1927: Steven Gray

He came out wailing, his barren gums bared for all the world to see. “Mr. and Mrs. Gray, you’ve got a beautiful son,” the doctor said. The woman’s face beamed bright enough to light the hospital room, and her husband’s face matched.

“His name is Steven,” said Mrs. Gray. The father nodded his approval.

In the corner of the room, where the shadows were darkest, two figures stood and watched the scene before them. One was tall, pale, robed in dark grays and blacks. He had a set of magnificent silver eyes. The other, a woman, was beautiful in every way, from her shining white hair to the complexion of her skin. Her eyes shone a brilliant blue, like the sky on a warm Autumn day. “It’s always so wonderful,” the woman said.

“Hmm,” responded her dark companion.

“Come on, Grim, lighten up a little. You of all people should appreciate this.”

“I do appreciate it, Eose, but I have work to do here.”

The woman paled suddenly, all the light of her eyes going out and darkening. “You have work to do here? Which one is it?”

The man pointed at the elated mother. “I wanted to give her a moment with the child before I take her. I—”

“How dare you! Why didn’t you tell me?”

The baby’s crying was coming to an end, his mother’s soft voice comforting the child. “There, there, Steven. Don’t cry. Listen to mommy…”

“Don’t get mad at me, Eose.” His eyes were shining bright and silvery white, and he barely kept the full fury of his voice under control. “It is written and it must be followed. I cannot disobey.”

“You dare not disobey, brother.” She glared at him with a dark expression. He stared back. Finally, she broke the silence. “I’ve done my Task, you do yours. I’m leaving.” With that, she vanished into the shadows, leaving Grim alone with his Task in a room overflowing with joy. His shoulders sagged, as if he was pressed upon by a terrible burden.

He stepped out of the shadow and next to the woman on the bed. Her eyes looked into his silver eyes and realization dawned across her face. “No…please. Don’t.” The woman cried out suddenly in pain and the doctor rushed up to her. Her eyes were staring blankly off beside her bed. She began convulsing.

“What’s happening?” demanded Mr. Gray.

“I’m not sure. She didn’t appear to have any problems from the delivery.”

The baby began crying again, his eyes wide with fear. A nurse patted him gently.

“Don’t worry, child. I am not here for you,” Grim said reassuringly.

“Don’t. No. Please.”

“Get me the paddles now. She’s going into cardiac arrest.”

“Helen! Helen!”

Steven continued to cry as the doctor worked fruitlessly on the lifeless body of his mother.

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This is a work of fiction tentatively titled 21 Deaths and Grim, A Portrait of Life. The first post is available here, and the follow up is here, if you're interested.