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MidReal Story
The Silent Reaper
Scenario:You must play as Death. Always invisible and silent to the living, you must make your visit when it is their time and visit them before giving them the touch of death. You may have a short talk with them after they die to explain what has happened, if you choose. Some will be tough as humans of all ages die across the world.
Create my version of this story
Death
invisible, and eternal. Death visits individuals at their time of passing, often witnessing their final moments. He occasionally interacts with the deceased, explaining their transition to the afterlife. Despite his grim duty, Death remains detached and professional, ensuring a peaceful transition for those he encounters.
Lily Adams
leaving her family devastated. In her final moments, she shows courage and acceptance when confronted by Death.
Michael Thompson
I am Death.
I am silent and invisible to the living, and I come to you when your time is up.
I visit everyone, from kings and queens to beggars and slaves.
I come to infants and the elderly.
I come to all.
I never speak until they can see me and speak to me, and that only happens when their time is up.
It never changes.
I always give them the touch of death, but sometimes I talk to them before they go.
Not always, but sometimes.
It is all the same to me.
I am eternal, and I never get tired of my job.
I know it is important to guide the souls from the land of the living to the land of the dead, where they will search for their spirit train to heaven.
I drift through the walls of the hospital, my invisible form floating through the sterile hallways.
I pass by rooms filled with people who are dying, but it is not their time yet.
I have been watching them for a while now, and I know when it is their time.
I know when it is time to visit them.
Room 412 is where I need to be.
The elderly man in the bed is my next stop.
His wrinkled hands clutch a worn photograph of a young woman in a wedding dress.
The machines beeping around him show his vitals weakening, his breath becoming shallow.
Two nurses enter the room, checking his charts and adjusting his medications.
Their movements are practiced and efficient, but they can do nothing to stop what is coming.
The man's daughter sleeps in a chair beside him, her hand resting on his arm. I move closer, watching as his chest rises and falls with increasing difficulty.
The photograph slips from his fingers, landing softly on the blanket.
I reach out toward him, my touch inevitable.
I stand at the foot of his bed, watching as his chest rises and falls with each labored breath.
The wedding photo lies askew on the blanket, its edges curled up slightly, showing a much younger version of him standing beside a beaming bride in white.
His daughter stirs but doesn't wake, her hand still resting on his arm.
The machines around them slow their steady beeping as his pulse weakens.
I move to his bedside, opposite his sleeping daughter, and reach out.
The air in the room seems to cool ever so slightly in my presence, causing the girl to pull her sweater tighter around her in her sleep.
The old man's eyes flicker open, seemingly looking directly at me despite my invisibility to the living.
"Is it time?" he whispers, his voice barely audible over the hum of the machines.
"Yes," I reply softly, "but you have a choice to make before we go."
His gaze shifts to the photograph, and he murmurs, "Will she be waiting for me?"
