Reaping What Hollywood Sows


And you may ask yourself:

For what purpose might a celestial entity, specifically a reaper of souls, take a pedestrian interest in the medium of film?

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Allow me to retort.

I am the personification of mortal fear: the Angel of Death, the Ferryman, the Grim Reaper, et cetera. In Greek, I am a psychopomp, the guide of newly deceased souls to their final destination. My domain is not the corporeal; I exist between the ticks of a clock, the eternities between falling grains of sand.

A wise individual once wrote, “You lived what anybody gets… you got a lifetime. No more. No less.” Life should never be taken for granted, and as a mythological creation catering to the end of life, I am by definition devoid of it. To purposely discard such a gift is beyond my understanding, but I am nevertheless intrigued by the notion.

Mortal imagination fascinates me, a place my perceptions can neither peer into nor fathom. I can look upon the written word, but lacking experience to call my own, my interpretation is an unreliable narrator. All mortal forms of writing, artistry, and music suggest story and emotion, and while theatre is close to my existential heart, it wasn’t until the creation of motion pictures that all of these converged for me in a meaningful way.

I became obsessed.

A collaborative and cooperative effort, your “filmmaking” harnesses the musings of a writer and guides the direction of actors to create imaginary places and situations, pushing the boundaries of creativity to suspend disbelief. The need for mortals to spread their stories equaled my need to receive them, and in spite of my omniscience, I can partake of them no differently than yourselves.

In this, we are equals. How dare you.

Of course, my purview excludes judgment of one’s soul — not my department — but I have no such restriction with regards to your films. I prefer complexity in both story and character, but I can be lured into spectacle and absolutely seek to be entertained. Thou shalt not bore me.

I must also confess an interest in observing the way mortals watch and and react. When the cinema darkens and your consciousness is consumed by the silver screen, mortals tend to shift in their seats whenever the plot turns. It’s a reminder you’re in a theater safe from harm, all the while glancing around and inwardly embarrassed you might have been noticed.

Perhaps you were noticed — by me, smiling unseen in the darkness next to you. Rest assured your immortal soul wasn’t in any immediate jeopardy.

I was merely enjoying the show.

💀 #grmdrpr

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From the aforementioned wise individual:

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