CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT Chapter 002 [The Book Of The Reaper]

Bowie Gray

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CHAPTER 002
SALEM, MASSACHUSETTS
FEBRUARY 21ST, 2003

A younger Bowie was seated inside the principle’s office, he kept his head down with his fingers locked together as his thumbs raced circles around one an another. Another school day and another day Bowie had found himself seated in the principle’s office, but this time it was different as Miss Lockhart the principle of Salem Elementary School had called in Alana, had called in Bowie’s mother. This wasn’t good.

“And what did the little shit do this time?” Alana Gray had asked, she didn’t bother to hide the anger in her voice as she looked at her son, unimpressed would have been an understatement, as she looked ready to rip his fucking head off.

Bowie took one look at his mother. Alana looked like she hadn’t washed her hair in weeks, from a distance you might have thought she had just jumped out of the shower and came to the school, but if you were close enough, you’d see her hair wasn’t wet, just full of grease. She stunk of cigarettes, her eyes were bloodshot, and like her hair, her clothes had looked as if they hadn’t seen a washer in months. His mother was a mess, a pill-popping junkie of a mess.

“Over the last four months, we’ve been noticing a trend with Bowie, Mrs. Gray—”

“And what is that,” she spoke thru her teeth, not taking your eyes from her youngest son.

“It’s isn’t just one thing Mrs. Gray . . . Bowie . . . Inside the classroom seems distracted, like he can’t focus, and we’ve seen many children like Bowie over the years, have concentration issues but Bowie is a step above anything we’ve ever dealt with—”

“This is why you’ve called me here today?” Alana stood up meeting the eyes of Miss Lockhart.
“Because an eight-year-old boy has a busy mind, what eight-year-old doesn’t?”

“It’s just not that Mrs. Gray . . . It’s the violent outburst against his peers and teachers, like—”

Alana Gray jumped in,
“and has he hurt anybody?”

Miss Lockhart nodded her head,
“well no, not yet but we’re worried eventually he might if he doesn’t get the proper help he needs.”

“Help?” Alana Gray had looked insulted at the word help as she dug her nails into the desk of Miss Lockhart. She leaned her upper body over the desk, getting closer to Miss Lockhart, who had started to look a bit uneasy with the situation or maybe for the first time she had smelt the stench of Alana Gray.

“And what help does my boy need exactly, Miss Lockhart?”

Miss Lockhart leaned back into her chair,
“There are certain tests that we could perform to help not just us Mrs. Gray but you as well . . . We have a list of Doctors, who specializes in mental health.”

“Are you saying my son is retarded?”


“No!” Miss Lockhart shouted rising from her seat, “That is not what I am saying Mrs. Gray, I’m saying that from what we’ve witnessed here at Salem Elementary School regarding Bowie, with his mood swings, his inability to focus . . . We just believe there is a strong possibility that Bowie may experience an attention deficit disorder, and with certain incidents that have occurred, Bowie may suffer from a bipolar disorder.”

“Well I know my son better than you, and I think your wrong!”

“That isn’t all Mrs. Gray . . . Sometimes, your son refers to himself the Reaper.”


“I’ve heard about enough from you,” Alana Gray turned to Bowie, and grabbed him by the hand. “Let’s go Bowie, now!”

Alana pulled Bowie from the chair and stormed towards the door, she grabbed the knob spun and almost ripped the door off its hinges as she slammed the door open.


“Mrs. Gray!” Miss Lockhart yelled as she hurried around her desk, “if you don’t take the steps now with Bowie, don’t the road, it will only get worse!”


Miss Lockhart stopped outside her office door, as she watched Alana Gray pull Bowie down that hall and out the schools’ front entrance.

NEWARK, NEW JERSEY
DECEMBER 4TH, 2018

Tell me what it was that you had seen?

The was the question the Soul had repeatedly asked, ever since Bowie stood on the rooftop with Mazikeen. The Soul, he had seen people, people being people, doing what people do. Living their lives. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He didn’t understand what Bowie had seen or what Bowie may have thought he had seen.

Did you see anything at all?

Bowie didn’t respond. They had returned downstairs to Mazikeen home, she had crawled into her tent and curled up into a ball in her sleeping bag and drifted off. While Bowie sat outside her tent on the floor, his legs crossed as he dug into a can of opened uncooked beans with a plastic spoon. He watched Mazikeen, as he scooped a spoon full of beans and stuffed them into his mouth.

Or was it, you’d seen, what you thought she wanted you to see?

In the beginning, it was true, he wasn’t sure what he had seen, he was confused, but then after hours of talking to Mazikeen, he had understood what she was trying to show him up there, she was showing him the toppling of the human race. A human race that had needed to be cleansed. Human’s had lost their way, and they were a disease. Humans were stupid, humans where a disgrace, they had been given an opportunity and they had wasted it. Today, humans didn’t have a clue, they would fight for something only because somebody had told them to even if they didn’t understand what they were fighting for. They would hate on others, judge others because somebody else disliked another human being, even though they didn’t have their own reason to hate. The list went on, but it all came down to the same conclusion, humans didn’t think for themselves anymore, they were like a sheep, and they just follow the herd.


Doesn’t that just make you apart of the herd then?


No. He wasn't like them, he wasn't anything like them. He didn't follow them, because to him, it was them that had created him and maybe if they had thought for themselves, people like Bowie, people like Mazikeen wouldn't have turned out like they are. Freaks, outcasts, or what ever you would label them. Maybe if things were different, but they weren't different.

Then what does it make you, the shepherd?

Bowie didn’t answer. He put down the can of beans and tossed the spoon. Bowie uncrossed his legs and pushed himself up, so he was standing. A sinister grin on his face.

“I ain’t the shepherd, I AM THE FUCKIN’ REAPER . . . I will fuckin’ gather them, I will fuckin’ harvest them, and I will fuckin’ collect them . . . Lead them to there fuckin’ afterlife, and cleansed the world, so maybe next time, evolution can get it fuckin’ right!”

You are a fool Bowie Gray.
 

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