收割者的工作到底是福是祸？从下班回来后，这个问题就一直萦绕在我的脑海里。

晚上七点左右，马克和另一个儿时好友怀特打来电话说他们会过来。挂断电话后，我冒险去超市买了一箱啤酒和一些食物。我刚回到家，就发现他们已经在等我了。

我们从幼儿园时代起就形影不离，友谊长达二十多年。虽然我们平时很少联系，但只要我们其中一人有需要，另外两人总会毫不犹豫地伸出援手。就像我父亲最近的葬礼一样，所有细节都是他们两人安排的，之后的日子里，他们经常来找我，担心孤独会让我想太多。

我们倒上饮料，享用简单的餐点，并开始交谈——首先谈论时事，然后谈论我们的童年，最后甚至谈论汽车——直到，出乎意料的是，有人提到了晚上开车时遇到鬼的离奇故事。

这时，我脑海里又浮现出今天下午那个小女孩凄惨的哭声。

“说实话，你们两个相信鬼魂真的存在吗？”我问道。

马克递给我一支烟，自己也点了一支。“当然——我觉得没理由不抽，”他开玩笑地摇着烟盒回答道。

怀特只是轻轻耸耸肩。

马克哈哈大笑，调侃道：“怀特，你最棒了，从来不抽烟，不像我们！” 

我继续说：“我以前也怀疑鬼的存在。我不能说鬼不存在，但我从来没想过有一天我会真的遇到鬼。”

怀特皱起眉头，直起身子。“萨姆，你这话到底是什么意思？”

“请允许我直言不讳，”我说，“假设真的存在一个人——一个死神——护送迷失的灵魂到地狱。你会说他的工作是善的还是恶的？”

这时，马克的话语开始变得含糊不清。“当然，这是一种祝福，”他说道。“帮助那些游魂迅速抵达冥界，让他们免于无尽的漫无目的的漂泊——这难道不是一种高尚的行为吗？”

“当然，这是有益的——但情况各不相同。如果灵魂属于一个仁慈的灵魂，这是一种仁慈；但如果它是一个复仇的幽灵，其怨恨尚未得到报应，那么加速它的通过可能并不受欢迎，”怀特评论道。

我点点头。“确实，如果一个恶棍死了，把他带走也没什么，但对于一个有德行的灵魂来说，我的心不允许这样做。”

马克抓住我的胳膊，笑着说：“你不愿意有什么用？听起来你已经习惯了这份工作！” 

我淡淡一笑，很快我们的谈话就转到了其他话题上。

没过多久，那箱啤酒就快喝完了。我看了看表，发现已经过了十一点半。马克站起来，向我挥手道别，“山姆，时间不早了。今天就到此为止吧——明天我们还要工作，我得走了。” 

White also nodded, and I helped both of them into an Uber, ensuring they were dropped off at their respective homes, thankfully not too far away. After handing over the fare and exchanging a few parting words with White about looking after Mark, I watched the taxi disappear into the night.

Stepping outside, I faintly heard the plaintive cry of a child. At first, I assumed I had misheard—after all, it was nearly midnight in the dead of winter; who would be crying at such an hour? Standing by the flowerbed before my house, I listened intently and, indeed, discerned the sorrowful cry of a small child. Summoning my courage, I called softly, “Who is there? Who is crying?” 

To my astonishment, a voice answered, “It is me.”

Rubbing my eyes, I beheld a shadowy figure emerging from the flowerbed. It was a vaguely defined, translucent silhouette, seemingly that of a child, indistinct in the dim light.

“Wh - who are you? What are you doing here?” I stuttered, my words faltering—perhaps from the lingering effects of drink or sheer terror.

“Sir, will you please help me?” the voice pleaded. Leaning closer, I saw it was indeed a little boy, no older than ten, clad in summer clothes despite the bitter cold; his garments were soiled, as were his face and hands.

“And who might you be?” I asked.

“I have lingered here for over a year, and no one has ever seen me. Uncle, will you help me?” he implored.

“But it is so cold outside—aren’t you freezing in such scant attire?”

The boy shook his head. “I feel no cold. Ever since I died, I have lost the ability to sense warmth or chill.”

Died? In that moment, my suspicions were confirmed.

At that wintry midnight, I found myself conversing with a ghost beneath my doorstep—a scene that still sends shivers down my spine. 

“Perhaps you should come with me—follow me home?” I offered, almost immediately regretting the words as they left my lips.

He nodded, and with a sense of resigned duty, I escorted him to my house. Once inside, I switched on every light, and he drifted in silently and halted before the television, or rather, seemed to hover in front of it, unmoving.

I walked slowly past him and took a seat on the sofa opposite. “Please, sit down and speak,” I urged.

He complied; the small chair which Mark had occupied earlier creaked and slid behind him before he settled down. My heart raced—as if I were witnessing a scene from some surreal film. Possessing such spectral power, it appeared I had unwittingly invited further misfortune.

For over ten minutes we sat in heavy silence. Glancing at the clock, I realized it was already one o’clock in the morning. How long would this eerie encounter endure?

At last, I ventured, “Kid, what is your name?”

“I do not remember,” he replied softly. “Since my death, so many memories have faded.”

How pitiable his plight.

“Then, what did you mean when you asked for my help? How might I be of service?”

He raised his head slightly, and only then did I notice his face was streaked with blood, and one of his eyes protruded grotesquely—a void of black, devoid of an iris. Though I had long suspected he was a ghost and steeled myself for such a revelation, his appearance nearly made me gasp.

“Sir, I know you are a reaper,” he whispered, “and I beg you—help me leave this place.”

“How do you… how do you know I am a reaper?” I stammered, my speech growing increasingly unsteady.

“Other ghosts have told me that ordinary mortals emit a white glow, angels a golden radiance, spirits a green shimmer, and reapers a red aura.”

I examined myself, yet saw no such red glow.

He smiled faintly. “That light is imperceptible to you.”

“Very well,” I conceded. “Indeed, I am a reaper, though I have only recently taken up this duty and know little of its intricacies. I am at a loss as to how I might assist you.”

He recounted his tragic tale: “Last year, along the road by your house, I was struck by a drunk driver in the dead of night. The man did not report the accident; instead, he removed my body, placed it in his car, and later abandoned it by the river. For over a year I have wandered these parts in search of the man responsible. Yet in that time, my form has grown ever more translucent, and the memories of my former life are slowly fading. The other ghosts say it is because my body was cremated—rendered incomplete—and so I cannot be reborn; my spirit fades more each day until it will vanish entirely. Unless someone helps restore my body, I shall remain here, doomed to disappear gradually.”

I listened with scant attention, barely catching enough to understand that he sought my aid in reassembling his remains. I couldn’t help but wonder—why, after his death, had no reaper like myself come for him? Do even we sometimes shirk our duties?

After much further inquiry, I learned that in the fatal accident his left eye was blown away. When the driver removed his body, that eye was left behind. Later, his family reported the incident and recovered his remains, yet the missing eye was never found. Thus, the reapers could not escort him to the underworld, for they require a complete body. And so he has wandered these parts ever since.

“I understand,” I murmured, “but how might I possibly help you retrieve your left eye?” I had only recently assumed the role of a reaper and was utterly unversed in such matters.

He pointed; following his gesture, I saw a small box—containing the ring my dad had bequeathed me. I retrieved it. “Is this what you mean?”

He nodded. “Indeed. The other ghosts say that if you hold this ring before your eyes and peer through its tiny aperture, you can locate my missing eye.”

I examined the ring—it indeed possessed a small hole.

既然如此，我决定帮帮他，毕竟这个可怜的孩子实在是太可怜了。小男孩领着我往南走了一会儿，来到一家便利店门口。他指着路中间说：“我被击中了，我的眼睛一定在附近，虽然我找了好久都没找到。”

按照他的指示，我把戒指举到面前，用右眼透过戒指的小开口往下看。一瞬间，熟悉的世界变了样——曾经矗立着房屋、树木和道路的地方，现在只剩下一片荒芜的土地，上面点缀着漫无目的地飘荡着的虚无缥缈的身影。

“嘿，孩子，”我指着前方喊道，“那些漂浮的东西都是鬼吗？”

他朝我指的方向看了一眼，回答道：“是的——他们是鬼魂。如果他们想被人看见，他们会向死神和凡人显露自己；否则，你只能通过这个洞口来感知他们。”

就在这时，几只飘忽的幽灵聚集在我周围，好奇地观察着我。一个厚颜无耻的幽灵飘到我身边，与我面对面；他苍白可怕的面容让我哑口无言。他看到我手上的戒指，惊恐地退缩，大喊道：“这是死神！”

随着他的喊叫，附近的鬼魂一瞬间全部散开了。

我镇定下来，继续透过小孔扫视周围，没有发现任何异常。

“我们怎样才能找到你的眼睛？”我询问道。

“我们幽灵确实会发出微弱的灰色光芒——非常微弱，只有最敏锐的眼睛才能辨别出来。我相信我失去的眼睛也会发出这样的光芒，先生。请再找一会儿。”

经过大约半小时的仔细观察，我发现了一个浅坑，坑里散发着微弱的光芒。取下戒指后，我发现这是一口污水井。我从附近拿了一根木棍，撬开盖子，再次透过戒指的缝隙向外看——光芒现在变得更强烈了。我用木棍探了探井内，井里塞满了碎石和树叶，恶臭难闻。经过一番费力的搜寻，我取出了一个被污物包裹的小脏球。我又拿了一根树枝，再三努力，终于把那个东西拿出来了。小男孩看到后，冲上前去，用颤抖的手急切地擦去污垢，露出了一个小小的黑色球体，透过我的戒指看，它微微闪烁着光芒。

“真的，谢谢您，先生——非常感谢您！”小男孩惊喜地抱着“眼球”喊道。

“既然找到了，你的漫长等待就结束了——你终于可以跨越到地下世界了，”我说。

男孩小心翼翼地将眼球放入左眼的凹陷处；渐渐地，肿胀消退，面容恢复正常。

“先生，我还有一个请求！”

“我还能为您做些什么？”我问道，很高兴看到微笑取代了先前的悲伤。

“你能带我去地狱吗？”他恳求道。

唉，我该怎么办？我从来没有被要求主动护送灵魂；我只是响应召唤而已。现在，被要求引导他去地下世界——我不知所措。我解释说，作为一个初出茅庐的死神，我对如何完成这样的任务知之甚少。男孩说他可以找一个可能知道该怎么做的鬼魂，只要我同意不拘留那个鬼魂。我欣然同意了——首先，我不想抓任何人，其次，我不知道该怎么做。

男孩让我在路边的长凳上等着，他自己去找鬼。我独自一人坐在空荡荡的街道上，时间已经过了凌晨一点——快两点了。虽然我以前也遇到过鬼，但夜晚的孤独让我感到一种怪异的不安。

过了一会儿，小男孩回来了。“来吧——我向收割者保证，他不会抓住你，所以不要害怕！”

他话音刚落，一个穿着奇怪衣服的鬼魂就出现在他身边。

那个鬼魂向我点点头，说道：“先生，晚上好。我叫威廉姆斯。”

他的口音很奇怪。“你是哪里人？”我问道。

“我1901年出生于费城，1927年，我和家人到纽约做生意，被一帮匪徒抢劫，全部遇害。我的家人被死神带走，而我被匪徒肢解，完整的遗体从未被找到。因此，我在这一带流浪了几十年。”

他于1927年去世——如今，2021年，他已经去世94年了。

“我明白，”我说，“难怪你的举止与活人如此不同。”

“这个小男孩的遗体——我最近才帮忙修复。他希望被护送到地下世界，说实话，我也是新手，不知道该怎么做。他说你可能知道——你能教我吗？” 

威廉斯听后欣然同意。原来，我只需要用戒指在手掌上画一个十字，然后把手掌按在小男孩的额头上，就能俘获他的灵魂；再用戒指在空中画一个圆圈，通往冥界的大门就会打开。

按照威廉姆斯的指示，我在手掌上刻了一个十字架，成功收集了男孩的灵魂。当威廉姆斯询问我是否需要进一步的帮助时，我回答说：“不用了，谢谢。”说完，他简短地道别，然后嗖地消失了。

然后我护送小男孩来到冥界的门口；看着他加入游行队伍，我长长地叹了一口气。在作为收割者的六天里，我已经引导三个灵魂到达了他们的最终安息之地——终于完成了一件好事。愿这个小男孩升入天堂。