Becoming a grim reaper was right up my alley. I enjoyed being dead. I helped souls crossover into either Heaven or Hell with my fellow reaper, Than. For two years, I enjoyed my life and then the killings started. Psychics were being murdered at haunted sites and souls disappearing.
Someone was tampering with the fabric of the universe, trying to draw something evil into this world.
To do that, the killer needed the souls of the psychics and the ghosts he could gather to open the doorway. I was charged with saving those souls and find out who the serial killer was. Yeah, being used as bait was definitely not my first choice, but who can kill a grim reaper?
I’m already dead. With Than’s help, I’ll stop the evil from penetrating this world so I can get back to my soul gathering.
I mean the dead stay dead, right?
Death is all around us. Death is with us. I can feel it.
The second piece remained tucked away for the very end.
“You don’t want to do this. I helped you. I told you this was the place. I brought you here. Now, you can let me go. I’ll never tell a soul. I swear.”
Her pitiful cries broke me from my reverie, and I remembered why I was truly here. My mission. The blade might have truly been perfection and a celestial gift shown to me by his hand, but I had a singular purpose for being at this location. The wind picked up and caressed my face, whispering of the night and the power to come with my sacrifice. She would bring my master closer to me. Maybe close enough for when he pierced the veil I could touch him. He expected death. The stronger the death, the closer he could come.
“Please let me go!”
One good backhand across her cheek shut her up. A gash opened up on her cheekbone and seeped a few drops of crimson. I had to be more careful. Any drop of blood spilled not in his name would jeopardize the sacrifice. Anger could not rule here. “That’s enough, bitch. No one is going to hear your screams. No one cares for them, either.”
She whimpered once more but didn’t dare raise her voice again. Her hands were bound behind her back so she could scratch at me. I’d learned the hard way. Her blond hair was littered with leaves and debris from our venture through the woods. Her fear filled blue gaze darted back and forth as she tried to look for a way to escape. Mud clung to her jeans. Her black shirt was torn, letting me catch a glimpse of a tattoo on her left shoulder. A crescent moon joined together with something else. The same shape as the sickle ready to cut through her flesh. The night’s energy and the landscape heightened the anticipation of the kill. The specters in the boneyard were drawn to her as moths were to a bonfire. Broken tombstones littered the ground. Some had sunken back into the dirt being reclaimed by the earth. Others had fused with trunks as trees as had grown up around the stones. Each headstone had a story to tell. The place was the forgotten burial yard for a bloody battle fought in the Civil War. Many were interred here in unmarked graves. Their bones might have gone to dust, but their souls remained.
I lifted the blade and tested its light weight in my grip. The metal glinted in the moonlight. All my senses were alive. I wound my free hand through her hair to hold her head steady. The heel of my hand rested against her clammy forehead. I wanted to see her reaction when I claimed her life for my master. Her eyes widened and I saw my face reflected in her eyes. My lips were turned up in a wicked grin. My eyes shown with anticipation. Stubble dotted my jaw but needing to shave did not stop me from doing what had to be done. Her fear was ripe. The sickle sang as it sliced through the air. I removed my hand from her brow before the blade separated her flesh. When the sickle hit her neck, it severed her head clean off. It flew a few feet before landing, rolling and then settling on the ground with her dead eyes staring up in the night. Blood spattered grass shone in the night. Spray hit my face, bathing me in the warm fount. Her body spasmed before flopping to the ground and twitching like an electrified butterfly. I watched her until she quieted down, and I admired my handiwork.
Above her body, an orange zigzag appeared in the dark night. The tendrils of her soul drifted from her body. Blue tentacles like electric arms emerged from the crack in the dimensions and stretched it even wider. They latched onto the threads of her soul and yanked them back. As the power of her soul was used up, I glimpsed the other side where my master dwelled. Whirls of reds and oranges swirled and exploding together like oil and water separating, and that gave me hope. Around the edges of the portal was an aurora of amethyst and twilight blue with the gold and silver dots of stars in the distance as the rift showed a portion of the universe. Rapture infused my very being. I dropped to my knees before the window into the other reality, dipped my hands into the cooling blood and raised them to the sky.
“Lord, I have done what you commanded. I am your servant for now and always.”
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