{"id":127614,"date":"2025-03-12T03:50:23","date_gmt":"2025-03-12T03:50:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/peraltafinancing.com\/entertainment\/books\/the-first-passing-close-to-the-bone-publishing\/"},"modified":"2025-03-12T03:50:23","modified_gmt":"2025-03-12T03:50:23","slug":"the-first-passing-close-to-the-bone-publishing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/fivemor.com\/?p=127614","title":{"rendered":"The First Passing | Close To The Bone Publishing"},"content":{"rendered":"


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I stood triumphantly, my head held high and my chest swelling with pride. My first successful passing; I had nailed it. It went exactly as the manuals said; scythe sharp as bone and robes dark as the midnight sky. The newly deceased had trembled in fear, like they always did. It wasn\u2019t about comfort \u2013 it was about transition, the severing of the soul from the body. I had provided a quick death, an orderly crossing.
+++++<\/span>My thoughts were interrupted as a shadow shifted at the far end of the room. The figure who had been observing me from the edges all along. They were my superior. I hadn\u2019t been told much about them, just that they were old enough to have witnessed millions of deaths and that they always remained silent. Until now.
+++++<\/span>\u201cHarbinger,\u201d the figure spoke, their voice slipping into my mind like a whisper through cracks in a door, more a thought than a sound. I resisted the urge to smile. It felt good to hear the title used properly, used respectfully. I really was a Harbinger now.
+++++<\/span>\u201cYes,\u201d I replied, failing to hide the eagerness in my tone. \u201cI\u2019ve completed my first passing. Efficiently. No delays.\u201d
+++++<\/span>The figure shifted, stepping closer, though their form remained indistinct, more an impression than a shape. \u201cTell me about it.\u201d
+++++<\/span>I didn\u2019t hesitate. \u201cThe soul had just left the cadaver\u2014a woman, late fifties, heart failure. She was frightened at first, of course, but that\u2019s normal. I showed up as instructed, scythe in hand. I loomed, spoke in riddles. She screamed. I waited until she stopped, then I performed the cut. Clean. It was a textbook passing.\u201d
+++++<\/span>There was a pause. The figure, still difficult to make out in the shadows, seemed to be considering my words. Finally, they spoke again.
+++++<\/span>\u201cYou showed her the scythe?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cOf course. It\u2019s tradition.\u201d
+++++<\/span>Another pause. This one felt longer, heavier. My confidence wavered slightly, but I quickly brushed it aside. I knew I\u2019d performed well.
+++++<\/span>The figure stepped closer, and though their face remained obscure, I could feel their gaze boring into me. \u201cTell me,\u201d they began slowly, \u201chow did she look?\u201d
+++++<\/span>I blinked. \u201cPardon?\u201d I didn\u2019t understand the significance of the question.
+++++<\/span>\u201cThe woman, the soul. What did her face look like when you appeared?\u201d
+++++<\/span>I frowned, thinking back, trying to recall the details. \u201cShe\u2026 well, she was terrified, obviously. They always are.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cAnd that\u2019s how it should be?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cWell, Death is meant to be feared. It\u2019s our role, isn\u2019t it? To make sure they understand the significance of the moment?\u201d
+++++<\/span>The figure remained silent. Then, with a voice that somehow felt colder than before, they asked, \u201cDo you recall your own passing?\u201d
+++++<\/span>My heart began to race as I struggled to muster a response. I had suppressed these memories for a reason. This was not an experience that I wanted to relive. After a moment\u2019s silence that felt like a lifetime, I managed to splutter out a response, \u201cMy\u2026 own\u2026?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cYes. Your own death. When you crossed.\u201d
+++++<\/span>I shifted uncomfortably, the memories flickering at the edges of my mind. \u201cThat was\u2026 a long time ago.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cStill. You remember.\u201d
+++++<\/span>It wasn\u2019t a question. I swallowed, trying to push the memories down, but they rose up all the same. My own passing had been\u2026 I shook my head. That wasn\u2019t the point. I was a Harbinger now. I wasn\u2019t supposed to dwell on my own death.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI don\u2019t see how that\u2019s relevant,\u201d I said a little too quickly.
+++++<\/span>The figure\u2019s voice softened, almost as if they were smiling, though there was no warmth in it. \u201cYou\u2019ve followed the scripts well. I see that. You\u2019ve done everything by the book. But let me ask you\u2026 did you take pleasure in it?\u201d
+++++<\/span>I blinked, once again taken aback by the unusual line of questioning. \u201cPleasure? That\u2019s not\u2026 that\u2019s not the point. I\u2019m here to perform a duty.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cHmmm,\u201d the figure mused. \u201cAnd do you believe the souls you guide enjoy it?\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cThey\u2019re dead. It\u2019s not about enjoyment. It\u2019s about crossing.\u201d
+++++<\/span>Another pause. The figure moved closer still, until I could almost make out the features of their face; a vague outline of something ancient and ageless, yet somehow deeply familiar.
+++++<\/span>\u201cYou\u2019ve made a mistake,\u201d they said, their voice low.
+++++<\/span>I felt a flash of indignation. A mistake? How? I did everything right. I followed the process perfectly\u2026 I opened my mouth to argue, but the figure raised a hand, silencing me. \u201cLook at me, Harbinger,\u201d they said quietly. \u201cDo I carry a scythe? Do I wear the robes of shadow?\u201d
+++++<\/span>I hesitated, studying the figure. They were cloaked, yes, but it wasn\u2019t the same. There was no sharp weapon, no skeletal imagery. Just\u2026 presence. A cold, calming presence.
+++++<\/span>\u201cNo,\u201d I admitted reluctantly. \u201cBut you\u2019re\u2026 different. You\u2019re higher ranking than me so maybe it\u2019s\u2026\u201d My voice trailed off, betraying my lack of a coherent argument.
+++++<\/span>They chuckled softly. They almost seemed to be enjoying my humiliation. \u201cThere are no ranks here, only understanding. You are simply new to this, that is all. You will come to comprehend with time.\u201d
+++++<\/span>Their words stung. How could they suggest that I was so wrong? I felt my grip on my earlier confidence slipping. \u201cBut\u2026 the scythe. The tradition. That\u2019s what we\u2019ve been taught. It\u2019s what people expect from us.\u201d
+++++<\/span>The figure shook their head. \u201cDo you believe the dead want to be frightened? Do you think they long for terror as they pass from one world to the next?\u201d
+++++<\/span>I hesitated again, the weight of the question pressing on me. \u201cIt\u2019s not about what they want,\u201d I said slowly. \u201cIt\u2019s about\u2026 order. Structure. The passing must be\u2026\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cA comfort.\u201d
+++++<\/span>The words hung in the air, heavy and cold. I stared at the figure, my mind racing. Comfort? That wasn\u2019t the role of the Harbinger. We weren\u2019t meant to coddle the dead. They needed to face the reality of their end\u2026 didn\u2019t they?
+++++<\/span>The figure\u2019s voice cut through my thoughts. \u201cDo you recall your feelings when you died?\u201d they asked softly. \u201cThe fear? The confusion?\u201d
+++++<\/span>A shiver ran through me. Memories I had buried deep began to claw their way to the surface\u2014flashes of darkness, of a terror so profound I could barely breathe. The moment my heart had stopped. The void. The silence. The overwhelming dread of the unknown.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI\u2026\u201d My voice wavered. \u201cI remember.\u201d
+++++<\/span>The figure nodded slowly as if they already knew. \u201cAnd did you want to be scared?\u201d
+++++<\/span>I didn\u2019t answer. I couldn\u2019t. The truth of it was beginning to seep into me, uncomfortable and unwelcome. My first passing had been efficient and clean, yes, but had it been right? I thought back to the woman\u2019s face, the wide eyes filled with terror, the way her hands had trembled as she screamed. I had thought it was necessary. That it was how things were supposed to be. But now\u2026
+++++<\/span>\u201cYou\u2019re telling me I\u2019ve done it wrong?\u201d I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
+++++<\/span>\u201cNot wrong,\u201d the figure replied. \u201cJust\u2026 not entirely right.\u201d
+++++<\/span>I frowned, my mind reeling. \u201cSo what am I supposed to do? If not the scythe, if not the robes\u2026 then what? How do I guide them?\u201d
+++++<\/span>The figure\u2019s form shifted again, softening, becoming less distinct. \u201cYou must remember, Harbinger,\u201d they said gently. \u201cThe act of dying is terrifying enough. The unknown is a vast, empty place. Your role is not to add to that fear, but to help them face it.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cBut\u2026 but they need to understand,\u201d I protested weakly. \u201cThey need to know what\u2019s happening. That it\u2019s final.\u201d
+++++<\/span>\u201cThey already know,\u201d the figure said simply. \u201cThey feel it the moment they die. Your job is to ease that transition. To ensure it is as painless as possible.\u201d
+++++<\/span>I shook my head, the weight of my own death pressing down on me. The fear, the cold\u2026 it had been overwhelming, all-consuming. And I had done the same to her, I had inflicted the same terror that I had once felt.
+++++<\/span>The silence between us stretched on, thick and heavy. I felt something inside me shift, an old certainty cracking, falling apart.
+++++<\/span>\u201cI see,\u201d I muttered, though I wasn\u2019t sure that I did.
+++++<\/span>The figure stepped back, fading slightly into the shadows again. \u201cYou will understand in time.\u201d
+++++<\/span>I swallowed, my mind still reeling. \u201cAnd\u2026 my next passing?\u201d
+++++<\/span>The figure was already turning away, their form dissolving into the air like a thin mist. \u201cThat is up to you, Harbinger,\u201d they said softly. \u201cChoose your own path. But remember\u2026 It is not they who serve you. You are there to serve them.\u201d
+++++<\/span>And then they were gone, leaving me alone in the dim room, the weight of their words hanging in the air like a choking smoke. I stood there for a long time, my hands trembling. I thought about the woman\u2019s face, her fear, her screams. I thought about my own death, the terror I had felt. And I thought about what lay ahead, what I would do when I faced the next soul.
+++++<\/span>My scythe hung on the wall behind me, gleaming in the dim light. I stared at it, my mind torn between duty and doubt. I had done everything right, everything by the book. But was it enough? I turned toward the door. My next passing awaited me. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the scythe, just for a moment.
+++++<\/span>Maybe\u2026 maybe there was another way.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

[Image Credit : Photo by Amr Taha\u2122<\/a> on Unsplash<\/a>]<\/p>\n

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David is an aspiring writer from the north of England who currently focuses on short stories about inner struggles, self-discovery, and stepping into the unknown. His work often blends reality with surreal elements, inviting readers to explore life’s uncertainties and hidden truths. His other works can be found in 7th-Circle Pyrite.<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/p><\/div>\n

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