Mitch was a bully. He had always been a bully. They were in the playground now arguing. As he brought his fist down towards the little girl’s face, something happened. He didn’t know what, but something had certainly happened…
On the other side of the playground the visitor smiled. He looked around. He liked it here. He was a traveller, but he occasionally came across a place that looked interesting. A place that seemed to have so much potential, like this one. When that happened he would hang around awhile. He loved watching the kids; looking on, unseen.
School had just got out. It was a large school, and a huge, bustling mass of bodies came teeming out onto the front footpath. Most of the kids were running, laughing, shouting to each other, swinging their bags around. Some made their way to the bus stop while others went over to the park to carry on playing and taking the opportunity to catch up with friends from other classes they hadn’t seen all day.
They left a commotion behind them in a far corner of the playground, where a teacher was bent over the body of a small boy. He was looking around frantically as he spoke into his mobile. Another teacher stood back a little, comforting a small girl who just couldn’t stop sobbing. Yes. He loved watching them.
Mitch found himself sprawled on a hot, gravely floor. He opened his eyes to the dark and blinked. He was faintly aware of a figure nearby, but couldn’t make it out. The only source of light came from the horizon; a great orange glow with flames licking up into a black sky. There was a horrible stench in the place but he didn’t recognise it. The figure moved a little closer but said nothing. Its empty eye sockets seemed to pick up the light and emitted a faint glimmer.
Mitch suddenly recognised the Reaper for what he was. Even at his tender age he knew that he had been taken. He had been brought down into the terrible depths of Hell. He knew that he was now about to be cast into the great, fiery, bottomless pit. It was Mitch’s turn to sob.
Later, in the lab, two men stood by the metal table looking at Mitch’s sad little body.
The inspector slowly shook his head. “I just don’t get it.” He looked up at the man washing his hands. “This doesn’t make sense to me. How could this happen?”
“It does. Oh yes, cases of kids around seven and eight suffering a sudden heart attack. Of course, it is by no means common, but it does happen.”
The inspector scratched his neck. “Yes, but six in only two weeks?”