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Welcome! This is a story about being dead, fun, right?! The plan is for there to be an overarching main story, set up here in the prologue, but each chapter will be focused on an individual that comes to our protagonist through her job while I drip feed the main story throughout. The hope is that this will be a story that, eventually, makes you feel good despite literally everyone in it being dead. #ghostsarepeopletoo Anyway, if you like what you see here and want more let me know in the comments and like the story, if you don't, let me know in the comments and don't like the story, if you're just here for reading and not interacting, that's cool, I hope you enjoy my work regardless. On with the show! Cause Of Death: Embarrassment By: The Unknown Author Prologue Excerpt from D.E.A.T.H. new caseworker orientation “Death is the great mystery of humankind, specifically, what happens after a person dies. Different religions have different theories, beliefs that drive their members to be “good” people with the promise of a paradise beyond their mortal life and warn them of being “bad” for fear of ending up tortured and suffering in the afterlife. Some believe that there is no afterlife, that they’ll be reincarnated into another living thing once their life is over, others believe that there is merely nothing after someone dies, you just die and stop being aware of anything else as the empty void swallows your consciousness. The truth of it all is that when someone dies their “soul” comes here to the Department of Expiration and Afterlife Tallying in the Hereafter or D.E.A.T.H., when a person arrives at D.E.A.T.H., they are paired with a caseworker that goes over the defining moments of their life and the circumstances surrounding their death with the goal of bringing about acceptance of said demise to avoid said person becoming a ghost. As a caseworker, you will be given a file for each new arrival and will be expected to greet them when they arrive with a warm and welcoming tone as the transition process from the living realm to this one will leave them disoriented, fragments of knowledge about their situation may exist, but it is your chief goal to keep them calm and listening to you and not let them take control of the conversation. They will ask questions about why they are where they are and it will be your duty to reassure them, providing their file indicates they’ll be moving on to a better place, that their being with you is merely a formality and you’re working to expedite their transition as quickly and efficiently as possible. Should they be heading to a worse place, you’re to keep that information from them until you’ve completed your duty of setting up their transfer to avoid a vengeful spirit returning to the living realm. Performing well as a caseworker will provide you with the opportunity to advance within the organization. There are many different career paths available to those with an aptitude for handling the affairs of the dead such as: Reaping Accounting Unborn Soul Caretaking Training New Caseworkers And so many more! Some of you may be wondering why you were chosen for this role and the answer is simple, you and every other caseworker is uniquely qualified to be an important part of this organization and have been granted knowledge beyond your own life and time to allow you to aid others in their journey forward. Welcome to D.E.A.T.H.! ********* Working at D.E.A.T.H. is a lot like when you eat popcorn and get a hull stuck in your tooth that no matter how much you tongue it it just sticks there and you resign yourself to that being your life but then when it finally dislodges you feel such immense relief that you praise yourself for enduring such a hardship for those four and a half minutes that felt like weeks. Time, as a concept, doesn’t exist in our business, the living experience days and weeks but we have an eternal stretch of routine. The powers that be have blessed us with “time off” from our jobs in the form of the chronological equivalent to the blink of an eye, but we make due with what we’re given the best we can and then we’re instantly back at our desk again. That said, if “Monday’s” existed in the afterlife, this new assignment I’ve been given would be the equivalent of an eternity of Monday’s all stacked up on top of each other. “You’re not listening to me!” the woman seated in the chair in front of my desk shouted as she slammed her hands down on the desk, her entire form rippling and distorting briefly, signaling to me that she was headed for a vengeful spirit meltdown. I stood up calmly and walked around my desk to be at her side, putting my arm around her, “Hey, Samantha,” I said in a soothing tone, “I’m listening, but I need you to also listen to me, okay?” I asked. She was silent, her form stable once more. “Okay.” I said, taking my arm from her and kneeling down beside her, “Now, we’re in a bit of disagreement about how you died, right?” I asked. She glared at me, “No, you’re just wrong!” she spat. I sighed softly and reached up to retrieve the folder from my desk and opened it and scanned the document within until I found the part I was looking for, “It says that you experienced an event so humiliating that your soul left your body.” I told her. She smacked the file out of my hand, “Do you know how stupid that sounds?!” she shouted, her form rippling and writhing wildly once more. I picked the folder up and stood, “Okay, let’s see what happened then.” I said, going to the small table against the wall that held a television and remote on it. I turned the TV on and the image of Samantha appeared on the screen. Her form shuddered as she looked down at the ground, “Please, don’t make me watch it.” she pleaded. I ignored her, focusing on driving the point that she was wrong home to shut her up and get her out of my hair once and for all, “You don’t have to watch, but I am going to narrate what I see.” I told her. The image on the screen was basically a CCTV recording of Samantha’s kitchen, the recording being done from somewhere above and away from the circular table in the kitchen. Samantha was seated in a larger than normal highchair, her blonde hair tied up into adorable pigtails, her long legs dangling above the floor, swinging back and forth as she scooped a handful of chocolate pudding up from the little pink bowl on the tray locked in place in front of her and brought it to her mouth, slathering her cheeks and chin in the process and dripping some onto not just the bib around her neck, but also the very pretty dress she was wearing. I looked over at her where she sat in front of my desk and smiled at her, though her eyes were still cast to the floor and thus couldn’t see me looking at her. “Your dress is very pretty.” I told her. She was still wearing the lavender party dress, the frills beneath made her look like a flower turned upside down where she sat. She looked up at me and immediately back down to the floor when she saw me smiling, “Th-thank you.” she stammered. The pudding spots remained on the bib she still wore, a frilly pink number with “Daddy’s Messy Eater” written in elegant flowing cursive, and her cheeks and chin were still marred with the remnants of the treat, making me impressed with myself for not laughing at her when she tried to assert herself and overpower me in this situation. The man in the recording set down his paper and looked at his watch and then at the Samantha, sighing as he got up from the kitchen table, “Did you enjoy your pudding, baby?” he asked, gently stroking her hair with one hand. She looked up at him and nodded, “Yes, Daddy, it was very nummy!” she chirped. He bent forward so his face was level with hers, “Daddy put an extra special something into it to prepare you for your surprise.” he told her. Samantha furrowed her brow, “What-” she started to say before she stopped speaking, her face looking shocked as she looked from the bowl of pudding and back up at him. Taking a step back from her, he chuckled, “Pathetic.” he sneered. The sound of a doorbell ringing made me turn my attention back to the TV, noting that Samantha winced at the sound, her form shuddering once more, but not angrily this time. In the highchair, Samantha had stopped swinging her legs and enjoying her dessert, and had frozen in place as she looked to the sound of the doorbell, leaning this way and that to try and see something off screen. Her face contorted into abject terror as she shook her head vehemently and squirmed in the highchair, her cries of “No.” repeating over and over again, growing more frantic and panicked as a man and woman appeared from where the doorbell had rang. “Please.” Samantha said quietly. I paused the video. “Please, what?” I asked. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and pleading, “Don’t make me watch it.” she begged. “What happened?” I asked. She shook her head. I plucked the document from the folder, “Samantha Walters, age thirty four, was engaged in an Adult Baby play session with her husband and Daddy, William Walters, eating pudding that, unbeknownst to her, contained sedatives to limit her ability to fight against him, in her highchair when he excused himself for a moment to answer the door.” I read, eyeing the shaking woman seated before me above the paper briefly before continuing, “A short time after he excused himself, William returned with his-” I stopped reading aloud and read with just my eyes for a bit before stopping and lowering the paper to look at Samantha. She wasn’t able to cry, but the shudder of her form told me she was performing the spiritual equivalent of a sobbing emotional breakdown. I closed the distance between us and knelt down in front of her, hooking my finger beneath her chin and lifting it gently so she was looking at me, though her eyes tried to look anywhere but into mine. “What he did to you was awful.” I said sympathetically. She nodded, “I trusted him and let myself be truly vulnerable.” she whispered sullenly. I nodded, “I know, honey, but, I can’t change any of what happened, I just need you to accept that the humiliation of what he did was what ultimately, and tragically, ended your life so that you can move on.” I told her. She looked down at the floor, “To Heaven?” she asked, her demeanor and tone changing to something more akin to the age she was dressed as rather than her chronological age. I nodded, “According to your file, you’ve got a happy afterlife ahead of you.” I said, “But only if you let go of your hurt and anger.” I added. “If you hold onto that then you’ll be an angry ghost for a really long time and all you’ll feel is pain and hatred until you eventually forget why it is you’re so hurt and angry and you just disappear.” I explained, slipping into a tone more suitable for a young child. She nodded softly, “Is Heaven nice?” she asked. I sighed and shrugged, “Honestly, honey, I’ve never been, but I’m sure it’s great.” I told her. She looked over at the paused screen and then down at her outfit, “I felt really cute.” she confessed. “Like, my outside self matched my inside self for real for the first time and I wasn’t just pretending and playing dress up.” she continued. “Then he spoiled everything.” she pouted. I stroked her cheek softly, “He didn’t deserve a little girl as pretty and sweet as you, honey.” I told her. She smiled and threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly, “I’m sorry I got angry and yelled at you.” she said quietly. I hugged her back, rubbing her back and patting it softly, “It’s okay, I know how hard and scary it is dealing with all of this stuff suddenly.” I told her, “But I know that there’s nothing but happiness in your future and no one will ever hurt you again.” I added. She broke our embrace and nodded softly, “I’m ready.” she said before her form shuddered one final time as she accepted her fate and she began to glow brightly and then was gone from where she sat. I rose slowly and smiled, “Good girl.” I praised to the now empty office, turning my attention back to the TV to finish watching the recording. The man and woman that had entered were holding hands, the woman laughing at Samantha as her head lolled to the side to look at them from her place in the highchair. “Wow, you weren’t kidding, she’s adorable!” the woman cooed as she let go of the man’s hand and went to the highchair. The man chuckled, “Yeah, until you have to change her shitty diapers.” he cruelly joked. The woman looked over at him and knelt down, reaching up to push the wad of frills away to peek at Samantha’s diaper, effortlessly batting the girls legs away as she weakly struggled against her pervy intruder, her hands covering her face as she rose and looked at the woman, “Such pretty diapers!” she cooed, “Mommy can’t wait to see you fill them up for her!” she added, patting Samantha’s head as the woman in the highchair lazily pulled her head away to escape the touch before she trotted back over to the man and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Who she, Willm?” Samantha asked drunkenly, her words slurred and more akin to baby talk then she realized. William grabbed a handful of the woman’s ass and pulled her close to him, kissing her deeply before he lifted her up and spun around to set her onto the counter behind him. “This is Kiki, baby, and she is going to be your new Mommy, Sammy.” he said, kissing the Auburn haired woman’s neck as his hand groped her breast through her blouse. “Your Daddy needs a real woman, sweetheart.” Kiki teased, “When he puts you down for your little nappy naps in your crib, I’m who he calls to come keep him company.” she said, “When you’re filling your diapers, he’s looking at the pictures I send him of what a real woman looks like.” she teased. Samantha was crying now and awkwardly batted the bowl of pudding off the tray of the highchair, a gesture meant to be powerful and show them how angry she was, but simply made her look like a clumsy baby having a tantrum, “Oo cheeding bassad.” she slurred. William and Kiki ignored her outburst, William kneeling down to slide Kiki’s panties off her, “See these?” he asked his wife as he held up the lacy red garment, “These are damp with desire for me,” he said, walking over to the highchair and shoving the panties into Samantha’s face, “not with piss because you can’t control yourself.” he spat. Samantha whimpered and tried to pull her head away, but found herself too weak and slow to do more than sob into the panties that William held against her face, the smell of the other woman’s arousal and the indignity she was suffering making her blood boil, “I divose oo.” she squeaked. William glanced over at his wife and snorted, “How?” he asked, turning back to her, “I can keep you sedated and locked up in your crib until the day you die and no one will even know you’re gone.” he hissed, walking back to her slowly, “You have no friends,” he said raising his index finger and counting it, “no family,” he counted on his middle finger, “no job,” he counted on his ring finger, “and no kids.” he counted on his pinkie as he reached the highchair. “You’re nothing but a helpless and worthless freak, and you will accept your role as the baby of this house and Kiki as your Mommy even if I have to beat every last atom of adulthood and independence out of you.” he threatened. “Now, apologize to Mommy and Daddy for being naughty and pushing your pudding onto the floor.” he commanded. The gears in Samantha’s mind slowly turned at how malicious and aggressive her husband was being, how a man that had shown her nothing but love and care as a Daddy was now threatening her with physical violence not only broke her heart, but left her a blubbering mess of rage with no way to express it, of hurt with no ability to say anything to change it. Kiki walked over, her high heels clicking on the floor of the kitchen as she took her spot beside her man and looked at the pathetic example of a woman before her, “You better apologize, baby girl.” she warned. Samantha looked up at the pair with tears streaming down her cheeks, her life was ruined, her marriage was over, her adulthood was being rescinded, and she was strapped into a highchair in her once favorite dress, her hair done into pigtails by Daddy after he’d gotten her changed and dressed. She sobbed at the memory of feeling so cute, the embodiment of the little version of her that lived inside, that sweet little girl that loved her Daddy and felt safe in his arms crushed by the cruel reality of the world, snuffed out by a hateful man with selfishness and malice in his heart. Her head throbbed and her vision blurred, “I-” she started to say before she felt a pop in her head and then nothing. I watched her slump forward in the highchair, the embolism in her brain ending her life instantly, and watched as William and Kiki panicked and argued about what to do, and turned the TV off when they started talking about burying the body somewhere. I returned to my desk and brought up William’s file. Time doesn’t move the same in the afterlife, so, while Samantha had just appeared in my office and moved on with my help, Earth was at a different point entirely. William and Kiki had decided to bury Samantha in the backyard, and did so without issue, but Kiki, overcome with guilt over what had happened, had begun pestering William with notions of coming clean and accepting whatever may happen to them. William, ever serving his own self interests, did to Kiki what he’d threatened Samantha with, drugging the woman and keeping her locked up in the nursery his late wife had once occupied. I skimmed the document on the screen and stopped when I got to the end, smiling with morbid satisfaction. William had slipped in the shower and become paralyzed but alive, though he’d landed on the drain and effectively plugged it with his body and lived his last agonizing minutes watching the water level in the tub rise until he drowned. Meanwhile, Kiki, drugged and shackled in the crib, starved to death but suffered greatly thanks to a severe case of diaper rash caused by William failing to change her for several days. I checked the final location for both and nodded approvingly at their appointment to somewhere very unpleasant for the duration of eternity and closed the file. I mentioned that today was the first day of my new appointment, but I failed to share what that appointment was. I am “Head of Embarrassment Induced Life Termination”, which is a fancy way of saying that when someone “dies of embarrassment” it’s not hyperbolic, they may have physically had a heart attack or stroke or something, but the sheer humiliation they endured led to their demise and I get to explain that to them and make them accept what happened to them, neat, right? Also, even though I’m “Head” of that field, I am the only person handling those cases, why, you might ask, well, because of who my boss is. ********* “How did your first case go?” She asked, her fingers tented on her much larger than my own desk in her much larger than my own office. I nodded, “Fine.” I said. “Samantha Walters transitioned successfully.” I added. “I understand you continued watching her video after she transitioned and looked into the fate of her husband and his mistress.” she said, her lips pursing as she stared at me above her glasses. “Is that not allowed?” I asked. She stood and folded her arms behind her back, looking out the window at the infinite sea of cubicles below, “Ella, when a spirit dwells on what happened to them for too long, what happens?” she asked me without turning around. I sighed, “A spirit returns to Earth as a ghost when they refuse to accept their fate.” I said flatly. She turned and nodded, “And if an agent of D.E.A.T.H. were, let’s just say, to take too great of an interest in the affairs of the living or recently deceased?” she asked. I scoffed, “Are we really going to have this conversation again?” I snapped. She raised an eyebrow, “Watch your tone.” she warned. “I’m justifiably concerned about your attachment to the living.” she reminded. “You’re not to go any further than is necessary in the course of your duties, am I understood?” she asked. If I still had blood, it would’ve rushed to my face, “Is that an order from my boss or from my overbearing big sister?” I sneered. She sighed and took a seat on the edge of her desk in front of me, “As your boss, I’m warning you to do your job and not linger on your cases any more than is necessary.” she said calmly before she leaned in so she was face to face with me, “As your older sister, I’m telling you that if you sass me again, I’ll make sure your next post is even less desirable than your current one.” she said softly. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I whined. She rolled her eyes, “Ever the sniveling brat, aren’t you?” she asked rhetorically before sighing heavily, “I can’t leave you alone because it’s my job to account for the activities of my subordinates.” she reminded me, her tone authoritative but calm, “Also, because not all that long ago we had quite the issue with you and your,” she paused, searching for the word she wanted to use, “fascination” she said with a smug smirk, “with the living.” she said. “Oh, I’m sorry that I chose to come up here and have you lecture me about pointless shit, Mira.” I spat. “How rude it was of me to interrupt your busy schedule of smelling your own farts and congratulating yourself for being the daughter that died with dignity.” I snapped, folding my arms across my chest petulantly. “That’s not fair and you know it.” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. She stood and returned to her seat, “You’re dismissed.” she said coldly, “But know that I’m monitoring your work going forward and if I see any warning signs, I’m pulling you from the floor.” she warned. I stood and made a theatrical bowing gesture, “Adieu, your highness.” I sneered before storming out of her office and slamming the door behind me. ********* “Everything alright?” a small voice asked from the doorway of my office some time later. I looked up from my monitor and smiled, “Yeah.” I said. “Just Mira being Mira.” I added. The little girl at the door crossed the threshold and hoisted herself up and into the chair in front of my desk. Lucy was perpetually four years old, and was the head of the children’s division of Reapers, her job is exactly as depressing as it sounds, but Lucy is sweet and amazing at her job and makes sure every client is happy and at peace when she brings them in. We can dress however we want, but Lucy leans into the four year old she looks like and wears cute little overalls with snaps up the inseam and crotch and these little Velcro shoes that light up and squeak when she walks and she has the most adorable little Afro that makes me want to scoop her up and snuggle her to pieces until I remember that she’s hundreds of years old at this point and hates being talked down to and treated like a child. “What’s got her knickers in a twist now?” Lucy asked. I sighed, “She’s worried that I’m going to go ghost because I watched a client’s video after they transitioned and looked up the husband and his mistress afterward.” I explained. “Are you?” she asked. I looked at her quizzically, “Am I what?” I asked. “Gonna go spook?” she asked. “No!” I said a little louder than I meant to, “This woman died of embarrassment because her dick hole husband slash Daddy drugged her against her will and brought his mistress over during highchair pudding time and proceeded to threaten her with a life of captivity and abuse if she didn’t accept her role as baby of the house.” I explained, “I was curious to see everything unfold and wanted a resolution to the story.” I clarified. Lucy nodded slowly, “Sounds like another Allison situation.” she said. I closed my eyes for a moment and saw a flash of Allison before opening my eyes, “We agreed never to mention her.” I reminded her. She smiled at me and nodded, though her smile did little to mask her worry, “We did agree to that, because it’s natural to have feelings like that.” she said. “I still struggle when I have to bring in a kid that drowned.” she told me. “It’s just not healthy to focus so hard on them that you go ghost.” she added. I nodded, “I know, and I’m fine.” I said flatly. “Thank you for checking on me though.” I added, smiling at her. She returned my smile, “Wanna hang out after work?” she asked as she slid off the chair and headed to the door. “Do you mind?” I asked. She shook her head, “Babysitting is fun.” she teased, sticking her tongue out at me and giggling as she slipped out the door, the squeak of her shoes making me smile. ********* I don’t know how Heaven and Hell, or whatever they’re called by whoever ends up there operate, but at D.E.A.T.H., because the work floor is an infinite labyrinth of cubicles and offices, we kind of just appear where we want or need to be at any given time, so after stepping out of my office, I’m instantly stepping into what is basically my living quarters, an oxymoron to be sure, but it is what it is. The thought is that if we have an outlet outside of our work that we won’t fall into the dangerous behavior like spending all our time coveting the living’s lives and filling ourselves with resentment and longing that causes us to turn into vengeful spirits that head to the living world to wreak havoc. Anything we want can be conjured, for lack of a better word, into our living quarters, some people have tables with puzzles in various states of completion, others have an entire orchestra’s worth of instruments to play, while some just watch TV. My living area has changed many times in the hundred plus years since I died and came here, but recently it’s changed to reflect the interests I’ve collected from my time working with the recently deceased, the “Allison” that Lucy had mentioned was the cause of the current setup, and the reason that Mira was so concerned about me. “If she’s so concerned about me becoming obsessed to the point that I turn ghost, why put me on the job she put me on?” I asked Lucy later that evening. Lucy shrugged her shoulders softly, “Exposure therapy?” she offered uncertainly, “Maybe she feels that showing you how things like this have caused people to die will make you not romanticize it.” she added as she twisted the cap on the baby bottle she had filled and brought it over to where I sat on the floor, holding it out for me to take with my outstretched hands. We don’t eat or drink, so nursing a bottle of milk is as useless as the diaper I wore but couldn’t use, it was all pantomime, theater for my senses to trick my brain into feeling like I was experiencing the things they did. “If humiliation were a deterrent, don’t you think I’d be doing this at my own place alone?” I asked between sucks of the bottle’s nipple. Lucy shrugged once more and lowered herself to the floor beside me, stroking my hair gently, “She loves you and just wants to make sure you don’t get into trouble.” she reminded me. I nodded softly and pulled the bottle from my mouth, “If she loved me then she’d let me see her.” I said bitterly. Lucy gently pushed the nipple back into my mouth, “I thought you were coming over to have some baby time, not to bitch and moan about Mira and how unfair things are for you.” she teased, her lips curling into a wicked little smile, “Unless you’re secretly looking for me to take you to Mira for a spanking.” she said, covering her mouth to stifle a soft giggle at my expense. I glared up at her and gave protesting grunt before I closed my eyes and drank my bottle like a good baby. “You know that she probably knows about you and I getting together to play, right?” she asked once the bottle was empty and set aside to be replaced with my pacifier. I shook my head, “She’s evil, but she still respects my privacy off the clock.” I said, pacifier bobbing as my garbled words came out around the sizable teat. Lucy stood and stretched, her overalls dissolving into pink footed pajamas, “We have some time left if you want to cuddle in the crib.” she offered. I nodded and willed my outfit to match hers, the bottom of my pajamas bulging around my diaper where hers were smooth and taught against her body. “Why don’t you ever wear diapers with me?” I asked as I crawled beside her to the nursery she had set up in the other room. Climbing up the little step stool in front of it, she worked the latch of the crib with her little hands and lowered the side, “I mean, diapers like what you’re wearing didn’t exist when I was alive and I’m not super interested in a giant wad of fabric under my clothes.” she answered as she waited for me to climb into the crib and lay down. “Then why bother with the snap crotch overalls and the overall toddler aesthetic?” I asked, watching her climb in and pull the side of the crib up before she snuggled up next to me. She kissed my forehead, “Because I was a cute ass baby and sadly I’m stuck being cute for the rest of eternity, but I can’t use a diaper anyway, so why not just skip it?” she asked. I giggled, “You are super cute.” I agreed, hugging her tightly like she was my own living, breathing stuffed animal. “You’re pretty cute yourself.” she said, “A little silly looking given your adult proportions, but I’d still pinch your cheeks and fawn over you.” she added. I pulled my pacifier out of my mouth and kissed her forehead, “I love you, Lucy.” I said, “I wish you were my sister instead of Mira.” I added before slipping my pacifier back in and closing my eyes. She sighed softly, “I love you too, baby sister.” she cooed in a soft whisper. ********* Mira watched the pair cuddling in the crib for a moment on her computer, the camera in the stuffed bear atop the changing table allowing her to see and hear everything happening in the nursery and made a disgusted groan as she turned the monitor off and sat back in her chair to contemplate the best course of action for dealing with her sister’s behavior. To Be Continued...