Reap My Heart

Chapter 2

I peered through the window of the Spring Hill retirement home, the old man inside slumped in his armchair, head tilted forwards and chin resting on his chest as he slept.

No, I'm not some weirdo that likes to peep on old people, I'm a Grim Reaper.

Unfortunately, as you can guess, I visit old folks home's quite often. Something that's also unfortunate is the fact I can't walk through walls like a ghost. But what is fortunate? The fact I can do this;

I raise my right arm to my side, the sleeve of my black cloak falling back slightly to reveal my skeleton hand. I whisper a few of the Greek words that were drilled into me during my training and a paper thin line of purple and black appeared at my boney fingertips. I wasn't really a walking skeleton, this was just a...side affect of the Reaper cloak, it helped to conceal the identity of the Reaper as the most common steriotype of the Grim Reaper was that he was a skeleton. It saved alot of time and questions; a soul is more likely to come with this than a teenage girl, believe it or not.

I probed my fingers into the hole, parting it with ease and rumaged around, feeling until I found...

Got it.

I grasped the cold metal handle and carefully slid it from the small portal, well I say portal when it's actually more of a rip in the fabric of the human world, but enough with specifics.

A metallic thud rang out around me as I set the tip of the metal handle to the ground. My black gleaming scythe stood beside me, from the base of the handle to the top of the blade measured 6 feet more or less. Myself standing at 5"2 (barely) the scythe obviously towered over me, but it was no problem to lift; another perk of the job.

I raised the scythe effortlessly and with one swift motion swung the scythe in an arc, slicing the air infront of me, literally. A ripple of dark swirling purple and black opened before me, strands of light creeping out from within. I took a large stride forwards and was engulfed by the shadowy chasm.

I blinked.

I was suddenly in the room of the old man I was observing through the window mere moments ago, the shadow ridden portal behind me closed silently.

Alright, time to get to work...

I retrieved the Black Book from the inside of my cloak and opened it to a random page; it didn't matter whether it was the first last or middle, the names will appear on any page I open and disappear once I've guided the soul to the Beyond.

Harold Davies 97

I lifted my gaze to the old man sleeping noiselessly in the chair, oblivious to the Reaper watching him. Harold Davies, aged 97. Fair play to him, he's made it to a ripe old age. I've collected souls much younger...some too young...

Dragging my thoughts away from the dark depressing corners of my mind I stepped forwards and stretched out my hand towards the man, carefully pressing my palm to his forehead, then drawing away after a few seconds. A beat passed before his slow, regular breathing stopped abruptly and he awoke with a start.

I hated this part.

He took in my appearance, black cloak, giant scythe, skeleton hands, a depthless blackness beneath the hood hiding my face. It took him all of two seconds before he cried out in absolute terror.

I merely raised a hand in protest, as if I were some close acquaintance asking for his silence and not the Grim Reaper come to take away his soul. Unsurprisingly he froze, staring up at me with wide milky eyes; you'd be surprised how compliant people are in this situation, where they've no idea what to do, it seems they jump at the chance to follow instructions however big or small, grasping for something solid other than the terror occupying their mind. I glanced down at the Black Book before preparing myself to speak.