Reapers Academy {Book One}

Prelude: Dear Diary

Dear Diary,

I have no idea why I am writing in this thing. I don't even think this is really my diary. I mean I was told to write in it... Well anyways, today I died... at least I think it was today. Yes you heard that right, I died.  

I don't know if you realize this but when you die, no matter who you are or what you have done... they... the Council in Limbo gives you a choice. They tell you that you can wait to be punished or sent on to Heaven's gates or Hell’s inferno until after your funeral. You can choose if you want to see the final goodbyes of your friends and family, if that is what you wish to do. At first, I didn't want to go.

I was a bitch... or am a bitch. Who really would have wanted to go to my funeral? Who really would show up? No one really cared for me in life, so why would they care for me now that I was dead? I made sure that no one cared for me... I didn't want anyone to get close to me. There are reasons unknown to everyone that I really won't delve into right now. I sat there on the floor in the Council's waiting room, pondering the decision. Sitting there in that white room, with the ticking of the clock, thinking as every tick ticked. I then closed my eyes and imagined my mother. A sadness had ripped through my body.

I decided that I would go for my mother. I wanted to make sure she was okay. The Council bad slipped me down by the means of whatever magic powers or whatever they had. The first thing I noticed was the gleaming casket which I rested in. It was a mahogany color, and it gleamed under the lowlights of the funeral home. My eyes then landed upon my face, my cold, pale face. A sob wrenched through my dead form. It was bittersweet seeing my own body lying there lifelessly. A beautiful intricate white dress adorned my body. It was a dress I would have never worn if I had been alive. My mother must have picked it out for me.

Tears were coming out in torrents now. The fact that I looked so beautiful lying there in my casket... that I was now dead... It was a bit much for me. Something in the air made me turn around, and my jaw practically dropped to the floor. There were people there, but not a few people. There were a ton of them- at least a hundred. As I glanced over them, I noticed that most were the boys and girls I had went to highschool with, and some from the College I was attending. These people weren't friends or family, they were people who hated me. People whom I had hated too.

The priest walked up to the steps, and to the podium where my open mahogany casket was resting nearby. He cleared his throat and everyone looked up at him as he read verses that my mother must have picked out to be vocalized at my funeral. His voice was so sad , and everything he said was so... touching. Even I couldn't keep my eyes dry, and I was dead. The priest then asked if anyone wanted to come up and share stories about me, things they liked. I expected for it to stay quiet. I was in shock when my peers started to get up one by one, and shared their stories about me. These were the people who had tormented me daily. They had never said a nice thing to say about me when I was alive, but now they had nothing but kind words for me now that I was dead. They had called me names, and incited me into anger, but now they were standing up talking about me like we’d been best friends. Too bad every day I had been alive they had made me want to kill myself.

I was so angry. I felt pure anger. I was boiling, steaming mad. I couldn't believe that these fakers were up there pretending to like me and be my friends. What was wrong with people that they had to fake being a dead person's friend to get attention? My anger was beginning to get really high, when suddenly it was doused with water. My eyes began glittering with tears as an elder lady in black stepped forward towards the podium. My eyes were trained on her as she started to speak. My mother, my beautiful mother... the woman who had given birth to me, who had put up with me through all the good and the bad, mood swings, anger, my joy... every single thing in my life, she had been there for me.

She was gorgeous even now... with the sadness in her eyes, tears running down her cheeks caused black make-up to run. She was like an angel in black... She started to talk about my childhood and how I had been a reckless child. More than once she had been afraid that I’d kill myself with reckless antics. She laughed and continued on about the silly stuff I achieved and did as a teenager... and then she started to speak about one memory, my favorite one. How before I had been diagnosed with bipolar... before we knew what was wrong. She would hug me and hold me tight. She would lay down on my bed and sing. Her voice was so calming and it would soothe away the pain and anger, everything until it was just ud. She always knew how to help me even when I didn't know how to help myself.

How was I supposed to do that now? How was I to help myself? I was dead, and I was watching all this without knowing what was going to happen to my soul. My mother continued on speaking about how I was taken from her too soon, and how she wished she could have more time with me. That I would always be her little girl. I wish I could have reached out and touched my mother, taken her hand and held it, or hugged her. Anything to give her some peace of mind that I was okay. That I was there for her and loved her. She didn't deserve to lose her only child... she didn't deserve to lose me...

I love you Mommy, I am alright.

I just feel that you need to know... that it’s not the end but it's just the beginning for me.

~Me