Grimm: Defender of mankind

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Chapter 3 - A thoughtful father (Reap)

“No, dad. I don’t want to hear it. The message is clear enough.”

I let my arm fall to my side, and leave it there as I watch Grimm run from my words, from me.

But they’re not my words! They are The Reaper’s Laws! Just because they came out of my mouth doesn’t make them MY words! Ghaaaaaa!

I need to move. I begin to pace, waving my arms around as I think... or try to. The Imps, being the all-time kings of mischief (aside from Lopt of course... Loki to all you non-deities), stuck around to watch the argument unfold. Their incessant chatter keeps interrupting my thoughts.

“Come on! I said SHOO! GO! LEAVE ME ALONE!!!”

Of course they just find my irritation blatantly amusing. No amount of yelling and flailing and cursing could change that, so they stay and continue to chatter.

“UUUUUUUHHHHGGG!!!!”

Finally I throw my arms up in defeat and stomp my way out of the crypt. I turn left and head in the opposite direction of Grimm, towards cliffs overhanging the village.

The catacombs are this one gigantic maze. Way back when, the French built them beneath the city of Paris (or whatever it may have been called at the time, I cannot remember) to bury and commemorate their dead. Nowadays the catacombs stretch to nearly each edge of France. Most of these tunnels were built as extensions of the originals, and later on, as extensions of extensions. Only a few of the tunnels were mapped (many of those maps having been lost and forgotten) and almost none followed a floor plan. The combination of all the aforementioned factors are the cause for the winding, twisting and collapsing tunnels that stretch for miles upon miles on end throughout France. There is not a single living soul who knows or has inspected every crook, nook, and tunnel down here. But there is a dead one.

Just to give you all a small idea of my age, I was there when the tunnels were being built. I have memorized (without ever writing down) every single path, corridor, opening and secret passage in the crypts. I have memorized where is underground in comparison to aboveground. I have mentally mapped every single entrance and where they lead to. And most importantly (and impressively if you ask me), I have had time to create, test, and perfect every single entrance so as to take me anywhere across the globe. Even across the sea. All of this while still reaping souls and maintaining my side of The Balance.

So as you can imagine, it wasn’t too difficult for me to find my way out of here, even when in the middle of storming, flailing and thinking.

Why must he be so stubborn! Such a child! I understand he’s still young, but by his age I was reaping death and collecting souls!

I made my way to my favorite cliff, and sat over the edge.

Don’t care about him... Ha! If I don’t care about him, why do I offer for him to come on reapings with me? Why do I teach him about portals? Or human traditions hmmm?... Ridiculous. I CREATED him! Of course I care about him! Stubborn youth...

I looked out over the vast empty sky and to the village down below, letting my eyes roam the streets at random.

I created him... but he doesn’t know. Oh how I wish he could know... But if he knew he would go looking. He’d start asking questions and trying to do good. It would be a disaster...

In an instant of calm lucidity, I realized that the roaming of my eyes was not as random as I initially believed. My eyes had been tracing the paths of the elderly. Where they went, my sockets followed. I assumed I did this out of habit, or perhaps nature. Either way I was aching for a reaping.

I was debating whether or not to go down there and reap a particularly old man sporting a horrendous goatee when I caught a whiff of life’s horrid scent. Startled, I snapped my skull out to face Giavanna, all the while clouding my features over so she would not see my inner turmoil. Filling the words with as much disgust and hate as I could, I spat

“What do you want?”

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