Death's Daughter ON HOLD

Chapter One: The Beginning

Author Note: Hey there. This is my first story on Wattpad, so forgive me if I don't follow the correct 'procedure', if you will lol. I hope you enjoy the story, and no copywrite infringement intended on any copyrighted names/song lyrics/etc that may be present. :) Happy reading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They say that the Grim Reaper never dies; he’s an immortal being that has a list of people whose time has come. He never is able to move on himself. He’s lost in a purgatorial state, never quite alive but never able to die. He exists only to aid both sides of the universe, heaven and hell, bringing the evil to their torturous new home, and the worthy to their final resting place among angels.

What the lore doesn’t say is that Death can die. It is nearly impossible, but the Fates have decreed that no creature can be without a weakness. The Fates and Time are the true masters of death itself. This is so that they will always have protection from dying and cannot be overthrown. Because of this predicament, Death must always have a successor so that man may continue to move on to the afterlife. Without a successor, the world as we know it would fall into chaos… ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Silver!” Dahvie said to me, smirking as he snatched my book from my hands. Immediately, I pouted and glared at him.

“What? And give me back my book!” I whined, reaching for it. Of course, I was too short. Figures.

He smiled and handed the book back to me, and I clutched on to it for dear life.

“We need to get to class,” Dahvie continued.

I narrowed my blue eyes; he had interrupted me from reading for that?

“Yeah, I know. I do have a cell phone that- oh, I don’t know- has an alarm? Not to mention there’s this really cool invention called- guess what? A school bell!”

He just laughed at me, wrapped an arm around my waist and led me away from a tree in front of the school and into the gloomy looking building.

In my opinion, schools shouldn’t be allowed to be as creepy-looking as mine was. No one, not even the janitors, kept it up how they should have. Therefore, the school had cracks running down the walls from the last large earthquake. The school kitchen was still half charcoaled from when Greg Browning decided that he was going to set a newspaper over the open-flame on the stove. I swear, jocks leave half of their brains in their helmets.

As Dahvie and I waltzed into the hallway, Dahvie left to go find fis locker and his ‘girlfriend-of-the-week’. I think the girl’s name began with an ‘O’, but I’m not sure, I never can remember their names. Dahvie’s what the kids at my school call a ‘player’, and they’re completely right. He switches girlfriends weekly, or less than that. I mean, he’s sexy as hell and everyone knows it, but he’s not your typical player. You know, the one that everyone dates, falls for, and then he gets the pleasure of breaking their hearts? No, Dahvie isn’t like that. He’ll date a girl, but he never does anything that making-out, and I think maybe two out of the two-hundred plus girls he’s dated have said the ‘L’ word. They usually don’t fall for him, because everyone knows he doesn’t like to get too attached. Dahvie’s just something hot to have on your shoulder, and there are only two people in the world who he’d say the ‘L’ words to. One is myself, and the other is his baby brother Michael. Michael just turned three, and I’m Dahvie’s best friend.

We’ve known each other since we were about three, ad we’ve always had a very platonic relationship despite the fact that everyone seems to think we’re made for each other. We really aren’t, trust me. We would absolutely fail as anything more than friends, and we both know it.