I found out ghosts are a thing I could see now. Even scarier than that, I can also see the Reaper spirits that guide them to the afterlife. After taking Mr. Peterson from next door to...well, wherever it is he was going, the Reaper, Alma, as she had introduced herself, said she''d come back to check on me.


    She had told me it was unusual for mortals to see ghosts, but not uncommon. However, being able to see her was another thing. Apparently, I could look deeper into the Veil, she had called it, then normal.


    I sparked up the crumpled joint I had hid in my bloodstained sweater and turned up the volume on my headphones. I pressed them closer to my ears, almost intimately, as I inhaled. Breathing too deeply still hurt my stomach wound, but I had been healing abnormally fast. I sat on the roof of the hospital and exhaled slowly.


    The black night sky was littered with little freckles of light. I could almost see her smile in the sliver of moon that was visible. I was bitter and love-struck all at once. I was ever the hopeless romantic. But every time I think of her, I see him. That troll-looking behemoth of a man that she had replaced me with. I don’t know what she saw in him.


    I pulled deeply on my rolled green comfort and exhaled my pain. I’d learned to live with pain, physical pain at least. I had been an accident prone child, tumbling out of trees, falling face first off bikes and whacking my shins with scooters. When I had discovered hanging out in basements, smoking pot and playing video games, I had quickly traded my active lifestyle for something...more safe.


    “You shouldn’t be up here.” I heard a voice say behind me.


    “Took you long enough.” I said, hearing the footsteps approach from behind me. Anders sat down next to me, facing inward on the ledge, opposite to my legs dangling precariously off the roof.


    “You would not believe the last few days I’ve had.” He chuckled and ran his hand back through his hair. It wasn’t greased back this time. He actually looked like a mess. Not only was his hair sticking out everywhere, his tacky grey suit was wrinkled and perhaps blood splattered?


    “It can’t be as bad as being disemboweled." I bemused.


    “You’d be surprised.” He sighed and turned to face me. “So you’ve had a few nights to considered the offer, you''re interested in joining the Order of Vigilance?”


    “I told you over the phone, I’m down to clown, but I want to know more about what it is you guys do. What is this Artifact you told me about?" I exhale a puff of smoke, and the wind blows it into Anders face. He looked so tired that he didn''t even flinch.


    "The Order of Vigilance is the only line of defense between this world and the unseen. All across the globe, members of the Order are trained to deal with all kinds of threats from magic to demons and everything else that goes bump in the night. Chances are, any fairytale, myth or legend you''ve heard is true. Hell, even some literary fiction is based on real Order members." He told me. I stared at him for a minute and then looked down at the cars rushing by below me on University Street.


    "You know, I woulda laughed in your face if you had told me that a few days ago." I chuckled. Anders looked at me puzzled.


    "I''m used to that. What changed?" He asked, genuinely curious.


    "I saw the ghost of the dude in the room next to me. And he was being led away by a Reaper." I told him.


    Anders froze for a moment, as if the gears in his head were spinning wildly out of control.


    "This might actually confirm what the Order had thought in the first place." He said after a moment.


    "Confirm what? That I''m the kid from Sixth Sense?" I smirked.


    “The Order has obtained what is believed to be Death’s Scythe due to an...unfortunate accident. However, everyone who has tried to pick it up so far has had their soul torn from their body, or simply dropped dead.” He half smiled trying to sell it like a old used car.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    “The fuck do you mean souls torn from their body? I’m not down for dying. Again.” I told him. Panic began to set in as I realized all this, the ghosts, the ghouls, the weird scythe, were real.


    “We have a theory that since you’ve died already and come back, part of you is already in the afterlife and since you are seeing ghosts and apparently Reapers, that would confirm our suspicions that part of you has touched the other side. So theoretically you should have no problem using the Scythe. If you are successful it and you could prove to be valuable assets to the Order and its struggle to collect and contain other powerful Artifacts. There are lots of bad people out there that would do anything to get there hands on something like that." He explained.


    I didn''t know what to say. Which was an ongoing problem, as not being able to communicate probably let to my now ex-girlfriend cheating on me.


    “I guess I could try. What more do I have to lose? It’s not like I have a whole lot going for me anyway." I sighed. I watched as the moon was hidden by some clouds, but the city lights made it seem like the moonlight was never there to begin with.


    “Excellent. I’ll write down the address of the Cathedral. All you have to do is show up when you’re ready and we will introduce you to the team. I promise you, if you do well, you’ll have years of excitement and more than enough money to retire early.” His smile was clearly fake, like some long forgotten memory crept beneath the surface. “You’ll make new friends that could last a life time if you foster them properly. There are a lot of very special people who work for the Order."


    When he said it, it was as if he was looking through me. Like he was reciting a script he had said and heard a hundred times before.


    Anders pulled a pen from his breast pocket and scribbled the address on a receipt he pulled from his pants. When he leaned in I noticed he stank of blood and sweat. Somehow he still managed to reek of cologne too. He grabbed my hand and forced the paper into it.


    “You don’t have to do this though, Dyson. If you don’t show up at the Cathedral, I will not hold it against you. Its a big commitment.” He whispered. Close enough so that his breath on my ear was uncomfortable. Maybe he doesn''t think I can cut it. Perhaps his reservation is him having second thoughts about me.


    “Don’t worry I’ll be there.” I said confidently.


    He stared at me for a long moment and nodded before walking off. When he got to the door, he turned back to look at me, over his shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. I was beginning to feel like there might have been a stark difference between Anders the weird businessman, and Anders the human being.


    “If you’ve got something to say, just say it.” I finished my joint and threw it down the side of the hospital to watch it float.


    “She’s...not worth your pain.” He said softly. So softly I almost couldn''t hear it over the wind. I felt the blood drain from my face.


    “What are you talking about?” I ask. Not exactly the best cover.


    “I know that look on your face. When you stare up at the moon and think of her. You compare her beauty to everything in life that once allured you. You see her in all the things that used to make you happy. She touched your soul and something resonates there. But there is so much pain.” He cringed a bit before opening the door to the stairs. “Like it or not, she’ll be a wound you carry your whole life, whether it’s the one on your belly or the one in your heart. But you’ll survive.”


    There was a longing, almost pleading, in his voice. I was unsure if he was trying to convince me, or himself.


    And then he was gone.


    Alone on the roof, with the freckled sky and the smiling moon, I thought of the woman I used to love. My scar.


    “She’s not mine anymore.” Saying it out loud was painful and cathartic. The sound of my voice was haunting.


    "You will always be my muse, my source, my energy. But you are a force of destruction in my life now. There is nothing left for me with you. There is nothing left for me anywhere." I said out loud, feeling the wind sweep away the tear that stung my face. The pain began to feel borrowed, like my time. If part of me truly was in the afterlife, as Anders and Alma had thought, then I hoped that it was the part of me that still clung to her.


    I looked down at the address in my hand. I knew what I had to do now. Besides, the money was good and who can pass up an opportunity to meet ''unique individuals''. I’d have to get the doctor to give me some morphine to go. There was nothing else medical healing could do for me. My soul felt torn but my future was the poultice.


    Seated on the edge of the world with the moon and my pain, I realized that I was truly free.


    I could fly from here.


    Be part of something.


    A surge of realization jumped through me and I stood quickly. I was so excited that I had forgotten I was sitting on the edge of the hospital roof. The flying part was actually kind of fun, even if it wasn''t planned. It had been a rough couple of days. Also, the concrete hitting my face at like, a hundred miles an hour, tasted worse than it felt.


    Not that I could really feel anything.