The Reaper's Almanac

Eden: 2nd Letter

My Dear Fellow Reaper,

I have been assigned a new charge; can you believe it? A new charge! After so many years of being with my shiny, dainty, and beautiful diamond, I have been assigned a bullet. A BULLET! I don't want to specify what type of bullet because frankly, I could care less.

I am appalled. Imagine going from the hardest piece of the most beautiful, purest rock to ever behold this entire plane of existence, to one of the most fragile, violent, one-time use only piece of hot mess of a war garbage? I am livid. But I suppose being a chronicler of a life once lived, taking charge of such a masterpiece of mass wreckage would make sense.

It's odd though. As an instrument made to take a life, my charge reminded its possessor of their survival. My charge remained unused during its time with Jeremy King. A young man drafted as a soldier to serve his country from the frontlines. His platoon was only eighteen men strong: the only ones remaining alive from its original fifty, within a group of five batches. A far cry as opposed to their enemy of hundreds. Most of the men with him were new to the battlefield, save from his commander and three others. They received their order to retreat, and their troop was to leave second to the last. As their orders were radioed in, troop by troop they started to leave, all the while continuing to hold off their enemies and allow more to escape. But for how long could they. with their dwindling numbers with mostly amateur soldiers, be able to hold off? In the end they were surrounded, with their communication line cut off and their radio destroyed. You would imagine the thought that went through these young warriors' minds. That's where my charge was supposed to act on its role. The last bullet, sitting in its chamber, is ready to pass through the barrel of the gun. Their last resort for salvation. And then it happened: an air strike to aid the escape of the soldiers trapped within enemy lines. They were saved.

Jeremy went home. Albeit broken and returning half his weight, carrying the horrors of the battlefield upon his shoulders, he strived to have a better life, past the trauma, past the pain, and heal. He married the nurse who took care of his heart and mended his body, invigorated his spirit, and refueled his life. They bought a lovely, cozy home together and had four beautiful children: three boys and one girl. He got to see his grandchildren and tell them stories about his very own adventures. It was very serene, and I had the honor and privilege to witness it until he took his very last breath in the presence of his loving family. And as I saw his life dwindle from his eyes, I saw true happiness, I saw joy, I saw love.

Ever sincerely yours,

Eden