Death's Apprentice

33

Reaping the souls should've been my first priority, I knew that, but I couldn't help it. I could help but be sucked in. There was something magical about yard sales, and their ability to suck you in to look at and buy other people's junk. One man's trash is another man's treasure, right? Though I doubt it was meant to be taken literally. I saw a man digging through his trash can and putting stuff out for sale. I shook my head and passed on to the next sale.

Half in a garage, half on the lawn boxes and tables held whatever stuff the owners wanted to pass off for a quick buck. For as many sales as I went to, I was surprised by the lack of diversity. Every single sale was filled baby clothes, old person stuff that they probably inherited, and boxes full of poorly made toys. Occasionally, there would be boxes filled with trading cards or filled with copies of books which looked like they'd never been opened. I'd never heard of half of the titles.

Why I kept going through them, I had no idea. Why I kept going through them visibly, I had even less of an idea. Maybe I did it because I found ten dollars in one of Death's pockets. Maybe I did it because I wanted something to call my own at Death's place. I might've felt guilty about spending his money if I got paid and if there was anything good to buy. Since Death didn't pay me, I didn't feel bad. Nothing caught my eye anyway.

At least, until something did.

I was making a second lap around a particularly junky yard sale, one with broken bikes, broken lamps, and everything no one would want to buy. The only reason I stuck around was because the wife sat out new boxes, filled with things people might actually want. One overflowed with paintings, another was filled to the brim with DVDs. She put out another box, one full of glass stuff, and I would've ignored it, if I didn't have a strange fascination with bottles. Not soda bottles, though I did have a few of those when I was alive, no, I preferred old shoe polish, Iodine, and perfume bottles.

I knelt next to the box, trying to ignore the wet grass soaking into my pants. I wasn't able to.

I dug around in the box, glass clinking as I moved vases, soda bottles, and Mason jars around. I almost gave up on anything I'd like when my eyes caught on a flask. I wrapped my hand around it and pulled it out. Swirls coated the glass and it had a cool shape; that was why I picked it up. It wasn't why I bought it for the fifty cents listed on the neone orange sticker.

A string of energy led off of it.

I stared at it. Sunlight glinted off its polished surface. Not a speck of dirt was to be seen inside or out. What was this thing going in a yardsale? Why would Clara let it survive? I mean, it had to be hers. She was the only immortal left, the only one who that thread would connect to.

Walking away, I tucked it into a pocket. I couldn't figure out what it was doing in a yard sale or, more specifically, a yard sale filled with scrap. The only explanation I could come up with is that things constantly change hands. Someone might get something as a gift and then regift it. That person might then put it in a box by the road labeled free, and someone else might pick it up and give it to someone. The only things remembered about it might be that it's old, not when exactly it was made or who owned it. It wouldn't be far fetched for something of Clara's to end up in the same situation. I chuckled.

Harper lost one of her ribbons, Kai left behind a trap, Ivy basically had a stalker, one of Jacob's weapons made it into my dad's collection, and Clara is going to be found out because I happened to come across something at a yard sale I technically wasn't supposed to be at.

I tightened my grip on my scythe. I had no idea how people didn't see it, or maybe they did and they thought I bought it at a different yard sale. The sounds around me dulled as I focused my energy on returning me to the right side of the veil. Returning should've been easier than leaving, but things rarely made sense after I died. Only after I had trouble hearing even the loudest sounds did I warp back home.