Death Wears A White Trench Coat
When I was in college, I heard a rumor about a man in a bar that was making deals, very Special deals. Now I am no fool, I have heard of Faust and his tragedy, and I knew of Midas and his touch and many other stories warning ‘Be careful what you wish for’, so I thought I knew enough to get what I wanted and keep me safe when I went into a, now closed, biker bar called Elysium and looked around for anyone who might seem a bit out of place. I saw the people you’d expect, the old bikers with their beards peppered with silver and white, the young bikers in matching leathers with a look about them that said they’d kick your ass without much provocation, I saw the lovely waitresses and bartenders with their tattoos and low-cut shirts. Then, I saw Him, lounging in a darkened corner booth alone; his feet crossed over one corner, with a bottle of whiskey and a pair of tumbler glasses. He was a young man, looked to be about halfway through his twenties, with short spikey black hair and his face had a pallor that would look more at home on a corpse. He was wearing a long white leather duster over an old Metallica t-shirt that sported the image of Lady Justice herself with the words, ‘…. And Justice for All,’ beneath her scales. He wore a pair of blue denim jeans with a gleaming chain made of a black metal that seemed to radiate cold hanging from his belt loop, and a pair of black leather riding boots with silver buckles and a pronounced heel. I took a deep breath and walked over to his secluded booth and stood waiting for him to acknowledge me. He didn’t look up or even move, he simply sat there in silence, his eyes closed, as if asleep. “Excuse me sir.” I asked quietly after what felt like an eon. He took a shot, savored the taste and sighed with a note of enjoyment before he took notice of me. “Well…. Aren’t you gonna sit down?” He asked in a soft voice, gesturing to the bench across the table, he made no move to take his feet off the table. “It’s rude to sit at another man’s booth without asking if your presence is even wanted.” I said, my voice coming out a dry croak, “Would you like some company sir?” An oppressive silence reigned for what felt like an eternity as the man’s glacial blue eyes looked me up and down. He softly began to chuckle, and a slow but wide smile spread across his lips. It wasn’t an evil laugh, it wasn’t even menacing, but it was a laugh that felt old and unused, like a note being struck on a piano left alone for years, haunting and yet a shadow of amusement and genuine surprise. “Now that, is funny.” He said as he carefully moved his feet off the table and gestured for me to sit across from him. I took my seat with careful and thoughtful movements, keeping my hands in my lap so that it wouldn’t be obvious that my knuckles were white. You must be very careful with predators, be they supernatural or otherwise. Showing fear of any kind or moving too fast, changes you from amusing young man to prey in a matter of heartbeats. I cleared my throat before asking in something resembling my normal voice. “W-what’s funny if I may ask?” “You kid,” He said dryly, “You’re funny. You aren’t that far into your twenties and yet you have respect. You have a mind for courtesies and manners. People of all ages have been barging in here demanding deals or accusing me of being a fraud. They’ve given me sob stories and cries of justice and yet YOU, someone who should be the portrait of impatience and impertinence, come in here with manners and etiquette.” He chuckled to himself as he poured a pair of shots and slid one over to me. I was about to refuse but it would be rude to turn down a kindness after being commended on my manners, so I picked up the shot and drank it quickly. The whiskey burned all the way from my tongue to my gut, but it wasn’t painful, in fact it was quite warm compared to the cold and rainy October night outside. I sighed happily and investigated the glass and saw a grinning skull etched into the bottom of it, I set it down with a shiver. “Thank you, sir, its most appreciated.” I said, speaking as if I were home again with my Marine father. “Of course, but don’t sir me. We are two men sitting in a bar; no more respect is needed than that. You may call me,” He paused, and thought for a moment, “Mortimer.” I opened my mouth to speak but before I could utter even a syllable, Mortimer spoke as he poured another pair of shots. “Now I know that you go by Tony, which is short for Anthony. You cannot stand your first name of Thomas because of your father and your family’s tradition of naming every first-born son Thomas, dating back to your four-time great grandfather Atticus, for whom your initials are in honor of and whose name you wish you had been given instead of Anthony.” Mortimer sipped at his glass, looking no more sinister than if he had said that the sky was blue and that it is quite cold in winter. I sat there in horror and fascination as this man had casually rattled off intimate details about my name and my inner thoughts. I didn’t dare move, for fear of him seeing how badly my hands were shaking. I couldn’t stop myself from asking the most obvious question. “H-how did y-you…” “Know all of that about you? My friend, you know who everyone claims that I am correct?” I could only nod my head slowly. “If I am indeed ‘The Reaper’, ‘Hades’, ‘Thanatos’, Death himself, then how could I not know?” He smiled at me and pulled the black chain, which was attached to a very heavy book, and gently laid it on the table and opened it. He quickly leafed through a few pages and laid his finger on the top of a page. “Ah, there, you, see?” I hesitated for a moment before looking at the page. Upon it, in a gently flowing spidery hand, were my full name, my date of birth, and a blank spot next to it. Mortimer quickly shut the book before my eyes could go any lower than the header of the page. “Now, now,” he said, in gentle reproach, “We can’t have you reading ahead in your own life’s story Tony. If you knew the ending you might try and make a liar out of me,” He smiled softly but it didn’t reach his eyes, “And I’m sure you already know how well that worked out for the many Greeks who tried.” He took the book, and I could only stare as it shrunk to the size of a cell phone and slipped it back into his pocket. “Now that my credentials are verified, shall we get to the reason of your visit?” I felt as if someone has stabbed me in the gut with an icicle the size of my arm. This was real, this was happening. Every instinct told me to run, to scream and flee as any sane man should when he sees Death before him. At the time I pushed all these thoughts from my mind and simply remembered what an old history teacher had once said to me, “History favors the bold.” Looking back, I should have listened to what my instincts were saying…. But I was stubborn, so hardheaded and sure that I knew what I was doing. “Mortimer, I have come to bargain with you.” I said with a steady quite voice. Mortimer chuckled softly to himself and nodded as he knocked back the rest of his shot. Again, he savored the flavor of the drink, sighed contentedly and set the shot glass back down. He steepled his fingers and narrowed his eyes on my face. “And what is it that you desire Tony? Wealth? Love? Influence?” As he went down his list each word was colder than the last, as if he hated the very idea of granting such trivial wishes. As I was about to answer him, he held up his hand for me to be silent. “No. I know what it is you wish. You want Knowledge.” All I could do was nod my head. He was right. Throughout my entire life all I ever wanted was to know why. Why the world was such a screwed-up place. Why people were so full of flaws and obvious stupidity. “You want something so much more dangerous than anyone else who has dared ask me for a bargain. I would gladly give you wealth… I’d even give you twenty years to enjoy it. For your manners I’d give you love, and I would only take ten years off your expectancy. You ask not for a boon my boy…. You ask for a curse. I can’t in good conscience give this to you for a price.” “Mortimer, I have come to bargain with you and my request is well within your power. As the Reaper there is no one more equipped to know why humans act the way they do. Name your price and I’ll gladly give it, but I can’t keep living in this world without knowing why. Please…. Just make a deal with me.” He looked at me with those cold blue eyes and I could see that he pitied me. If he did indeed know as much about me as his book implied, he knew that I couldn’t let this go. I also knew without a doubt that he knew my plans if he did not grant me my request. Suffice to say, I would see Mortimer again very soon should he deny me now. In the few short years of my adulthood, I have seen too many atrocities of man to turn a blind eye to. I have seen wars, I have seen genocide, I have seen the senseless slaughter of the innocent and I have seen the madness that has taken over the masses. I was young when the technology boom took off, but I remember well enough when people went outside to play, when friends were other people you saw and spoke to everyday instead of a flashing screen. I remember the joys of playing in the woods by myself, which is not tantamount to suicide in today’s world. I remember when you used to be able to travel freely to almost anywhere in the world, and then the two towers fell. I remember when faith was a tool that helped man understand the world and brought people together in times of need and now it is used to condemn people to Hell for who they love or what they believe. I needed answers, I needed closure. Mortimer sighed and nodded his head in agreement. “I know what your plan is Tony. I know your reasoning and I can’t deny your feelings. However, I can’t charge you for this…. But I can grant you a single, rule free, danger free request if you truly want this. Once you have the information you seek, you may ask me for anything.” “Mortimer, I agree to this bargain. Please… show me the answers I seek.” I asked beseechingly. “I grant you your……. Knowledge.” He said in a very solemn tone. He slowly reached out and put one finger to the center of my forehead. At first nothing happened. Then the spot under his finger began to grow uncomfortably warm and my mind was flooded with images and information. I saw the minds behind every action that led to the horrors of the world, I saw the reasons behind each act of malice, I saw the true motives behind each attack and war. My mind couldn’t take it. Even with all the answers the sheer stupidity of the world was staggering. Everyone wanted to be right, everyone wanted more than what was owed to them, and everyone had a petty grievance they thought entitled them to shooting up buildings of innocent bystanders. What filled me with horror the most was that there wasn’t some great evil behind all this madness, no growing sickness causing us to go crazy, no unseen hand of a mighty conspiracy pushing us towards enslavement and doom. What was causing the entire world to go insane was nothing more than our own overwhelming selfishness and our inability to look around and see the destruction all our petty desires and so-called needs were wreaking. The tidal wave of information finally subsided as Mortimer pulled way his finger. As he did, I felt tears streaming from my eyes and my mouth was open in a silent scream. I slowly closed my mouth, and I was surprised by how sore it was. I must have been that way for quite a while. As I turned to look at Mortimer, I saw the same thing I felt in my heart: overwhelming sadness and shear disbelief at the true answer the root of all the misfortune. I wiped away the tears and took a shuddering breath. He silently poured me another glass, this time much more than the first two, and passed it over to me. I downed it and tried to catch my breath. “Mortimer, I know my next request, and it is a very easy task for you.” I said, my words shaking but the conviction behind them as solid as steel. “Name it.” He said, his voice coming out as quiet as a breeze in a graveyard. “Take me with you, right now. I don’t want to be a part of this anymore. I don’t care what is waiting for me on the other side. Let me work for you or shuffle me off the fucking mortal coil. Just…. Just get me away from this world.” Mortimer smiled at me, a very sad but understanding smile and picked up a black helmet that I had not seen from under the table and held it out to me. I took it up as he stood and silently followed him out of the bar. The air was as cold as it had been when I had first arrived, but it felt different now, somehow welcoming and as we headed towards a white Harley, I couldn’t help but chuckle. Mortimer swung his leg over the bike and looked at me questioningly. “I’m sorry; it’s just too funny. I guess the bible got something right after all.” “And what would that be?” He asked with a quirked brow. “That Death rides a pale Horse.” I said simply. We both started laughing and this time it was filled with genuine mirth. I quickly put the helmet on and straddled the bike behind him as he kicked it to life. I had no regrets; I had no sadness in my heart and as I held on to the Reaper of Souls himself, I couldn’t help but remember a quote from one of my favorite books in my childhood. “He greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, as equals, they departed this life.” I said to myself and with a contented sigh I left the mortal coil and all the sadness and heaviness that accompanies it. Credit: Thomas A. 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