Serious Replies – is the grim reaper real?
Before I explain my circumstances, I would like to set the record straight that by grim reaper, I do not mean some skeleton in a cloak holding a shear. The figure to which i’m referring to…is the encompassment of evil.
A few weeks ago, a good friend of mine committed suicide and I, unfortunately, was the one who found him. The real fucked up part about this is that he wasn’t dead yet when I found him, but it was also too late. We lived in a two bedroom apartment near Central Park with a tremendous view of the empire state building. We’re both accountants for major firms downtown and his parents were providing us a great deal on this tiny apartment.
I had to stay late one night to catch up on some work I had missed while sick. When I finally got home, it was around 8 p.m. and I was ready for a beer. Upon entering the apartment, I felt a cold rush send a tingle up my spine and the atmosphere was heavy enough to cut the tension. The balcony door was wide open with the curtains gently swaying in the breeze. All of the lights were off with the exception of the cracked bathroom door down the hall. The TV was on, but not connected to cable, allowing that piercing white noise screech to fill the room. I immediately went to turn it off while calling out my buddies name. No response.
I noticed a poured, sitting whiskey drink on the counter. I set my phone down next to the accompanying bottle I had bought a week prior, that was now almost completely empty. I figured he got off early and had a bit too much to drink, which would explain the mess and that he was probably in the bathroom not feeling very well.
As I walked down the dark hallway towards the bathroom to check on him, I had that nervous knot in my stomach where something seems on edge – at that moment, I couldn’t put my finger on what was causing it. Something was not ordinary and it felt as if I was not alone, or being watched from behind. The anxiety slowly built as I approached the door that by the time I grasped the handle to push open, my heart was pounding through my chest.
Hesitantly, I got the door slowly open and I saw him in the bathtub with both wrists slit. There was no water and he was fully clothed as the blood streamed down the side of the tub and down the walls. The razor blades sitting in his lap were drenched in a dark red. He opened his eyes one last time and whispered, “He’s here.” I tied two pieces of my shirt I had ripped off around each arm trying to cut circulation. While I scrambled out of the bathroom to go grab my phone, I saw the quick movement of, what I believe to be, a person. It was bald and pale white, wearing black clothes of a style I’ve never seen before. I ran to my phone and dialed 911, noticing the whiskey glass was now empty. By the time the paramedics arrived, it was too late.
I informed the cops of his last words and the figure I saw. They said due to no signs of forced entry and the circumstances, I imagined the person and it was just the suicide of a depressed individual.
Following everything that happened, I found his journal and discovered notes and entries pertaining to him seeing a figure resembling closely to what I saw. The older entries started with just seeing the figure on smoke breaks or while out at the bars. As the entries became more recent, the figure started appearing more and more and apparently had gotten close enough for my buddy to draw descriptions. It was indeed bald, the face looked hollow and older but without wrinkles, the eyes were always completely black with no pupil or white space. My friend also noted how he would hear guttural voices following this mans appearance telling him to do awful things to himself and others. In the last entry, dated the same day he died, he said the figure had found a way into the apartment and was after him. The voices were telling him the grim reaper had arrived and that if he didn’t take his own life, he would know suffering worse than he had ever experienced before.
When I was attending my friends funeral, I noticed this “grim reaper” across the graveyard and he was staring directly at me. When I adjusted my eyes, he had disappeared and I felt an uncomfortable presence the rest of the service. I started having dark thoughts about how easy it would be to murder the pastor. The service ended and I returned home and his journal is now gone.
Since then, I have occasionally seen him while I’ve been out but have not heard any voices afterwards. I’m not sure what is real anymore and what isn’t, if anyone could provide any help or insight, it would be greatly appreciated.
Submitted July 15, 2018 at 01:47PM by graufather