The Rise of the Grim Reaper: Sylvan Sasha Whitney

Prologue

Prologue:

IT WAS SNOWING OUTSIDE, flurries carried down from the heavens on a cold December wind. Snow blanketed the suburban neighborhood that stood outside my living room window. Mama and Otets often told me that if I had remembered Russia the winters here in America would pale in comparison.

"Sylvan, honey, when did you say your friends would be here by?" My mama asked, her light soft voice carried from within the kitchen into our dining room where I was setting the table.

I turned away from the window at her call, glancing towards the kitchen despite being unable to see it from here. Our home, small as it was, was our own slice of heaven. Only a single story with two rooms, and yet my parents treated it like their castle. Mama loved hosting large gatherings, just like the Christmas dinner she's hosting tonight.

"Umm, they said that they would be here sometime around six thirty so that we would have plenty of time to play." The cold laugh that had erupted out of Leo's mouth as he said those words sent a cold shiver through me as though something bad was in store, but, I just ignored the feeling.

"Play? Why honey, you children are already fifteen! Almost adults, hearing you speaking of playing with your friends sure does tickle me silly." Mama said, laughter and a smile reaching me through her voice.

As I walked into the small gray kitchen I looked at my mama. She looked not a day over thirty with her lightly tanned skin and chocolate brown eyes, she was tall for a woman but still shorter than most men. I had inherited all my traits from my mama, looking like her identical twin only years younger. My otets was a short man with black hair and warm blue eyes, creamy skin that screamed for sunlight. My mama and otets were expecting another child soon, a boy the doctor said, Ruslan-Slava was to be his name.

They could never decide on what to name him; my mama wanted to name him Slava meaning person of fame while my otets wanted to name him Ruslan meaning lion man. In our native tongue of Russian my parents would ceaselessly bicker, their Russian stubbornness rearing its head. My mama wanted my little brother to become charismatic and to get along well with others. Meanwhile my otets wanted my little brother to be a strong and proud man that would stand up for his family. Both names were beautiful in their own ways and I loved both of them, so I offered a solution. He would have two first names, hyphenated so that both of my parents could call him what they wish.

My mama was nearing her ninth month of pregnancy and both Otets and I were anxious for our soon to be new family member. With her tummy round she walked around our home as if she weren't pregnant at all, not letting Otets or I dote on her or be overly protective. She would often softly sing Russian songs in a tone of nostalgia and slight sadness, but never saying she regretted moving to the States with my otets when I was young.

Shaking off the memories I glanced at my mama as she waddled over to my otets as he entered the kitchen, each sharing a brief kiss of greeting. Otets helped her finish cooking dinner before we brought all of the food to the dinner table, around six forty in the evening. Breathing a sigh of relief I sat at the table waiting for my friends to arrive.

Not long after we had the table set our doorbell rang and mama went to stand to answer the door.

I grabbed her shoulder, lightly pushing her back into her chair. "Net. Ya poluchu dver', mat'." I said, telling my mama that I would get the door.

Mama huffed in annoyance yet still let me push her lightly back into her seat. She was a woman of strong views and wills, she wasn't used to being handled like fine china. But she did love how Otets and I cared enough to dote, even though we both knew she would be fine without it.