Everything that starts with U ...

Death was not happy, in fact he was downright miserable. A normal state of affairs for the Grim Reaper, you may think. But for millennia he had been happy in his work. Bringing people into the fold, either willingly or with a struggle. That had been the part he had enjoyed most, the not knowing which ones would put up a fight. The frail old lady who would beat him around the head with her walking stick or the muscle bound hero who would wet himself and faint dead away. He had loved his job, but now all of a sudden it didn't seem so rewarding. Was he ready for a career change? He thought he might be but employment opportunities were scarce for a Grim Reaper who's only entry in his CV for the past millennia would be soul collection. As he held the monopoly on the position and had done it forever, it would be very hard to find a replacement. There were not many positions vacant down here anyway, most tended to be very long term and even if he found one he liked the look of, he didn't fancy retraining at his age.
He was realising that he was outdated, in fact down here he was becoming a figure of ridicule. Oh yes he heard the sniggers behind his back, heard the snide comments about his robes and his pale skin.
'How does he stay so pale with all the heat down here?'
' He wants to get out more, he looks positively ill.'
They were not scared of him down here; after all they were all dead so he held no fear to them. In fact most of them, once they had settled in were more than happy in their lot.
The endless parties and even the odd orgy if you were really lucky filled their time, not that Death ever got invited to that sort of party, the hosts thought his presence might bring a bit of a downer on proceedings.

It had been suggested to him that he bring his appearance up to date. Get himself a smart suit and trade in his scythe for an Uzi. Yeah right as if that would work. His clients would think the Russian Mafia had come to call. No he had his reputation to think of. The black robes and scythe were his trademark, his identity. There was no way he could change that. Even if he wanted too there was no way he could move on with the times and what was worse he knew that his bosses thought that and were looking into ways of bringing his job up to date. There were even rumours going round that a hologram would do the job quite nicely or maybe in this day of political correctness a woman should be given the role. Bring the softer touch to proceedings, maybe it would bring up the numbers too. Afterall who really wanted to be scared to death and brought down here, wouldn't it be better to have an advertising campaign, maybe a buy one get one free offer, bring a friend with you.

Oh yes things were changing and Death was being left out in the cold. Upstairs was no longer happy with the way he brought in the customers either. Ok they had only just discovered his trading practices. He did wonder that it had taken them so long to find that out, after all how did they think people turned up at the pearly gates? Did they think that they heard about the trip at their local travel agents and booked for an extended holiday?
He did wonder how upstairs remained so popular, the way it was run. Maybe it was time for the Boss up there to take a more active roll again. The middle management seemed to be making a right mess of it as usual.

When he had taken this job it had been mis-sold, he was in no doubt about that but unfortunately there was no ombudsman he could go to get compensation. A job for eternity, complete security, company car and a good pension plan. What need did he have for a pension? He was never going to reach retiring age; in fact he didn't age at all. And as for the car, how stupid was that, there weren't any roads down here.

As he pondered he had been idly flicking through a holiday brochure, not taking in what he was looking at. The picture of a Sunkist, palm lined beach, meeting the blue sea that gently lapped the shore. Of course that was the answer. He needed a holiday. Some time away from the office. One problem though he didn't know how to have a holiday. What did one do on a holiday? Judging by the pictures in the book, as little as possible. That sounded good to him.

Never one to procrastinate he went straight away. Of course there was no problem with travel, he had free reign to go where he pleased, or where the dying were anyway.

Arriving at the tropical island, he immediately fell in love with it. His usual visits to the surface were busy ones. He didn't get the chance to do any sightseeing.
As he was the only one in his department management jaunts were thin on the ground and as the other departments tended to ignore him anyway he didn't get invited to any interdepartmental outings.
So this was a first and he didn't have a clue what he was supposed to be doing.
He was creating quite a stir, standing as he was on the seafront in black coverall robes and holding his scythe. The locals were starting to panic, having Death pop up in their midst was not the sign that it was going to be a good day. Death didn't notice or at least if he did he chose to ignore it.

The sea looked inviting so he hitched up his robes and made his way to the waters edge and gingerly put his toes in the water. Nice. Taking a few more steps into the water he looked around taking in his surroundings. He had never realised how beautiful it was up here.
He did briefly wonder where all the people had gone but guessed they must have all had something urgent to do.

It was getting hot standing there in his robes so he thought he had better get some clothes more in keeping with the holiday atmosphere. There was a surf shop at the head of the beach so he made his way to it and was surprised that there didn't seem to be anybody serving. With a shrug he selected a blue Hawaiian shirt and an orange pair of Bermuda shorts and made his way to the changing room.
Standing in front of the mirror he surveyed his new outfit. He was pleased. It certainly made a change from black and the light fabric had a nice feel to it. He added a nice pair of sandals to complete his new look and nodded. He was ready for anything now.
As there was no assistant around he guessed that it must be a help yourself day so collecting up his robe and scythe he put some money on the counter and went back outside. The bright sun hurt his eyes so he popped back in for a pair of shades. That was better. He had thought to pick up a towel as well and now felt ready to enjoy the beach.

After a lovely day on a deserted beach he began to feel in need of a rest and so thought he had better find himself a room for the night.
There was a large hotel at the back of the beach, which he thought, looked nice and he decided to take a room there. It was a grand; five star hotel and looked expensive. Of course that didn't matter to Death, he could magic up any funds he wanted. Afterall he had several millennia of unspent wages to play with. So he decided on a suite, complete with waterbed and Jacuzzi bath.
'Are you feeling alright Sir?' Asked the receptionist as she took in his skeletal, pale features and a nervous look at the scythe in his hand. 'Would you like me to lock away you're er whatever it is for you Sir?' We do not allow weapons in this hotel.
Handing over the scythe he made his way to his room. Flinging himself onto his bed he smiled. That was a first and he found he quite liked it so he did it again.
Standing he made his way to the balcony and looked out across the ocean. Looking down he could see that the population had returned to whatever they were doing now, probably thinking they had been out in the sun too long and had imagined the black robed harbinger of doom.
Death didn't care, for the first time ever he was truly happy. It was a completely new emotion for him and he thought he was going to like it.

Next morning he was once again on the beach, strolling along the water's edge. He wasn't really thinking about anything much, just enjoying the moment.
Days passed, he felt rested, relaxed and was really enjoying himself. He was even getting a little colour in his cheeks.
One evening, a few days later he was sitting in the dining room, having just finished an excellent meal when he happened to see a lady writing postcards. That's a thought maybe I had better send a postcard. He thought to himself.
So he bought one from the foyer and looked at it. Who was he going to send it to? Thinking that led to another. He wondered if anyone had missed him. They might not have missed him but they had probably noticed a lack of new souls in the last couple of weeks.
He started to write.

Dear all,
Having a great time. Sun sea and siesta. Wish you were here.
Love from Death.

That looked good. He wondered how much postage he would need for the underworld but thought it might cause a bit of a stir if he asked, so he decided to send it on the infernal mail system instead.

Over the next few days he tried his hand at watersports and mixed in walks along the shore. He even took a trip into town to buy presents to take home.
He thought his boss might like a pair of shorts like he was wearing and he bought sticks of rock with Barbados written through the middle to hand round the office.

He had been there nearly a fortnight and was beginning to feel that maybe he had better start thinking about getting back. He was conscientious really and the thought of all those souls waiting to take their final trip made him think that his holiday might be nearly over. He had enjoyed himself though and made the decision there and then that he would be doing it again.

He checked out and collected his scythe and vanished back to the underworld.
When he arrived it struck him as strange that nothing had changed although he did have that feeling of relief at being home that we all get upon arrival.
But something had changed. It was his attitude.
'Morning.' He said to a passing colleague.
An astounded look appeared on the others face, Death had never spoken to anyone before and what did he think he looked like in that shirt and shorts.

© Docpov April 2006