[ WP ] Everyone has a reaper . The further away it is , the longer you have left to live . Every day it inches a little bit closer , but it is always there . Except yours , which disappeared three weeks ago

So, it's been three weeks since I died. I know I know, everyone says I look a little rough, a little blood stained, head askew, all that nonsense. 
 
 I saw my reaper creeping up. He kept checking his watch and giving me this terrifying bony smile. I knew I needed to cross the road, everything looked clear. Just when I started to sprint; BAM! Out of nowhere, car with no lights on. Thing is, right before I got hit, he just disappeared. 
 
 We all know how it works. When you die, he's supposed to ferry your soul over to the other side. Except mine got distracted. So now my body is just slowly rotting away. I've been wearing a lot of cologne, trying to avoid showering ( the skin starts to fall right off ). People are starting to notice though. My boss keeps asking if things are going well at home, if I've been evicted, if there was some kind of accident. I've been trying to assure him that everything is fine, but it really is n't working. 
 
 It's been two months now. Still no sign of my reaper. I've lost all of the flesh from my feet now. My knees and elbows are almost in the same state. It's winter, so I'm hoping I stay fairly well preserved, but I'm worried that once summer hits there wo n't be anything left. I've stopped sleeping entirely. My apartment is filled with things I just do n't need anymore. I've started to sell all of my possessions. 
 
 Three months. I quit my job. There was an ad out in the newspaper for help on a farm several miles outside the city. I sent an email in, and got a quick YES in response. 
 
 I wear a large cloak with the hood drawn down most days now, but that's more for my own benefit than my employers. The old man who owns the farm does n't seem to mind my stench and has yet to comment on what's got to be the pretty obvious lack of definition under my clothing. I barely see him anyway. He just leaves a list of tasks for me on the porch each morning. His farm is expansive, mostly crops, but there's are some animals too. I've been planting a lot of winter wheat. It feels right, somehow, to be working the earth. I've always hated being outdoors and I hate being near people even more. 
 
 Eight months since my reaper disappeared. Summer has come, and I've lost all of the flesh from my bones. They shine white in the sun. Today is the harvest, and there's a sense of anticipation in the air. My employer is standing on the porch, a scythe outstretched in his bony hands. 
 
 He opens his mouth to speak, the first words I've ever heard from him: ARE YOU READY? 
 

