The Creation

Part One

Welcome to the world of the Grim Reapers. Welcome to the day of my discovery.

It's peaceful. Grim Reapers are getting to work, checking out Cenematic Records, or chatting with eachother. All of the sudden, a spark appears at the center of the room.

Moderators are born the same as angels and demons, just in a different place. Instead of heaven or hell, they are born in the world of Grim Reapers. Together.

The spark turns to a ball of fire and sparks. Everyone stares at it as it forms into two young girls. One of which, is me. A female Reaper, one with red hair and green eyes, runs to observe them. To check if they are okay.

The girls are holding hands. Their eyes open to see the Reapers. They stand in synchrony. The angelic, also the smaller one, grabs onto her sister, who, as a good sister should, creates a forcefield.

A forcefield? Yeah. A forcefield. Grim Reapers are somewhat dangerous. They kind of kill people for a living.

A few hours later, the forcefield disappears. What's left are the girls, side by side, hand in hand. The dark one opens her eyes and speaks in a voice that isn't hers.

"We are moderators. Do not move, or we will kill you."

The light one's eyes flutter open.

"Bring to us, a leader." Says a softer voice.

Neither of their mouths open while the voices speak. Reapers run away, wether out of fear, or, hopefully, to get the president.

You know who was running out of fear, because immediately, they burst into flames.

Ah, the work of a demonic moderator. How evil.
No. Not evil. Necessary. Do not question my actions. You will end the same way those selfish Reapers did.

Eventually, a dignified woman walks into the room and up to the girls, who are floating about ten feet in the air. The girls look at eachother.

"You wanted to see me?" Says the woman.

"Yes. We did." Their voices say, eerily in sync. "We wish to ask a favour." Their eyes burn, getting used to the world.

"And what is that?" The woman replies, shivering.

"I wish for you to shoot an arrow between us. To connect us to the world. And I wish for a dress. One of a serving maid." Says the dark voice.

An arrow rips through the forcefield and disappears without a trace, forcing the angelic to fall to the ground. Dead. The Demonic floats down softly, and touches her sister's heart. The Angel falls into feathers, leaving an owl in her place. The Demon doesn't blink while she picks up the bird and breathes onto it, giving it her sister's life.

The birth of a chimæra.

She looks up at the woman and bellows, in her own voice, "I wish for the dress of a serving maid."