You Won’t Believe Me, But I Met ‘Death’ Two Weeks Ago

Be careful what you wish for, especially when the Grim Reaper is around.

Flickr / Mai
Flickr / Mai

My brother has been dead for a year now. The toll his death has taken on me is immeasurable. I am not even the same person I was before he passed.

It was only a month before I graduated high school. What kind of 13-year-old contemplates suicide? Well, I’m not one to talk…I’ve been in that position and I know how tempting it is, but I couldn’t go through with it.


No warning signs, no note, I am supposed to live my whole life not knowing exactly why my brother died. Around a month ago, I couldn’t take it anymore. I spent many nights sitting in the tub shaking a bottle of pills thinking to myself, “Why not?” But after seeing what it did to my mother, I couldn’t.

But I grew angrier and angrier. I DESERVE to have my brother back right? So even though I’m not a spiritual man, I started to look for ways to get him back. I didn’t even care if the idea was so far-fetched that it would even seem cheesy in a movie! I needed to see him.

After a week-and-a-half of searching, I found an old “spell book” from the Middle Ages. One of the spells was supposed to give you a chance to speak with Death for 10 minutes. Not a grim reaper, but a manifestation of death. Not even the disturbing requirements would stop me:

  • A recently deceased’s hand
  • A pint of deer blood
  • A cat’s tongue.

After breaking into a funeral home at 2 in the morning, and having to knock out the director, I managed to get the hand.

The deer’s blood was easier, I know a few hunters and through enough bribing, they got me the pint.

The most heartbreaking was the last one. After a trip to the local shelter I got my last ingredient. I found it hard to do, but I kept telling myself that it was all for my brother.


After I had all of the ingredients, I started the “ceremony.” I had to make a circle with the blood, use measurements so I could put the hand directly in the middle of the circle, and put the tongue in the hand. To finish it off, I had to set the tongue and hand on fire. I did this all out on my concrete patio. We have a huge fence and my parents were on vacation, so it was easy to get through.

I waited a couple minutes dealing with the horrible smell, but nothing happened. I started to laugh at myself over how stupid I was thinking that it would’ve work. I stepped towards the circle, intent on putting the fire out, but as I reached it, I collapsed.

As I hit the ground, I felt this searing pain in my head, so I shut my eyes. But that’s when I started seeing things. I saw visions of people dying.

The first one was an older man on a boat by himself. He was choking on something. As I watched the man collapse, I felt like my throat was closing up.

That’s when the vision changed. I saw a woman walking around a corner, but on the other side was a masked man with a knife. He plunged the knife into the side of her neck. That’s when it felt like 1,000 bees were stinging my neck. Blood spurted from the woman as she clutched at the wound. The man grabbed her purse and ran. Shit, I was feeling each death…

I was next plunged underwater, seeing a diver flailing around, clutching at his air tube. I could feel the pressure crushing me. Each time I tried to scream, but nothing came out.

The next was the worst. I watched the inside of a casket. A woman was flailing around and screaming for help. She had been buried alive. It felt like the whole world was closing in on me.

Then…I saw my brother. He was walking away from my gun cabinet and towards his room. As he opened his door, I finally screamed.


I opened my eyes. Everything was fine. I was laying on the ground staring up at the sky. I sat up only to hear my sliding glass door open. I looked up and saw a man who looked about 40. He was wearing running gear! I debated on yelling for help, but he said:

“You called me right?”

I picked myself up from the ground.

“What are you?” I asked.

“Sorry,” the man said. “It’s the closest person I could mimic.”


I sat in the recliner in my living room and he sat in a rocking chair in front of me.

“What was that out there?”

“Your personal price,” he said. “You have to know the feeling of death to speak to the man himself.” He was very soft spoken.

I sat up assertively. “I want him back,” I said.

“Who? Be more specific so I can help you.”

“My brother.”

He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes, thinking. “Oh yes, May 6th, suicide, 13-years-old. Why?”

I was dumbfounded. Pissed actually.

“What the hell do you mean why? He’s my brother. BRING HIM BACK!”

He stood up quickly. The guy he was mimicking was just about an inch shorter than me.

“Hit me,” he said.

I stepped back in fear. “But if I touch you…”

“No. You won’t die. Don’t believe everything you hear. Do it.”

I stood there for a second debating on what to do. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, I hauled off and hit him in the jaw. He stumbled back a bit.

“BRING HIM BACK!” I shouted. My adrenaline was pumping like crazy.

He got right back into my face. “WHY!?”

I hit him again. “YOU KNOW WHY!”

He grabbed me by the collar of my jacket. He pulled me in and said, “I’m going to allow myself to bleed, get some real satisfaction from it. But explain why you want your brother back.”

So that’s when I stepped back and just started throwing punches left and right. He didn’t fight back at all. I slammed him to the ground, grabbed him by the throat, and kept hitting him.

“BECAUSE HE WAS MY BROTHER! HE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE UNCLE TO MY CHILDREN! HE WAS MY BEST FRIEND! I NEED HIM HERE BECAUSE I CAN’T DO THIS WITHOUT HIM! JUST GIVE ME MY BROTHER BACK!” My screams became mixed with sobs. I was finally too tired to keep going and sat down next to him.

He turned to me on the ground. His face was a bloody mess.

“I’ll give him back to you,” he said.


We both got back to our feet.

“Of course, but I need you to see something first.”

He reached for my head, but I ducked.

“You won’t die I swear, Jesus,” he said, chuckling.

As he put his hand on my head, the visions started back up again.

They started with quick flashes of famous serial killers in the process of killing their victims. But I didn’t feel any pain this time. Dahmer, Bundy, Gacy, Xinhai, all horrifically destroying their victims. Then monstrous leaders like Saddam, Mariam, and Kim Il Sung standing in front of crowds of people. Then, the visions switched to random people committing horrible murders and rapes. They went on for so long that I started to feel sick. So Death moved his hand off my head.

“What the hell was that?” I asked him.

He sat back down in the rocking chair and began to rock.

“A few of the people that will be coming back with your brother.”

I sat back down.

“Wait, why?”

He began to talk in a very comforting voice.

“If I bring your brother back, then every single person that died over the past 30 years has to come back. Of course that means some people will be reunited with their beloved family members, but the monsters that roamed this earth will be coming back too. Perhaps Xinhai can get his kill count past 300. Maybe Saddam will rekindle his empire and cause a million more deaths! But then again, maybe the AIDS researchers that died in the plane crash over Ukraine will come back and cure AIDS! But are you willing to take the chance with all the animals that were rightfully put down?”

My heart sank into my stomach. I didn’t know what to do.

“But can’t you…”

“No exceptions. I’m sorry.”

Tears began to well up in my eyes.

He looked at my cable box, “You have a minute left. I’m willing to bring your brother back. Your choice.”

I finally spat the words out, “No. Just leave, please,” I said angrily.

Death stood up and put his hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry Dominick.” And just like that, he was gone.

That was about two weeks ago. I had to go to the hospital for my knuckles. It’s funny, I still see that runner every day. I’ve been going to my brother’s grave every day. I know I can’t have him back, but for now, his memory is all I need. I just worry that if Death gave that ultimatum to the wrong person, our world could change for the absolute worst and none of us could do anything about it. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

About the author

Dominick Reppi