Luther and the Lamppost

Luther turned to him. "What the hell'm I supposed to do now?"

"Since you mention it, that is a possibility."

Luther frowned. "What's a possibility?"

"Hell."

"Oh."

"But there seems to be a problem, even with that."

Luther hesitated. He didn’t understand, not certain he wanted to know the answer. "A problem?"

The hooded apparition sighed again. "I do wish they would not make things so complicated. This was scheduled as a simple pick-up and transport. And now…"

"And now?" asked Luther. Eyes narrowed, he peered, trying to see inside the hood. A quick glimpse made him jump back, his already pale, ghostly face a shade whiter. The brief view had been of infinite space, devoid of light, but space filled with terror and horrible shapes. Shapes that writhed and twisted, and mouthed silent screams.

Luther backed up and passed completely through a lamppost. Startled, he lost his balance and grasped at the post. His hand passed through it as well, and he almost fell to the ground.

"Son-of-a-bitch," he said.

"Possibly," said the visitant "But I have never met the woman."

Luther regained his balance, if floating through lampposts and righting oneself could be considered balance. Unfortunately, his mind also remained an unfathomable distance from being balanced, and teetered precipitously on the edge of blubbering insanity.

Finally, the swirls in his head settled to the floor of his mind, and he said, "But…this is not fair. I'm only twenty-nine years old. I've got a lot of living to do."

"All the young ones say that. It seems fair to me. The accident was your fault."

"I know, but…"

Curious onlookers gathered around the scene. They peered into the wrecked car, milled about, and walked into and through Luther. Irritated, he moved away. "Damned vultures."

The robed presence spoke. "I must be going now."

Luther whirled, eyebrows raised. "Going? Where?"

"I have a timetable to meet.”

“Can you stay a little longer? I have a lot of questions."

"That's not my job."

"What's not your job?"

"To answer questions. However, I am always interested in a good philosophical discussion. Are you familiar with the writings of Friedrich Nietzsche?"

"Neecha? Who's that?"

The cowled figure took a deep breath and turned away.

Luther panicked. "Hey, man. Don't go. Ah…What's that thing in your hand? Looks like an antique garden rake."

The hooded visage shook his head and turned back. “You young ones can be so trying. It is a scythe."

"What? A scythe?  That means…that means you're the Grim Reaper."

"Precisely."

"Oh, hell. Sorry. Didn't mean to use that word again. Then you're here to take me…to collect my soul?"

"Metaphorically speaking, yes, but as I said, there seems to be a problem."

"You said that before."

"I know. These days I find that I have to repeat myself constantly."

"Well?"

"You ask a lot of questions."

Luther's quick temper flared. "Yeah? I've never been dead before. Gimme a break, will ya?"

The Reaper stood without speaking for a few moments. Luther's nerves ratcheted up several notches, actually to one past the last available notch.

The specter said, "You were scheduled for a certain descent, if you understand what I mean. However, it seems that at the last moment, you have been placed in…shall we say, a state of limbo. I do not know why. Perhaps to prove yourself, possibly to give you an opportunity for an alternate eternity."

Luther paused a moment, then frowned. “In limbo? What the hell does that mean?"

"I do wish you would stop using that word. Minds can be changed you know, and I am already behind on my schedule."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry."

"I do not know the answer. I only have my instructions."

"Your instructions?"

"Yes. I am not to collect you at the moment, but to leave you here."

"To leave me here?"

"Yes, and now I must hurry. There has been an earthquake in Mongolia, and I am needed there."

"But what am I supposed to do?"

"I have no idea. I just do my job as instructed. No one ever tells me anything."

"But…?"

"Sorry, I must go. My carriage is waiting."

"But…?"

Disappointed, Luther watched as a dark carriage appeared, pulled by a massive, black horse. Its neck glistened with sweat. It snorted and tossed its head. The Grim Reaper opened the door, and climbed in. Noiselessly, they rode away and faded into nothingness.

Luther cursed and stamped his foot. He paused and tried unsuccessfully to kick the lamppost.

To a limited degree, he regained his composure and decided to sit and think about his predicament. A park bench sat directly in front of the lamppost. He sat and to his surprise, he sank completely through the bench. Only his head remained above the slats. He righted himself and carefully perched his vacuous body on the seat. He shook his head. I think it's gonna take a while to get the hang of this being dead thing. 

In the distance, sirens announced the approach of the emergency teams. Soon, firemen, police, tow trucks, and an ambulance arrived at the scene of his accident. Shortly thereafter, in the midst of organized confusion, policemen, fire fighters, tow truck drivers, and paramedics bustled about, shouting commands and bumping into one another. The group of curious onlookers continued to watch with morbid fascination.

Elbows on his knees, head in his hands, Luther remained seated and hovered a few inches above the bench. He turned his head and watched somewhat dejectedly as the paramedics transferred his body from the demolished car to the ambulance and left the scene. The firehouse guys look disappointed. Guess it's because they got dressed in all that gear, rushed down here with sirens screaming, and there wasn't a fire to put out. Too damn bad. They should have to deal with my situation.

The fire engine departed, a tow-truck loaded Luther’s mangled vehicle, and another hooked up the damaged truck. The police cars and tow-trucks drove away. The curious dispersed and Luther sat alone on the bench.

I never thought about being dead before. Haven’t ever heard anybody talk about it. But I’m beginning to think it sucks!

He sighed, rose, and stepped into the middle of the sidewalk as a man approached with a small dog on a leash.

Luther liked dogs, one of his few admirable traits.

"Hey there, fellow. That's a nice puppy you've got. What's his name?"

The man ignored him and continued to walk his pet. However, the dog looked up and growled. Luther instantly became angry.

"What the hell are you growling at, you little bastard?”

He turned to the man who walked directly toward him. "Hey, buddy. You've got a nasty little dog there. Hey? Watch where you're going."

The man did not respond and walked through Luther. The movement caused little wisps of his ethereal presence to float about, then rejoined and merged back into his body.

"Son-of-a-bitch. That asshole walked right through me, and he didn't hear or see me. Damn. I guess I really am a ghost."

Suddenly, he remembered the dog.

That damn mutt saw me. The nasty, little bastard even growled at me. Huh? Animals can see me? But people can't?

Luther returned to the park bench and sat, careful not to let his body sink through. He remained quiet for a while, thoughts jumbled. His mind soared with questions and possibilities.

That Reaper guy said I'm in limbo. Don't know what that means. Said he'd planned to take me to Hell, but the situation changed. Implied there was something different for me? But what? What comes next?