quiet room, music if you like, some even choose the sounds of nature... birds, wind and the like. Light is optional as well, some like candlelight, some prefer darkness, some a favorite lamp, it's really your choice. My preferences rarely come into play, which is a shame because it's my sanity that's on the line, you always end the same.
[There's a pause, another drag on the cigarette, an exhale, and what sounds like an oft-repeated phrase.] But death is a service, and I am to serve, so your release will be your own.
There can be words said at the time if you like, and guests are allowed if you don't wish to be alone, but in the end it will only be you and me and your final moment of existence. Honestly, every time I've done this the words and guests... well, it's for the families, those left behind. [There's a note of derision creeping in.] So they can feel better, it's really not for you at all. But if it's chosen, the words are said, the good-byes, the pieces of poetry, the speeches. Everyone tries to mitigate the tears, but if there are guests, they're often inevitable. And then we begin.
[This pause is longer, and the soft clink of ice in a glass.] There is always touch. A physical connection between you and me. A touch of hands, mine in yours, on your face, your chest, I've even grasped someone's feet once, although I did insist on a thorough cleaning first - I do have some say in these things. But once the connection is made, properly I might add, once it is made properly... it's like falling asleep in the arms of a cherished lover. You will feel me, my heart, my breathing, blend with yours. They will slow. You may be a little cold, after all the warm blood is slowing in your veins, but the feeling's temporary. At this point, everything's temporary. Your very mind will drift, be removed, pulled away and into mine... you won't even feel it when I stop your breathing and your heart... you'll just... fall... asleep.
And your memories will be stuck in my head until I can eject them, but you won't care... you'll have moved on to the next realm. Or whatever in Hades you believe in. Either way, you're dead and I'm onto the next.
But please, if that doesn't answer your questions about a Reaper's task, please ask. Apparently, it's all I wish to discuss today. In great length. With the slightest of provocation.
I'm sure we're all thrilled. [Hear that sarcasm?] I know the shop clerk was.
Of course, I doubt my death was as peaceful, but I'll never know since some coward took even that away from me.
But if I might return to the real reason I've posted, I'd like to say thank you to Rudy and Rido for volunteering to assist me earlier. Dorian as well. I'm back home, and I'll be returning to work soon.
[There's the snap-hiss of a lighter and the drag of a cigarette.] At least that's how the philosophers put it.
But really, it can be the simplest and most painless of procedures. Imagine a quiet room, music if you like, some even choose the sounds of nature... birds, wind and the like. Light is optional as well, some like candlelight, some prefer darkness, some a favorite lamp, it's really your choice. My preferences rarely come into play, which is a shame because it's my sanity that's on the line, you always end the same.
[There's a pause, another drag on the cigarette, an exhale, and what sounds like an oft-repeated phrase.] But death is a service, and I am to serve, so your release will be your own.
There can be words said at the time if you like, and guests are allowed if you don't wish to be alone, but in the end it will only be you and me and your final moment of existence. Honestly, every time I've done this the words and guests... well, it's for the families, those left behind. [There's a note of derision creeping in.] So they can feel better, it's really not for you at all. But if it's chosen, the words are said, the good-byes, the pieces of poetry, the speeches. Everyone tries to mitigate the tears, but if there are guests, they're often inevitable. And then we begin.
[This pause is longer, and the soft clink of ice in a glass.] There is always touch. A physical connection between you and me. A touch of hands, mine in yours, on your face, your chest, I've even grasped someone's feet once, although I did insist on a thorough cleaning first - I do have some say in these things. But once the connection is made, properly I might add, once it is made properly... it's like falling asleep in the arms of a cherished lover. You will feel me, my heart, my breathing, blend with yours. They will slow. You may be a little cold, after all the warm blood is slowing in your veins, but the feeling's temporary. At this point, everything's temporary. Your very mind will drift, be removed, pulled away and into mine... you won't even feel it when I stop your breathing and your heart... you'll just... fall... asleep.
And your memories will be stuck in my head until I can eject them, but you won't care... you'll have moved on to the next realm. Or whatever in Hades you believe in. Either way, you're dead and I'm onto the next.
But please, if that doesn't answer your questions about a Reaper's task, please ask. Apparently, it's all I wish to discuss today. In great length. With the slightest of provocation.
I'm sure we're all thrilled. [Hear that sarcasm?] I know the shop clerk was.
Of course, I doubt my death was as peaceful, but I'll never know since some coward took even that away from me.
But if I might return to the real reason I've posted, I'd like to say thank you to Rudy and Rido for volunteering to assist me earlier. Dorian as well. I'm back home, and I'll be returning to work soon.