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"Grim "


Chapter 1
Grim

By Tara Maxfield

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.

O, Death

O, Death

Won't you spare me over til another year

Well what is this that I can't see

With ice cold hands takin' hold of me

Well I am death, none can excel

I'll open the door to heaven or hell

Whoa, death someone would pray

Could you wait to call me another day

The children prayed, the preacher preached

Time and mercy is out of your reach

I'll fix your feet til you can't walk

I'll lock your jaw til you can't talk

I'll close your eyes so you can't see

This very hour, come and go with me

I'm death I come to take the soul

Leave the body and leave it cold

To draw up the flesh off of the frame

Dirt and worm both have a claim

O, Death

O, Death

Won't you spare me over til another year

My mother came to my bed

Placed a cold towel upon my head

My head is warm my feet are cold

Death is a-movin upon my soul

Oh, death how you're treatin' me

You've close my eyes so I can't see

Well you're hurtin' my body

You make me cold

You run my life right outta my soul

Oh death please consider my age

Please don't take me at this stage

My wealth is all at your command

If you will move your icy hand

Oh the young, the rich or poor

Hunger like me you know

No wealth, no ruin, no silver no gold

Nothing satisfies me but your soul

O, death

O, death

Won’t you spare me over til another year

Won't you spare me over til another year

Won't you spare me over til another year

~Ralph Stanley, O' Death

One moment, Grim was lying in his bed debating with himself on whether he was ready to go to sleep or not, and then suddenly he was in the depths of a deep body of water. It was almost totally dark; and, although he couldn't feel the cold, he knew it was there. He tried to determine which way was up, and considered going for the surface out of instinct. It didn’t occur to Grim to wonder why he had come to be there or how he had got to be there. His life was full of surprises just like this one. Then something caught his eye. Several yards in the distance he noticed what seemed to be an unusually large and unnatural looking pile of rocks in the midst of what was even ground made mostly of silt, sand, and small scattered rocks with sparse vegetation. Grim was sure the rocks had moved. 

A bright beam of light cut across the path of his vision and stole his attention. It was a diver in scuba gear pushing a great bright light, which was now pointed directly at the same rock cluster. As the diver closed the distance, Grim could tell it was a woman. She took no notice of Grim and instead kept swimming toward the rocks. He wasn’t sure why he was so transfixed in his observance of the diver, but he slowly drew in closer to her wondering if she could see him or not. Grim moved parallel to the diver; and, just as she got within a few feet of the rocks, the cluster suddenly sprang up from the ocean floor like some primordial Jack in the Box and spread out its fin-like arms and enclosed her within them.

She seemed to try to scream and the regulator came loose, sending a steady stream of bubbles towards the surface and briefly obscuring Grim's view of the struggle. The woman thrashed about trying to get free, but the beast held tight. As the bubbles cleared, Grim's eyes met the bulging eyes of the diver, and he saw the horrifying gulping motion of the mouth trying to find air where there wasn't any to be had. The terror etched on the her face was a plea for help as well as to not let this be the end.

Grim reached out his boney hands and tried to find purchase on the creature's fins to pry her loose, but his hands couldn’t deter the beast from its deathly grip. Grim called to the beast over and over to let the diver go. He was desperate to save the her life until he realized there was no longer a life to save. All movement of the diver had stopped and the body was slack. The whole thing had played out in about a minute. Grim dropped his hands from where he’d been pulling on the beast’s fins and it released the diver, who slowly descended to the sea bed, bubbles still streaming from the regulator. 

Grim looked closely at her face and realized she was probably in her thirties. Her mask had went missing somewhere in the fray, and left behind open, glassy eyes with pupils fixed in a mixture of terror and shock. Her skin was blue-gray and although her facial features were set in that look of terror, she was a beautiful woman. Or, had been a beautiful woman. A few droplets of blood escaped her mouth before Grim looked away.

He turned his eyes towards the beast and studied its form. Out of all the animals of the Earth known to Grim, it seemed that it most closely resembled a manatee with its skin having the same texture and color, and its body having the same overall shape. But, it also had some human-like features. For instance, its face bore human characteristics with a slightly protrusive small nose front and center and a wide, human-like thin lipped mouth with teeth that were slightly set apart and a bit jagged. Its face drew down to the hint of a chin, but its head really just expanded rapidly into its trunk as it was absent a neck. Its eyes were closer together than most sea creatures have, and were forward facing and almond-shaped. Its trunk was heavy at the top and narrowed towards the bottom, where a very large and muscular fan shaped fin was separated by dense tissue spikes. Its elongated arms were very thick at the top and led down in cone-shaped forms to more large fan-like fins.

Grim thought it might be a reasonable assumption that somewhere in the course of time this creature and humans had a common set of ancestors. One simply chose the water, and one chose the land. Grim was speechless for a moment looking at the beast and then looking back at the dead diver as he processed what had just happened. The beast paid him no attention as it turned and started to swim away. 

"Why did you do that? Why did you kill that woman? She didn't do anything to you!" Grim screamed, and then came the realization he wasn’t screaming at all. He was communicating with the beast in a telepathic way. He also knew that a language barrier was being broken down and translated in their communications, as its language was very different from his own. How was this happening? Grim didn’t have even the beginning of an explanation. 

"It's none of your affair. Go back to where you came from, Devil. Or, if you are here for me, I welcome your mercy and will go willingly," the creature answered. It stopped swimming and drifted towards the sea floor, resigned to impending death.

Grim raised his hand and started to give him the finger, but recoiled as he heard Avi in his head, "Grim, no matter the circumstances, you must never take a life out of your own initiative. We do our job, but blood on your hands can never be washed off. Not only would you incur the wrath of the powers that be, I also think you could potentially create a paradoxical situation with a catastrophic end. At the least, innocents will likely die untimely deaths because of your lack of control. At the worst, the balance could be destroyed causing the end of us all. You see, you never can know what that person may be destined for; and, if they die at your hand prematurely, then that destiny will never be achieved. Our duty is to preserve the balance, and it is sacred. Do you understand? Don't ever do it. No matter what."

"Why did you kill her?" Grim asked the beast more calmly this time. 

"Because she would've told people about me and my kind. She would’ve brought more and more humans to look at me and marvel. They would eventually bring a net and take me away for humans to study and add more misery to my existence. Then they would look for more of my kind to imprison and torture in the name of science. It is an indignity that we cannot bear. For many years we've remained hidden, and we want to stay that way. She came to me, not me to her. I had to do it," the creature said bluntly and evenly as it slowly swam along the bottom of the sea. 

"Maybe she wouldn't have done that. You never gave her a chance! Why did she have to die for things she might do? Grim pushed for a better answer, although he knew there wasn't one. 

The creature stopped swimming and turned its body to lock eyes with Grim intensely.

Grim saw the blinding white light again, and found himself on a lush green knoll overlooking a rocky shoreline. The sea met the horizon line in a brilliant and colorful light display as the sun neared the sea in early evening splendor. Hundreds of men, women, and children in simple animal skins and coarse textiles were gathered together on the shoreline for some sort of celebration of ancient times. Some young women were singing in a language Grim didn't recognize, but it seemed to have a Gaelic sound to it.

Grim kept hearing the same word "Mur" repeatedly, until it was shouted out by a young man who was pointing to the sea. A large man stood from his chair with his hand over his eyes and scanned the surf. Then he slowly began to descend the beach towards the surf. He had a huge ragged scar that started on his forehead, went across his brow, and continued down his cheek at a slant. Grim realized this was the leader of these people, and he'd likely earned his position in the manner that got him that scar. He was obviously revered -- a chief, or a king, or maybe a holy man, and all eyes looked to him as all mouths became silent. He walked down over the rocks to the surf as more beasts like the one Grim had just encountered started to surface and make their way to the shallows, where they were half out of the water and standing upright on their tail fins. They stood almost motionless as the man waded through the surf towards the beast closest to shore.

There were big ones, smaller ones with heavy breasts, and a wide range of even smaller ones. They were families: fathers, mothers, and children. As the human closed in on the beast, he embraced him as one would a brother. With his arm still around him, he turned towards the land and gestured towards the quiet gathering on the beach. Upon the man’s gesture, a woman held aloft a tiny swaddled infant. The man was proclaiming to the beast that he had become a father. The beast nodded his approval and they had a happy exchange as they spoke in broken words to one another, each trying to speak the other's language and both doing it badly. This was the first time Grim had actually heard the Mur native tongue. It was beautiful. It seemed to Grim as though someone had taken the best of every language, improved it exponentially, and gave it to the Mur for their own. 

Finally shivering from the cold water, the man made for the shore while the Mur swam and played in the surf for a time. Both sides seemed in reverence of the other and it was obviously a planned and fine occasion to meet with one another. Smiles were on every face, and the feast on land began after what appeared to be a prayer by the human man. Baskets of fish were brought down to the sea for the Mur with much ritual, making it seem the fish were an offering or tribute.

As dusk fell, the Mur came together in a circle; and the last rays of light fell perfectly over them, making them glisten like diamonds against the dark backdrop of the sea. The setting was purely magical and Grim felt privileged to bear witness to this ancient rite. Then the Mur began to sing and Grim was instantly overtaken by emotion. It was a harmonious and otherworldly melody, starting slow in tempo and soft in sound until it reached a crescendo of voices and noises unlike Grim could ever have imagined. Although it wasn't in English, Grim could understand the meaning, as it was a universal tale as old as time itself. Grim thought that if there were really angels in heaven, they couldn’t ever have sounded like the Mur. The song told the story of the world and of all those who had passed through it. They sang in perfect unison; it was rich and haunting in the most eloquent of ways. Even the birds gave their attention, and were quiet until the song ended. Grim was so disappointed when it started to slow back down to a series of hums, indicating it was coming to a close. The song had been a euphoric experience, and Grim felt as though he could stay under the spell of the Mur song for eternity. But, the Mur simply went back down to their home, leaving only the one who’d talked with the man. He took one last look at the shore, and then he sank beneath the waves at the exact moment the light died out and darkness ruled once again.

                                                              * * *                                         

The bright light flashed once more, and Grim found himself on a rocky outcropping overlooking a village of stone-walled huts in the dark of night. There were animals in pens next to the huts and a well in the center of the settlement. It was quiet and still untilt the ground suddenly began to shake violently. In just moments, screams came from every home as their houses collapsed inward before they could even get out of bed. Boulders came racing down the hillsides in giant leaps and crashed down on the village. The shaking went on for several minutes, and the sounds of rock slides and the earth splitting apart were matched only by the screams of the injured and dying. Then Grim heard a deafening crack followed by an incredible boom. In the far distance, he could see where an unimaginably large volcano disguised as a mountain blew its top and one of its sides spectacularly. 

Grim knew he had to act fast, and ran towards the rubble of the hut closest to him. The scarred man from the feast was clawing his way out of the debris that had been his home. Grim reached out his hand, but the man didn’t seem to be able to see him or his hand. So, Grim just tried to take the man's hand; and, although he’d been able to grip the beast’s fins before while trying to save the diver, Grim’s boney fingers just passed right through the scarred man’s hand. It was as if it was made of air. It occurred to Grim his role in this tragedy was that of an observer, because it wasn’t really happening. He was witnessing an event that happened long before; and, in this replay, there was no impact he could have on the situation.

The scarred man dragged a bloody sack with him out of the ruins of his home as a fall of ash started descending upon the few survivors running around trying to save others. He screamed something, perhaps his wife’s name, over and over. As he cleared the rubble, the scarred man pulled the bloody sack to him and pushed aside the wrappings to look upon the face of his dead child. His woman emerged out of another opening covered in blood and holding one arm with a gruesome compound fracture to her. She was dragging one leg behind her and scooting on her side; and, when she got close enough to the scarred man that she could see their dead child, she simply stopped moving and lay back on the rubble and fixed her eyes above on the sky, never making a sound. The ash was falling so heavily now that the ground ceased to look like ground anymore. Instead, it looked like the surface of the moon. 

The survivors, mostly all seriously injured themselves, tried to find their loved ones, secure animals, and gather necessities amidst the destruction around them. They laid out the mangled and bloody dead, and the almost dead, in the center of the village around the central well. The injured cried, screamed in pain, prayed, and begged for help from those that were mobile. The rock falls continued without mercy while the ashfall gave way to ash mixed with hot pumice, which rained down in a final insult and lit patches of thatch that had served as roofs for their huts. The survivors who could still walk had no choice but to run for their lives, and leave the wounded behind. Grim looked towards the volcano, which had disappeared behind a rapidly advancing, giant wall of ash. 

The scarred man looked to his woman who still stared at the sky as red hot ash ignited her shift near her feet. The smoldering glow began to spread across her garment; still she never moved. The man began to tremble and then he threw back his head and sent to the heavens a guttural cry of anguish before laying his baby in the arms of its mother. As the man turned and ran for shelter in higher ground, the smoldering garment leapt into a full blaze around her and the infant. It subsequently ignited the thatch that lay around her in a funeral pyre mockery just as the pyroclastic flow rolled across the settlement. There were no more sounds from those that remained. 

Grim was unaffected by the flow and watched as it met his position. In the cloud of ash were bits of glass, lava, molten rock and flaming gas pockets that moved past him at very high and destructive speeds. He imagined it was very similar to being in the blast zone of a nuclear explosion. The people ran for the caves in the hills, hoping to find refuge there. Some made it. Some didn’t. As Grim saw the events that followed, he understood that those who died that night were the fortunate ones. 

In frames, he saw the clan remnants watch from a ledge leading into a cave high on the hillside as their village, their crops, their livestock… everything they had burned. Grim saw other small gatherings of survivors across the land digging in the inches and feet of ash fall, their starving bodies looking for a weed to chew on. He watched a woman with a starving, lethargic toddler in her arms jump from a cliff, desperate to end the nightmare. He saw the scarred man, who had been reduced to a near skeletal status on his knees below a thick cloud cover that blotted out the sun, eating rotten vegetation mixed with charcoal amidst the desolation of his homeland.

Another flash and Grim was in the bottom of the sea again, watching as the Mur suffered an equally horrific fate that day. Rocks rained down on them from higher ledges. Then the sea bed cracked and splintered; and, as the trench spread wide open, it sucked many Mur down into it in a sudden downcurrent. Rather than releasing the Mur once the trench had opened, it sent up corpses, hot gasses, minerals, and magma which turned the water into a boiling and toxic cauldron of death.

Many, many Mur died within the first twenty minutes of the event, but there was post-event collateral damage as had also happened with the humans. Areas of the sea were completely poisonous, but the poison couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. A Mur would be swimming along and they would unknowingly enter one of these pockets. By the time they realized something was wrong, they were already dying an agonizing death. The cataclysm had also caused many of the food sources of the Mur to dry up, and they had to go further and further to find hunting grounds. It would’ve been best if they could’ve just relocated the entire clan, but there were too many injured, too many young, and too many old ones for the few able-bodied adults that remained to be able to evacuate everyone. So, no one evacuated and every day there were less Mur. 

Another flash, and Grim found himself back on the rocky beach. It was similar to before in some features, but overall the topography had changed significantly. The previously beautiful beach now resembled an alien landscape with great black lava tubes, evidence of where the lava had flowed for miles into the surf. A much smaller clan of about a dozen humans hid behind rocks, looking out at the sea. But, this time there was no feast, no children singing, only battered individuals, who were shadows of their former selves, armed with nets and weaponry. In the forefront was an older and hardened version of the scarred man. Grim looked to the sea as the Mur emerged from its depths. Where before hundreds of Mur had come, this time there were only a couple dozen. After they came into the shallows and circled with faces upturned to the sky, they started to sing their song of the world again. The song was different this time though. It spoke of every sorrow a being could endure. 

Grim had once again been so transfixed by the song of the Mur that he hadn’t noticed the humans creeping down to the shore and into the water as the song of suffering ended. The humans suddenly descended upon the Mur, cutting off their escape routes, and slaughtered all they could with savagery and bloodlust. The humans dragged the carcasses to shore and built a great fire. They cooked their former friends in chunks on the ends of poles positioned along the sides of the fire. Then they ate ravenously of the meat. Scene after scene replayed of humans hunting the Mur who dared be glimpsed by a human eye. The humans had somehow resolved that the terrible events which preceded that day were caused by a direct and intentional act of the Mur. They didn't know of the Mur losses. They didn't ask. Perhaps, the starvation had perverted the peaceful and kind people they once were, so that they could justify the brutal extraction of their revenge. Maybe, their losses and struggles had driven them mad. Or, maybe they were just hungry. 

The sadness that washed over Grim was as heavy as it was deep. He watched through the eyes of the beast as his child was speared by humans right in front of him, and then taken to shore to be sold at market as a delicacy. His wife, tortured by the loss and overwhelmed in grief, swam to the shore and voluntarily gave her life, as did many others. The songs of the Mur were no more.

Grim came back to himself with a final flash of light as the beast broke his eyes away and went back to swimming. His message had been communicated, and the beast moved slowly, fatigued from the conveyance of memories too unspeakable to even imagine, let alone to have endured. Grim finally spoke to him with kindness and sympathy when he asked, "You were the scarred man's friend, weren't you? You led your people to the massacre, didn't you?"

The beast continued to swim, but very slowly and without observable aim. Finally, after a while, he found the words and answered Grim with, "Yes. And, for some cursed reason, I survived. I thought the purpose was that I had to protect those few others who managed to get away. I wish I wouldn't have every day. They are all gone now, too. And, still I remain. My living hell is a constant and just punishment for having been so foolish and failing my brothers and sisters."

"There’s none but you now?" Grim asked softly. He was absolutely traumatized by what he'd just witnessed. He couldn't imagine what this Mur still felt, as there was no amount of time that would lessen that kind of pain. 

"I don't know. Maybe a few dozen now in various places. All too cowardly to end our own existence honorably."

"Do you still gather and sing?" Grim winced at the inconsiderate stupidity of his own question as soon as it came out of his mouth. 

"What is there to sing about? We mate for life, so there are no new unions. We no longer procreate, so there are no new Mur. There's no joy. No family. No one to love. Just a few weary, scared impostors left awaiting a death too slow and stubborn to end our pain. So, do us a favor and get on with it."

"I can't... I'm not here for you," Grim said. 

"Then why are you here?"

Author Notes This is the first I've shared of Grim. There will be some mystery around him, and likely things the reader doesn't understand after reading the first chapter. It is intended.


Chapter 2
First Love. First Fight.

By Tara Maxfield

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.

A knock on my door took my attention from my homework.

"Yeah?" I said to the unknown brother outside my room.

"There's someone at the door for you, Daniel."

"Who is it?" I asked, irritated at the interruption.

"I don't know, but she seems upset."

Footsteps started to walk away from my door as I jumped up in panic. I put on my shoes as quickly as I could and hit the stairs running towards the front door of my frat house. Could it be her? I had only had someone at the door for me twice in the last 3 years. Both times, it was the campus Rabbi who'd been unable to get me on the house phone and who'd been sent by my relentless mother to check on me. Both times, I had failed to call her that day when I'd gotten in from class. She'd convinced herself that some terrible fate had befallen me and promptly called the Jewish Student Center.

Most guys called their parents once a week and that was just to ask for money. The two house phone lines were in the kitchen and were never answered. Their ringers were violently and permanently detached by a hungover brother a long time ago. I usually called her from the student center each day because there were chairs you could sit in while you talked and background noise was usually rated PG, very much unlike the noise at the house. But, this day, I'd called Mother already, so it had to be Meddie...my heart was beating out of my chest.

I took a breath and opened the door. Mascara caked around her eyes and black tears flowing, Meddie whispered, "I'm pregnant, Daniel." behind her cupped hand attempting to conceal the conversation from any potential witnesses.

I pulled her in the door of the house and ushered her up to my room. We only passed a couple of my brothers on the way. The looks on their faces let me know we would be the topic of much speculation within the hour. For one thing, I never had visitors. For another, the night I met Meddie was the only time any of my brother's had seen me with a girl, let alone one as beautiful as this one and, of course, because she was obviously upset.

Fortunately, my roommate of the last 2 years dated a girl who lived off campus and he stayed with her most of the time. I shut my door behind me and leaned my back against it as if I were keeping the words Meddie had said from coming in the room with us. "Are you sure?" was met with a nod from her and she offered a wrinkled clinic report stating she was six weeks pregnant. I just couldn't think of what to say to her.


Her hair was put up in a mass of black locks too big for her frame and her face was wrecked. I hadn't seen her since our last party which was when I met her... and subsequently made a baby with her. Not that I hadn't wanted to see her - I just didn't know where to look. If she gave me details about her life that night that would've clued me in on how to find her, I didn't remember them. I didn't remember much actually. Except for her dancing and the time we spent in the kitchen. I remember every bit of those two things.

It was our annual Toga Party when we met. Just one of a series of excuses to have a party and get drunk. I was bored and drinking heavily while wearing my Spartan costume when I saw several of my brothers fixated at a point on the dance floor. I stepped around them to get a better look and then joined them in their focus.

There she was. She wore a toga, sure. She was a Goddess among paupers, though. Her white pillar robe draped from a large golden medallion over one shoulder and the other bare. It hung down so low, I could see a hint of side boob. The slit in the dress revealed long shapely legs encased in lace up sandals. Her hair was up except for some curly dark tendrils hanging down and had little bits of gold spray and tiny white flowers all in it. She took my breath and I imagine I resembled one of those cobras swaying side to side under the control of a flute playing snake charmer.

She moved on the floor like she wasn't even touching it. Others who were dancing, stopped and backed away to give her more of the floor with slack-jawed sluggish movements. There were some classical dance moves thrown in with self-styled gyrations and it was purely magical. The ebb and flow of time was also entranced by this living, breathing work of art. In the background I vaguely remember the band covering "Wonderwall" by Oasis as she danced alone.



Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you
And by now, you should've somehow realised what you gotta do
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now
And backbeat, the word is on the street that the fire in your heart is out
I'm sure you've heard it all before, but you never really had a doubt
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now

And all the roads we have to walk are winding
And all the lights that lead us there are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how
Because maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall

Today was gonna be the day, but they'll never throw it back to you
And by now, you should've somehow realised what you're not to do
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now

And all the roads that lead you there were winding
And all the lights that light the way are blinding
There are many things that I would like to say to you, but I don't know how

I said maybe
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall
I said maybe (I said maybe)
You're gonna be the one that saves me
And after all
You're my wonderwall
I said maybe (I said maybe)
You're gonna be the one that saves me (saves me)
You're gonna be the one that saves me (saves me)
You're gonna be the one that saves me (saves me)
Oasis, Wonderwall 1994




Her toga would swing in the direction she was spinning and then when she'd abruptly change her lead, it would go the opposite direction and wrap around her curvy body. The skirt of the toga flattening out against her long gorgeous legs and then flowing back outward trying to catch up with her hypnotic movement.

I was mesmerized. I imagine this is how Salome danced before her step-father/uncle Herod Antipas, which earned her and her Mother, Herodias, the head of John the Baptist on a platter. I had loosely dated a few girls before, but never one of this incredible beauty. And, never had I felt the stirring within that I felt at that moment.

"I give it all. For her." The words came from a place I have never been and flowed breathlessly out of my mouth as the last few notes ended and she came to a stop, looking up to see who was watching. The answer was everyone. Anyone who'd caught a glimpse had stopped talking or moving and fixed all their attention on her, including me.

The boys were now all full of lust and testosterone and the girls split between lust and vicious jealousy.
Again, in retrospect I'm reminded of Herod Antipas wrecklessly telling Salome he'd give her anything she wanted, even half his kingdom for her seductive dance; never suspecting she'd ask him to have someone murdered.

Several guys got their feet moving toward her, but she locked eyes to me and started to approach me while passing the other guys, who shuffled their feet in another direction when they were snubbed by her. As she reached me, she asked for a drink of water. I grabbed her hand and led her to the kitchen and away from the masses who may try to take what was mine.


Once safely in the swinging doors, I backed her against the wall kissing her neck, her lips, and everything else I could get to with my hands wandering everywhere else. This was not my style at all. I was like an animal with her. No, at that moment, I was a God and this was my Goddess. I absolutely drank her in, this thing of beauty in front of me. Taking her for myself.

It seemed there was a struggle against another claim to her that I crushed beneath my feet.
My lust was my kingdom. She was a willing partner and returned my advances. I vaguely recall her saying something about that I was freeing her... I never did figure that part out. Actually, it seems there was a whole string of conversation that I could only recall bits and pieces of afterwards and none of which made any sense. I'm not even really sure when I learned her name.

I awoke the next morning in my room, head pounding, reeking of sweat and beer. I replayed the night in my head which stopped with the porn-worthy performance in the kitchen. Nothing more after that. I began to believe it was just a crazy dream until I saw a little bit of the gold spray from her hair on my pillow. I smelled her scent on me for days even after multiple showers. I became obsessed and her absence became maddening.

I looked around every corner for her over the next few weeks. I asked all of my brothers if they knew her. None did. I looked for my Meddie everywhere. Our parties were invitation only, but her name wasn't on the list, which really wasn't entirely uncommon. At times, I would catch a whiff of her scent again and for hours I would frantically search the area where I caught the scent.

My friends couldn't understand my new behaviors and obsession. 'She was just some beautiful girl who got drunk at a frat party and hung out with you, Daniel," they said. "Let it go, Dude. It didn't mean anything.' Except it did. It meant a lot to me. Every day I looked around as I did my daily routines on campus. It was just a medium sized private school. She had to be somewhere. I reasoned she was a Freshman and even took to doing my homework on a picnic bench near the Freshman dorms, but, still, I couldn't find her.

Until the day she was on the other side of the frat house door.

She was sobbing, sitting Indian style on my floor. I sat down beside her in total and complete shock. She looked over to me finally and said, "This wasn't supposed to happen, Daniel."

"I know."

"No. You don't know. You don't know what we've done. What are we going to do?"

I wasn't even to that forward thinking level of comprehension yet. I was stuck on the fact that I had knocked this girl up. And, then my mother's face entered my thoughts and I could visualize and hear her response to the news and it was unbearable. I'm sure my mother thought of me as a chaste, virginal good little Jew boy and this would destroy that. I inwardly groaned.

Then I thought about sharing the news with my brothers in the frat and how that would go over. This was not something you did. Another guy had knocked his girlfriend up and when his parents pulled the financial plug on him, he'd married her, quit school and went to work to support his new family. He dropped by from time to time to relive his frat boy years and you could see the regret all over his face as he looked down at his dirty hands with their new manual labor calluses.

The last time I saw him, he told me that his wife had left him and moved back in with her parents. And, since he'd started paying out that child support check, he'd been unable to make the rent on their shitty downtown apartment and was facing homelessness. I slid him a hundred out of my hard earned stash of the previous Summer's lawn mowing money and I think a couple of other guys did, too. While you could tell he hated himself for taking it, he still took it, and we haven't seen him since.

Then my mother comes back into view. She's going to cry. Dear God, that woman can wail, too. Ever since my Dad disappeared she has really focused her life around me solely and this is going to devastate her.

"By any chance, are you Jewish?" The words fell out of my mouth and Meddie shook her head in disbelief that I'd asked such a question under these circumstances. Quickly, I grabbed my coat and handed her some paper towels to wipe off her face. "C'mon, let's get out of here." I said.

We walked for hours around campus and downtown. I kept the conversation steered away from anything to do with the problem at hand. We were going to be parents and we didn't even know each other. We talked non-stop and I have to admit I started to feel more for her than just the lust that had pervaded my every thought since meeting her. We talked about sports, her years of ballet, jobs we'd held, our dreams for the future, our parents, and it was actually the best time I'd had in a long time.

"Are you hungry?" I asked.

"Yes, very."

"There's this little hole in the wall diner..."

"On sixth." she interjected.

"I love that place!" we said together and then looked down giggling like well, two people on a first date that is going really well.

The diner looked like Chubby Checker barfed up the entire 1950s to decorate the place. We were shown to a booth and when she sat down, she scooted to the wall. I, who on any other date, would've sat opposite, fell right in beside her. The bleach blond waitress who reaked of cheap cigarettes and was devoid of personality, got our drinks and half smiled/half snarled when we both ordered a club sandwich and fries. As she took our menus and started to walk away I noticed her name tag dubbed her as Juanita, which very much seemed a misnomer. Alice, Betty, or even Jane may have been fitting, but not Juanita.

Meddie apparently noticed it as well suddenly giggled and said, "HUuuuuuaaaaaaaaaa-nnnnneeeeeeeeeeta."

It was so incredibly stupid, but we laughed until our sides hurt.

Then Meddie quit laughing and looked down at the formica table top and
said, "I want to keep it. I want to be the parent my parents weren't."

I nodded my head. "Me, too," and then I added, "And, what about the father? Keeping him, too?" I asked.

That giggle again. "Maybe. But, really, you've got to tone down the dork a bit. We should be, you know... cool parents."

"DORK???" I asked. "What do you mean, Dork?"

"You know. You. Equals. Dork."

"Ok, fair enough. I will try to be less of a dork. But, that being said, you do know I'm the same dork you ravaged at a frat party five minutes after you met me."

"Me??? That was you! I couldn't keep you off of me! You were like an animal."

"Want to stay the night with me and see if we can recreate the scene to see who is right?"

"Well, it's not like I can get more pregnant."

But, oh my God, did I give it everything I had that night.

***
A few months later and my Junior year ended. Meddie was visibly showing now and everybody knew about the baby, but one person - my Mother. The baby was due at the end of Summer and I was running out of time. Meddie and I had decided to get married before the baby was born. I kept postponing it because I knew that if I didn't tell my mother before we got married, it would be even worse than it already was destined to be. Which was bad enough.

We had our first fight when Meddie was helping me pack to go home for the Summer. I didn't live far away; my college having been specifically chosen by myself because it met Mother's scholastic criteria and my criteria of a college just far enough away that I couldn't live at home, but could get there in about an hour.

Meddie lived with her mother in a small apartment complex and she didn't have a car. She'd been in a bad car wreck a couple of years prior and apparently her Dad left about that time. There was an insurance payout from that wreck that Meddie said was over 200k after her medical bills were paid and that her mom had it in a special account for her. Her Mom had told Meddie that she would have to use some of it to float them along since Meddie's dad and his income had splitsville.

Meddie's college dreams went on indefinite hold as her Mother had issues. Or, at least that's the way Meddie phrased it. She'd insisted Meddie had to go to full time work right after graduation. She got a job at a local hair salon and had been taking cosmetology courses on the side.

All I'd seen of Meddie's mother, the few times I'd met her, was her sleeping or staggering around all slack faced from over-medicating. She rode Meddie about everything incessantly, and played computer games and never left the apartment. I saw a picture of her with Meddie that couldn't have been 10 years old and the woman looked gorgeous. But, those 10 years had turned her into a complete bitter hag.

Fortunately for Mother and I, she'd had a good inheritance from my grandparents and we lived very frugally and saved as much as we could. I'd been managing Mother's finances since I was 14 and had turned a little into a little more. My college was paid for and she would be comfortable for the rest of her days due to my work. Typically one would expect that after all these years since my own father took off that she would've re-married, but sadly no. Hell, she was still convinced he was coming back!

Now, I just had to find a way for my soon-to-be family. I could make money. I knew that. I just hadn't planned on such a set of responsibilities to be on me while I was still in college. I'd worked hard through my advisor and my professors to be recommended for and get an internship with a major accounting firm that summer in my hometown.

Of course, internships don't pay, but they give you experience, something shiny on your resume besides a new diploma, and gives you the ability to make professional connections that will serve to get a full time position after college with them or maybe one of their buddies in the Good Ole Boy Club of Accountants.

So, this summer was already planned and was unavoidable. I would be an unpaid intern working the shittiest of accounts and acting as a janitor/coffee maker/bagel getter/target in an accounting firm during the day and would earn money mowing and whatever other work I could find in the evenings. I would come every Sunday to see Meddie.

"I just don't understand why you can't do the same thing here! There are firms here!"

"Yes, Meddie, but I have my Mother's friends that I usually work for during the summer. They will be flexible about when I can work for them. And, the firm back home is a major one and my internship will carry a lot more weight. It's not that I want to go. I have to go. I'm sorry, but it's just for 3 months."

She flopped down on my bed with all the drama of a two year old, "You just are doing this to get away from me. You're going to leave me with this baby to raise all alone. I didn't want this baby and I didn't want you!" she said with venom dripping off every word.

The words stung just as she had intended them to. I'd recently started to feel that Meddie would've chosen someone different for the father of her child if she could. She seemed to hold back the best part of herself and I felt like she kept me at arm's length. I could sense so much going on beneath the surface, but she just wouldn't let me in.

On every front we were both extremists, but this, too, was us operating from opposite ends of the spectrum. I was very lowkey and nondescript. Meddie was a beacon of attention demanding behaviors. She dressed to be noticed, I dressed.... to be dressed for the occasion. Meddie religiously read Cosmopolitan magazine and circled all of the designer things she longed to have. I thought that paying $5 for a magazine full of unnecessarily expensive things you couldn't afford and didn't need was ridiculous. I would take that $5 and roll it up in my socks for a rainy day.

I put down the clothes I was folding and went and sat beside her. I looked at her cat-like, no really, more like reptilian-shaped green eyes as her tears rolled and snot flew. I started to stroke her hair, but she didn't like that at all so I rested my hand on her bare arm.

"Meddie, if you don't love me the way I love you, tell me now. I will help with the baby and be a father the rest of my days, but I don't think it wise for any of us for you to be with me just because of the baby and not because you really love me. Those types of relationships never work out and the kids pay for it. I want to get married one time and one time only. I want 2 kids and to have Easter egg hunts, and go trick or treating, and on camping trips, and vacations and Disney World and...."

"I don't camp unless it's indoors and air conditioned." Meddie said through her tears.

"Like a hotel?" I laughed. "I guess I don't camp either then."

She smiled just a bit through the tears and snot.

"I don't want to do this, Meddie, but I have to do it. We have to think about the long term above the short term. I can make all our dreams come true, but you have to believe in me when it's good and easy as well as when it's hard and not so easy. And, I'll believe in you, ok? If we work together there's nothing we can't do. Hell, one night together and we made a whole other person!"

She outwardly laughed that time as she reached over to turn the radio on and as Radiohead, High and Dry filled the speakers, she got up and started dancing just like the first night I met her.


Two jumps in a week
I bet you think that's pretty clever, don't you, boy?
Flying on your motorcycle
Watching all the ground beneath you drop
You'd kill yourself for recognition
Kill yourself to never, ever stop
You broke another mirror
You're turning into something you are not

Don't leave me high
Don't leave me dry
Don't leave me high
Don't leave me dry

Drying up in conversation
You will be the one who cannot talk
All your insides fall to pieces
You just sit there wishing you could still make love
They're the ones who'll hate you
When you think you've got the world all sussed out
They're the ones who'll spit at you
You will be the one screaming out

Don't leave me high
Don't leave me dry
Don't leave me high
Don't leave me dry

Oh, it's the best thing that you've ever had
The best thing that you've ever, ever had
It's the best thing that you've ever had
The best thing you have had is gone away

So don't leave me high
Don't leave me dry

Don't Leave Me High, Radiohead 1994


We made love and when we'd exhausted ourselves, she excused herself to her odd nightly 1 hour minimum in the bathroom. She always brought a huge duffle bag just to stay the night. I swear it was so big, Jimmy Hoffa couldve been in there. She wore this weird turban thing on her head to bed, too. She said it was a part of a nightly conditioning treatment for her hair. She was exceedingly sensitive when it came to her hair anyway, so I didn't really question it. She was always trying some new skin cream, hair treatment, nail polish, or make-up. I just knew my girl had some pecularities that were very... peculiar.

When my Ali Baba-looking, pregnant girlfriend finally came back to bed, I had already fallen asleep. That night I dreamed more than I think I have in my whole life. I only remembered snippets after I awoke, but the journey of the night was epic I'm sure. I fought great beasts and Meddie fought with me. We traveled above and beneath the ground. And, the strangest thing of all that was very strange? Death was our guide. Yeah, the stereotypical Death with scythe, and robes and skeletal face.

Isn't that something?

Author Notes Meet Grim's parents.


Chapter 3
Avi Arrives

By Tara Maxfield

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of language.
Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of sexual content.


The small skeleton screamed and thrashed in the crib amongst the colorful bedding with pictures of Noah, the ark, and all the animals ready to set sail. The baby wouldn't sleep. It didn't eat. It was only quiet when being held and tightly wrapped.

Although they had a girl and a boy name ready when Meddie went into labor, they just couldn't bring themselves to name a skeleton Jacob Isaac Finkelstein or Rachel Leah Finkelstein. For one thing, they weren't positive the baby was a he or a she as the usual visual cues weren't present. It wasn't like the baby was vocalizing its gender just yet either. So, although it had been several weeks since the baby was born, there still didn't waa no name.

The baby, known as Baby F. to the hospital staff, had brought his parents to their knees with his birth. Meddie had barely survived physically and the ongoing emotional trauma was immense. The baby was a constant mystery and source of much speculation by the hospital staff and the staff physician, one of which leaked the news of the animated newborn skeleton to the press immediately.
 
Meddie and Daniel had every segment of their lives turned upside down, exposed, and flipped inside out in the public forum for all to see and hear. Meddie was particularly picked apart because, surely this was her fault, right? It's such a shame that people always need someone to blame, and in this case, everyone wanted to blame Meddie.

They did have a few memorable moments, just not the typical ones. The baby's pediatrician was one of them. He obviously had a thing for all things that started with the letter "P." He would just stand around throwing out conditions that sounded like alphabet soup. When thinking hard, he would say a word and then start saying every synonym and then every antonym for that word, all starting with "p" and all the while rubbing his chin. He, at least, provided some amusement for Daniel and Meddie over the weeks after the baby was born.

After the horror of the delivery, Meddie had stayed 2 weeks in ICU and then 2 more weeks in obstetrics and the baby was then allowed to stay in the room with her. If it was a night that Daniel had gone home, Meddie would send the baby back to the nursery where behind curtains in the back, there was a special place for it. Hidden away. She would pretend that her life was anything else so she could rest.

The media was relentless and there would be no rest until a picture was obtained. The new parents had refused requests repeatedly until Meddie said, "Daniel, they are going to get that picture one way or another. If they get it on their own, then there's nothing to be done and we get nothing but speculation and more attention. Let's at least get this money. We need it to get us through your last year of school. We might as well make the most of this and maybe they will leave us alone afterward." So, Daniel and Meddie reluctantly agreed to a single photo and interview in exchange for a sizable cash payment.

The religious zealots came in droves, too. Some even picketed the hospital with the most terrible things on signs about the baby. They called it the devil incarnate, and advocated for euthanizing the infant. It tore Daniel and Meddie apart, particularly Daniel who had to walk past them and their hate to visit his family. Eventually, they figured out who Daniel was and then they got really ugly. The police were called, but nothing could be done except to make them move their demonstration off of hospital property. So, they congregated on a public sidewalk about 50 yards from the entrance and continued with their moronic message.

The one day, Daniel came in to Meddie's room, grinning ear to ear. He swung open his overcoat like one of those flashers in the park revealing his old Red Ryder BB gun he'd smuggled in to the hospital. Meddie was still perplexed at why this was giving him such joy until he took off the coat and folded it over the back of a chair, still cracking up the whole time.  Then he locked the door from the inside and opened the second floor window. He pumped the gun and then crouched down, resting the barrel on the window frame. He took aim, and pulled the trigger.   
 
"Bees! Bees!" the protestors shouted and eventually dispersed, but not before Daniel had got nearly all of them at least once. He swore he'd gotten the leader at least 10 times. The last 3 or 4 right in the tail as he ran away. Daniel was laughing so hard in the end, he was rolling on the floor underneath the window and both of them had tears streaming from their eyes.

Talk shows, Podcasts, talk radio, news broadcasts all featured the infant skeleton story over and over for several weeks, but then the media coverage slowed to a stop. And, the worst of it was over, but there was so much damage done to the family in the meantime.
 
Daniel and Meddie spent all night discussing all the challenges they could foresee. They considered what if the baby could understand what people were saying and how they were acting, which led to a serious discussion about hiding the baby away somewhere. They talked about limiting his exposure to the outside world. Then they talked about why the baby was born as he was, and the implications of any of the answers was just more than they could bear at that time, so it was tabled.

In the end, Daniel came to the salient point, "Meddie, this is where we are going to have to be parents. I don't know how exactly. But, my Dad left. Your Dad left. We said we wouldn't do that to our kids. It's on us to prepare him for the cruelty of the world. It's on us to prepare the world for him and let him live his life. Sure, it's going to be extremely hard on us all, but none of the alternatives are viable. We are going to have to do ourselves what we want others to do and find a place in our heart for our child, which is nothing like we anticipated. That doesn't make the baby less deserving though. This child needs us more desperately than I think we can imagine."
 
Meddie nodded her head and when Daniel left to go home that night and the nurse came for the baby, Meddie told her to leave the baby with her. She held her child all night. She told it about her life and that they were going to love and protect their child no matter what. The baby broke its hand free of the blanket and wrapped 4 bony fingers and a thumb around its mother's finger.

Both Meddie and Daniel were so relieved when they could finally return home and away from the reporters, the hospital staff, the nosy friends, and every zealot who turned up to see the demon baby. Daniel had actually thrown a chair at a deranged Priest who tried to perform some sort of an exorcism right outside the nursery door. After that two security guards were posted outside the room at all times. 

Just before they left, the staff physician was supposed to be consulting with the individuals who'd just become parents to a living skeleton. In the middle of their discussion about getting the best pediatrician for the baby's condition, the doctor totally flaked out and said, "Peculiar."

Meddie and Daniel exchanged looks and wondered if they were supposed to respond to the statement. "Excuse me?" Daniel asked. 

 A few moments later he said, "Peaked," and began the chin rubbing. Foot tapping came next and escalated until the good doctor was nearly dancing a jig right in Meddie's hospital room.

"Puzzle... Problematic.. Pathological...  Perplex... Perturb... non-Plus," he continued in excitement with scattered giggles thrown in-between words. 

Meddie and Daniel found themselves totally removed from their sorrow for a moment as they stared at Dr. Dumbass, who disregarded them fully as he moved on from the synonyms right into the antonyms, taking a step toward the door with every word produced. "Pellucid... palpable... plain..." There was a long pause and he froze mid-stride with one leg dramatically held aloft until, "Perspicuous!" brought the leg down and out the door he went.

Apparently, the next "P" was meant for some other Poor, Pitiful Patient's Perturbed Parents. Meddie and Daniel took to referring to him as the "Perpetually Perplexed Pediatrician Physician Phil Prestley" or "He of the 6 P" for short. It was so good to laugh when they could.

The one tangible and slightly meaningful offering "He of the 6 P" rendered was that he suggested that the bone structure of the baby was likely that of a male. Still, they couldn't settle on a name, because nothing fit. Nevertheless, to avoid referring to the baby as "it," they adopted the "he" pronoun and hoped for the best.

"What do you think is wrong with him?" Daniel asked, staring down at his infant son, who looked more like the mortal remains of one.

"It's been days now that he's been like this," Meddie began. "There isn't a doctor in town who will accept him as a patient. They just say they can't take on our case because they don't have any clinical expertise with living skeletons! One even laughed at me and hung up when I told him about the baby, Daniel! All he does is cry, or something like that. He's so exhausted, I guess. He's as abnormal as it gets, and I don't know what to do! Every time I get him calm and resting and try to put him down, he just starts up all over again... I even called Mother F.," Meddie finished with this last revelation. If Meddie reached out to her mother-in-law on purpose then there was a good chance there was a ski resort where Hell had once been.

Meddie sighed and picked her baby up to try to rock him. As she did, the baby's hand came out of the swaddle and his index finger shot out what appeared to be a lightning bolt, which went right out the bedroom door and straight for the pet cat. Noodles jumped up, gave a great and horrific meow, and fell over dead., board stiff, and slightly smoking. One moment he'd been happily napping on the couch, and the next he found himself riding a one way ticket to the Great Litterbox in the Sky.

Daniel picked up the cat, and then looked at Meddie, and then back at the still smoking cat with the shock of the situation rendering him speechless. A knock at the door made them both jump. They had just moved in to the new apartment and hardly anyone knew where they lived.

"Are you expecting anyone?" Daniel asked.

"No, huh-uh." Meddie answered and both walked slowly to the front door. Daniel usually asked through the door who it was, but not that time. He just opened the door wide revealing who, or what, was on the other side.

"What the ---- ?" Daniel murmured.

The great hulking blackness in front of them was at least 7 ft tall. Its tattered and soiled black robe with a hood hid its form beneath. It would've been even taller had it not been hunched over so much at its disproportionately tiny waist. In one skeletal hand was an upright scythe on a long, intricately carved wooden pole. The metal finish was fierce, having been hand forged and hammered by some ancient blacksmith long ago The business edge was smooth and gleaming with a razor sharpness worked into it over the course of millenia. The being's other skeletal hand held a rocks glass with a dark honey color liquid in it.

The thing raised its glass as if toasting to the new family and asked, "Well, aren't you going to invite me in?" It slowly raised the glass to the skeletal face that appeared and took a drink. An almost immediate splash of liquid fell to the ground beneath the creature.

Daniel remained immobile and breathlessly responded, "Who are you?"

"This is 42 Lark Lane, Apt 2e, isn't it?"

"Yes." Daniel said almost robotically and with a dry mouth.

"Then I'm in the right place. Let me see the boy." And the creature bowed its head to get through the doorway, passed right by Daniel and Meddie to enter into the apartment and sat down on the couch right where Noodles had just been toasted.

"Is something burning?" the creature asked.

Daniel shut the door and while still holding the aforementioned recently deceased Noodles under his arm like a football, he joined Meddie who was holding her skeleton son, and they sat on the love seat opposite of the creature. Even with what they had just been through, nothing could've prepared them for the thing making itself at home on their couch.

"I am Avi. Ah- vee. Your son is my replacement. As such, I need to spend the coming years mentoring him until he is ready to take over and I can finally retire. So, I hope you have another bedroom or I guess the couch will do if it has to. Bring me the boy."

The baby had awoken and had started throwing a fit again. Meddie later couldn't understand why she did it, but she handed him to Avi and he immediately began to calm down. Avi unwrapped him and looked him over head to toe. "Does he scream like that all the time?"

"Yes, all the time." Meddie replied.

"Where's his coffin? I'll put him down. And where's his robes and scythe?" Avi asked.

"Clothes won't stay on him and what do you mean, 'his robes and scythe'?" Daniel suddenly could speak again.

"Kid, you picked a couple of winners for parents." He said to the baby and then speaking slow for emphasis he continued to Daniel and Meddie, "He. Is. Going. To. Be. The. New. Death. He. Is. My. Re. Place. Ment." After a few moments to let it sink in he continued, "That is upon him coming of age, completion of his training, and such. So, who has the genetics of the Godly sort?"

Daniel and Meddie said nothing.

"These things don't just happen in the land of the miserable mortals. Nope, straight outta the loins of a God, or at the very least, some half- breed demi-god is the way this happens. So, I ask you again... Who's been having relations with a God?"

Again, no answer. So, he picked the baby up by the back of the neck and turned him towards his parents, his bony body dangling from the boney clutch of Avi. "See this? Does he wook wike a itty bitty wittle human bay beeee to you? Does he?

Let me give you two short buses a clue. He's Death. I'm Death. He has a future duty to fulfill and he will fulfill it until such time whoever dictates his duties see fit to allow him to relinquish his duties. Since he is DEATH, he is only comfortable in his natural elements; the macabre, darkness, the grim and dreary, the morbid, ghastly, and grotesque. He needs these things at all times, but right now specifically he needs robes, a scythe, a coffin to sleep in until he gets at least a little older, black everything, and he won't be sated until he gets it."

Avi's head remained cocked to the side in irritation and disbelief as he waited for one of them to say something and then he asked, "What's his name?"

"We haven't decided," Meddie managed.

Avi looked at the two defeated parents then to the still smoking cat and then at the baby, "Well, Kid, it's just one grim situation after another around here, isn't it?"

"His name is Grim," said Meddie.

Daniel looked to his wife and nodded his agreement. As if in a trance, Daniel got up and grabbed his keys from the coffee table and silently headed out the door still clutching Noodles under his arm. Meddie got up and went to her son's room and pulled down the colorful mobile hanging above Grim's crib. She took the Noah bedding and shoved it in a trash bag along with almost everything else in the room she'd so carefully decorated. She broke down the freshly constructed crib and returned it to the box from whence it came.
 
She only spoke with Avi to ask, "How did you know the baby was a boy"
 
Avi simply replied, "How did you not know?"

As if on autopilot, she stripped her son's room of anything and everything a human infant would love. She got out her sewing machine and an old pair of black curtains and sat down in the dining area, cutting and sewing without a word. Grim rested quietly on Avi's lap and in just a short time, Avi's head rolled back and he snored incredibly loudly on the couch, which perplexed Meddie. She was pretty sure that Avi, like the baby, didn't breathe.

By the time Daniel returned with a small lidded wooden crate and a small scythe he got from his Mother's (which had led to a difficult conversation in itself), Grim was still asleep on Avi's lap, but was wearing his new hooded robe. Meddie was in the bed, too, having laid down when her psyche just couldn't tolerate consciousness for another second.

The baby's room was a ghastly site with drapes of black on everything. It more resembled a Victorian funeral home than an infant's bedroom, and the creep factor was complete with the tiny makeshift coffin Daniel placed in there for the baby's bed.  He cut the foam from the previous crib's mattress to pad it a little. All Daniel could feel was the agony of the last 6 weeks since his son was born, culminating up to this moment. Over and over in Daniel's head played The Rolling Stones.


With flowers and my love both never to come back.
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away.
Like a newborn baby, it just happens every day.
I look inside myself and see my heart is black.
I see my red door and must have it painted black.
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts
It's not easy facin' up when your whole world is black.
No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue.
I could not foresee this thing happening to you.
If I look hard enough into the settin' sun
My love will laugh with me before the mornin' comes.
I see a red door and I want it painted black.
No colours anymore, I want them to turn black.
I see the girls go by dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes.
I wanna see your face painted black.
The Rolling Stones, Paint it Black


Daniel was outside in the darkness of night burying the cat in the small flowerbed in front of the apartment complex when Meddie awoke and took off her wig and wrapped her head tightly. Daniel would have to sleep with her now and she had to keep him safe. Their houseguest now occupied Daniel's pull-out couch bed. And, Meddie wanted to cry but she just didn't have any tears left. It seemed her punishment and the suffering of anyone who loved her would never end. By the time Daniel joined her in the bed, they both were too exhausted to discuss the evening's events and went to sleep as far from each other as possible.

 

Author Notes This is one of my favorite chapters so far. I have a dark, dry wit as I'm sure you've gathered and laughter is the most perfect coping mechanism the human experience has to offer.
At this point, I'm going to tell you how this idea came to me. I want to be an artist when I grow up. So, in my forties, I started sculpting with polymer clay. I was learning how to make skulls and one struck me as toddler-like
with the eye sockets made too large in error and the length of the head too short. Those eye sockets seemed to be looking up at an unknown thing. Inspiration is a all encompassing beast some times. I made him a body and heavy black hooded robe. I also made him a small scythe which he drags on the floor behind him. It's like a pacifier or a blankie for him. His head is slightly cocked to the side and he's looking up as if he were probably getting a scolding from a parent.
Then I thought, what if Death were literally born today, in this world? What if he were born to a couple of suburbanites? Maybe a Jewish accountant father. And, since I doubt this thing could happen spontaneously, I threw in some Godly genetics.
For three years. I worked the story out mostly in my head. I did story boards, tons of sculptures, paintings... I was obsessed.
My husband is very supportive of my writing and loves to hear my stories. So, when I told him my concept, and he looked at me like I'd lost some French fries out of my Happy Meal. I knew this was just something I'd have to show him. I wrote the first 5 or 6 chapters in as many days, sat him down, and read it to him.

Now, we talk about Grim like he's part of our family, because he is part of our family as well as Avi and all those who love Grim.

I hope he can be part of your family, too. He'd like that.

I want to add one little but more about Avi's name. My husband had a friend growing up named Avi. Avi was a throw away child. They had some great adventures together, including driving 9 hours to find Avi's father. Avi ended up punching him in the nose. He punched a few in the nose before he tragically died young. There was only a few friends to mourn Avi and when they die, no one will remember him at all.

I asked my husband for a name for old Death when I was sketching him out. Without pause, my husband said, "Avi."

It was perfect.

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