He snorted with disgust as he wiped crumbs from his lower jaw. His robes fluttered and clung below what pushed forward like a middle-aged paunch. He looked into his own eyes, a reflection in the hallway mirror of one more house, one more appointment to take the hand of someone on their way to eternity. He used to admire that profile but instead of a hero, now all he saw was an old spirit, weary from so much death, growing fat and slow from too many snacks left to welcome him.
It\’s amazing how a song can pull out visceral feeling. For those in the know, or those who saw a post I put on social media a few days ago, Blue Oyster Cult\’s Don\’t Fear the Reaper has been on my mind because I heard it whilst binging The Stand series. Last night, the title of this piece popped into my head and by this morning, I had a flash fiction piece. Funny how that happens. In the meantime, enjoy …