March 5th
Hello, my friend. There was another that fell into my care today. A young man by the name of Franklin. He was spry and witty and seemed enamored by the world around him. You can imagine my curiosity when he came upon the flask by the river while walking with his brother to the market.
It was unusual, to say the least, seeing someone like him cling onto that thing. The usual people who possess my charge are tragic and defeated, using the flask as if it were a raft keeping them afloat in the rapids of their lives. He saw it as a glass, through which he could refract and display the light that he knew he had inside of him.
Franklin found it caked in dried mud, tarnished, and dented. He spent this day cleaning it, polishing it, and bringing it back to a beauty that I didn't think I would see again. How I wish you could have seen the smile on his face as he gazed upon it glinting in the golden light of the setting sun.
How I wish then, that you had been there to witness his final moments with me. That same evening, he had decided to get the flask filled in town, where a group of men were in conflict with one another. A stray shot fired brought an end to Franklin's life. I wish that you had been there with me, not to witness his demise, but to witness the joy that he had upon seeing his restoration being useful again.
His family will mourn and remember him. So shall his friends. So shall I.
Your friend,
Mortis
YOU ARE READING
The Reaper's Almanac
Short StoryThree Reapers shepherds souls upon death and ensure the soul's survival by remembering them through letters they send to each other.
