I awoke in a cold sweat. This was the third night I had spent on the island and for the third time I found my sleep plagued by disturbing visions. I raised my head from the pillow and turned to look at the clock on the bedside table. The red digits proudly proclaimed the time as 4.36am, this was intolerable. I was used to early starts, on normal day I woke up at 5am each morning to perform a vigourous cardiovascular workout but this was supposed to be a holiday. Sitting up, I sighed as I stretched out my neck and arms, the taut muscles flexing, readying themselves for the challenges of the day.
The prospect of sleep seemed a lost cause and so I left the bed, strode over to the window and opened the curtains. I took the lighter and a cigarette from the packet on the windowsill and looked out over the beach that adjoined my home for the next two weeks. In the dim light of dawn the phantoms that had haunted my dreams began to lose their form and I found myself struggling to remember what had tormented me so.
I lit the cigarette and, as I inhaled deeply, something in the distance caught my eye. Standing on the beach was a lone figure. Clad in a black robe which covered him head to foot he appeared to be staring at the ground directly beneath him. I thought it strange but paid little mind to it, my time on the island had taught me that the locals were a curious, superstitious lot and I found it best to avoid interaction wherever possible. I was about to turn away when suddenly the figure looked up; his gaze pointed directly at me. At the same time the alarm on the bedside clock kicked into life, a high-pitched tone filling the room. I couldn’t remember setting an alarm and as I looked over I was shocked at what I saw, the clock now revealed the time as 6.66am. Impossible I thought, I haven’t been awake that long. It was then that I noticed the figure on beach had disappeared.
I vaulted nimbly over the bed and rushed out the front door (a previous adventure had taught me that leaving doors unlocked was actually the safer option). I sprinted down to the waterfront determined to confront to the mysterious person, perhaps they, the strange behaviour of my clock and the troubling visions were connected? Unfortunately, I was too late; the beach was deserted with the exception of an old man walking his dog.
“Did you see him?” I cried out. “The figure in black, which way did he go”
The man took a moment to look me up and down before spitting onto the sand. “Dunno what you’re talkin bout mister. No-one round here but me and Truffles ere.” The dog looked up mournfully at the mention of his name. “There be the legend ‘o’ The Reaper, course. Perhaps it were im ye saw?”
At the mention of the name I felt a peculiar sensation travel down my spine. “What do mean? Who is this Reaper?”
The man spat again and looked out towards the raging seas. “I’ll not speak of it me’self, pr’haps others will but not me. I’ll tell ye this though, those that av seen im ain’t long for this world, I’d leave the island sooner rather than later if I were ye.”
Anger rose in me. “I’ll not be scared off damn it! I didn’t become a Marketing Systems Officer by running from a fight. If this Reaper, as you call him, wishes to claim me then so be it but he’ll find me tricky prey to ensnare.”
The man turned away from the sea to look back and as he spoke I thought I saw the briefest hint of sadness in his eyes. “So be it, but don’t say I didn’t warn ye.” I began to walk back to the house but stopped briefly as I heard the old man speak again. “Here’s some advice from me though. If ye do intend on facing down The Reaper then put some clothes on first eh?”
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