Charles (Chuck) Kensinger

By Chuck Kensinger

The lane looked deserted. It wasn’t. She would be here soon. These appointments always happened. He did not know why people would be in these secluded places. He showed up because of a feeling. Someone was always there.

That wasn’t true. They were not all secluded. There were the times in the train station and the mall. Dozens, if not hundreds of wandering humans. Some going somewhere specific. Others, just window shopping. The gentleman that fell on the tracks that day. An elderly lady with her granddaughter in the dress shop.

He had been outside houses, apartment buildings, or businesses. He could not physically see those clients. He knew they were there. He experienced them. They had feelings, emotions, and sensations. The heart attacks. The intruders that chanced to be discovered. A mother that dropped her child. A husband that did not mean to hit his wife with the ladder.

Tonight, was like a story from a book. Here he was waiting for Linda Stephenson. He always knew the names. He did not want to take them from their families and friends. That was Grim’s job. He was a reaper. He wished he were a messenger or what were called angels. He would like to be able to say something or help.

His duty was to pick them up and take them to the place. The fire. No, they did not burn. Some of them seemed nice. Others deserved what they received. The one that had killed the couple that he did not transport. That was for Jesus. They were His. He took the murderer to the fire after the cops had shot him.

Linda was walking down the road. She had gotten out of a car around the corner. Her date had been angry when she opened the door and stepped out. She was walking to a nearby house. She wanted to get away from him. There was his car now. He never braked.

Grim picked up her soul and left her body on the road. She did not realize what had happened. She would soon. It only took a second or less to be at the fire. Then she would know that she had missed her chance.

Copyright 2022 by Charles Kensinger