The Book Left Behind

I would not call my job hard. I, arrive, perhaps wait, as I sometimes prefer to come early. I am many things, but I am never late. Death is never late. I take what belongs to me, and I leave. Occasionally I linger, using the little allotted time I have. Although I would not call my job hard, it was tedious, and it was taxing. Despite the power I held, the amount of things I learn is scarce. Despite the fact I take away their lives, I know nothing about the people who owned them. My job simply required me to take them away. The faces of people often swirl together, but it is only natural, as I see so many in just an hour. Sometimes faces can no longer be distinguished, for reasons more than one.  Despite this, there is one face that stands out among the ones I have collected. I saw the hunter three times.

Technically, Garven Jaeger was not yet a hunter.  The first time I saw him, he had never harmed another living thing, let alone kill one. (he was only ten, after all.) I remember the night I saw him clearly. Coal dust with chances of indigo painted the midnight sky. A beautiful sight for a city where death constantly loomed over it. I was only passing by the towns train station, when I see the boy sprint towards me, arms filled with packages of food and canteens of what I presumed was water. At first, when I see him staring in my direction, I wonder if he was able to see me, as I remembered my breathing was somewhat loud that day. As he ran right through me, I foolishly realize he had his eyes set on the moving train directly behind me. Although I was not curious, I was intrigued. He was running toward the compartment housing a frail woman, a large key was worn around her neck. Germany in the year 1938 was a dangerous place to be, and i silently wished him and his mother luck.

I remember the second time I encountered him, this time the sky disguised by charcoal puffs of clouds, accompanied with constant showers of rain. The boy had aged into his early teens, this time accompanied by a girl his age. Similar to the first time, he was aboard a train. Unlike the first time, however, no woman was accompanying him,  a key worn around his neck instead. A hint as to where his mother was: I had a meeting with her earlier that month.I came to pick up the life of two men, and I arrived just in time. If I had the ability to turn back time, I would have arrived earlier. Little Garven Jaeger was kneeling beside the girl, her hems of her dress soaked with blood.
       "Like I said, if you don't fight, there's no way you can survive. This world is cruel. If you win, you live, if you lose you die."
       He was completely calm, despite the two corpses decomposing behind him. His voice did not waver, his eyes were merciless. The girls face was only blank, her breathing steady, though her eyes shook. She kept her gaze to the floor, and spoke.
       "Where do I go from here?"  A pause.
       "Try not to worry to much. My name is Garven Jaeger. What is yours?" The girl waited a few seconds to reply.
       "Rosa."
       "Just Rosa?"
       "Just Rosa."
I collected what was needed and left the scene. I only had a minute to spare, and I could sense that the children were going to linger there for a while longer.

The last time I see him, it has only been a year. He was accompanied with two of his age, one boy, and one girl. The girl, I realized was Trudy from the night I last saw him. The three were smiling and talking excitedly. The other boy with Garven was continuously waving an extremely thick book around. I realize I have indeed seen him before, and I wonder how in the world he became acquainted with Garven and Rosa. Then, something fell from the skies. Before realization hit any of them, There was a flash, followed by an explosion.  It happened very suddenly, though I can not say I was not expecting it. I was scheduled to take many lives that day, including the trio's. Garven Jaeger's last movement was used to grab the key around his neck. Then, taking his final breath, he let out a soft "no." Taking away their lives was much like robbery, they were survivors, and they had the potential to live lives much longer than they did. They did not deserve the death they were given, and it saddens me. Even death has a heart. As I took away their souls, I notice the book clutched tightly by the unnamed boy. I hesitated, and I took it with me. Later I find out I steal the trio's most valuable object.  Scribbled on the front with messy writing was "By Luke, Rosa, and Garven." Inside those pages were a story that I would truly remember.