- K. A. Meng
- Mar 18
- 10 min read
I had the idea for a family of reapers and then I thought about how would they get around the world? The answer was portals.
Here is a sneak peak!
Chapter One
A transparent poltergeist floated across the meadow, and frost spread across the grass. She shifted and resumed her endless search, drawing closer to me at the top of the hill.
I held my breath so as not to alert her to my presence. My heart pounded so loud it sounded like thunder in my ears.
As she shifted closer, her life sprang into my head for a second, like I watched a movie with me in the starring role instead of her. Until him, she had lived simply. She and her lover had planned a secret wedding and met before he knocked her into a well. The slick stone walls hampered her grip as she struggled in the water.
Her lungs had burned for air, and an inequitable knowledge of her impending death filled her. She had called for his help, her throat growing too sore to continue until exhaustion overcame her, and in those last moments, she realized the truth. Now she searched endlessly for the man who had killed her, to harm him as he had harmed her.
I called my scythe from my soul, and it glowed as it appeared. I waited for her to spot me. When she changed directions again, I planted my right foot forward for better leverage on my weapon.
The poltergeist turned toward me, and its mouth popped open. Her jaw dropped lower as she screamed so loud it pierced my eardrums. Her 18th-century dress billowed around her ankles as she flew at me. She grew closer; her eyes were filled with rage.
The image of her lover filtered into my mind. She didn’t see me, only him as I struck, my blade slicing through her with ease. Tiny balls of white light erupted from her body before she faded, and the skin on my left hand glowed as my tattoo grew from releasing her from this realm.
“May you rest in peace, and may he burn in hell,” I told her. She’d probably spent hundreds of years wandering. If she had, my father wouldn’t be in this realm. Other poltergeists had taken him six years ago.
I marked off this location on my hand-drawn map and retreated through the newly formed portal. The glass-like purple shimmered in my wake. I swore it had been green when I entered, for the color reminded me of moss on the aged stones in a broken ring holding them in place. Had I imagined the change? What if I hadn’t? Were the other collapsed portals still functional?
My final alarm buzzed as I contemplated returning through the portal. I cursed and hesitated for a second. My mother would yell at me if I were late babysitting again. I doubted visiting the realm would advance my quest, and would only feed my curiosity. I never had enough time for the latter.
With a sigh, I headed toward the Head Institute, using the various portals. As I drew closer to the last, I released my scythe, forgetting I had it. No one knew about it except for my mother, Fay, and the Grim Reaper, who had given it to me after I called for help. If anyone discovered it, my mother would be livid. I doubted Fay even remembered because she was three at the time poltergeist kidnaped our dad. I suspected Death never cared. It had given me the weapon to release souls. Nothing else worked.
I checked my wrists for the conclusive proof I had become a reaper, and my tattoos had faded. The marks covered much of my upper body. I had earned each tattoo from releasing a soul.
After walking through the blue waterlike surface of the portal, I stepped into the courtyard of the insanely large Institute. Despite the appearance, the gateway didn’t drench me, unlike a few. The structure’s design, resembling a gothic mausoleum entrance, was appropriate. My family and everyone who lived here dealt with death or would when they turned eighteen.
My sister and her friends hung out near the entrance. “About time you arrived,” she told me.
I ignored her and hurried up the stone steps. Miles of dense forest surround the building, making it impossible to approach on foot. The stone Grim Reaper statues made the place unnatural, like they could steal the souls of passersby.
“If I had to watch the twerps, I would’ve killed you,” my sister called after me. She ran a hand through her boyfriend’s hair. He and her other friends lounged around each other. Most of them paired off, except for Levi and Cherry. He wasn’t as bad as the rest, so it was a shame they eventually would.
He walked the dog with his yo-yo.
I stopped and turned to my sister. “Have you gone out soul releasing?” I asked her.
Brooke shrugged. “We’re busy.” She’d probably spent most of the day making out with her boyfriend when not in school. Despite the daily death toll exceeding one hundred and fifty thousand, she remained preoccupied.
“Did you know every reaper is related?” I asked them.
Brooke dropped her hand away from Chaz White and blinked at me.
“Yeah, my research says we’re all cousins,” I answered.
“Distant?” Brooke asked. Her voice quivered.
I shook my head before heading inside. I refrained from laughing until I was in the grand entrance more. If I stopped their make out sessions for a day, I’d be happy.
“Everly Dawn Black, I’m glad you think being late for babysitting is so amusing,” my mother said. Her hands were on her waist, and she glared at me. She wore that expression earlier today and every day she saw me.
“What excuse do you have this time?” my mom’s husband, Jackass White, asked me. His real first name was Jack, but I preferred his nickname.
“I’m here now, so why does it matter?” I asked my mother. I did my best to ignore him.
“Don’t use that tone with me,” Jackass said. He shifted to stand in front of my mother.
“What tone?” I blinked at him, acting innocent.
“You know. If you were my daughter—” Jackass started, but I cut him off.
“Thankfully, I’m not. I have a father,” I reminded him.
“You had a father,” Jackass corrected me. He sneered at me.
“Still do,” I told him.
“Your father is dead,” Jackass said.
“Hun, we should go. The council is waiting for us.” My mother set her hand on her husband’s bulky shoulder before I retorted. Why had he stuck around? He led the Institute and ruled its board, overseeing reapers. Had he stayed to yell at me?
What a pathetic piece of shit, I thought. I wished my mother had moved on with someone else, anyone else, after poltergeists took my father. She could’ve waited, but I understand why she didn’t.
“Yes, we’re discussing increasing the age for new reapers,” Jackass said.
“Why would you? By law, we’re adults,” I pointed out. I would graduate the following week, and three days after graduation, I turned eighteen.
“You’re not an adult yet. Times have changed, and the smoking and drinking age is twenty-one. The age increase makes sense because some children are not completing their duties.” Jackass ran a hand through his greased-back black hair with gray streaks.
I turned on my heel and walked away, reading through his lines.
“Where are you going?” he called after me.
“To babysit, since I take my responsibilities seriously.” I tapped my watch over my head without turning around. “The council’s waiting for you. Shouldn’t you do the same?”
Jackass said something, but I rounded the corner, already unable to hear him. He would purposely raise the age limit because he didn’t want to lose his permanent babysitter—me. He mistakenly believed I’d stay after becoming an adult. He and my mother had no legal right to keep me here. I stayed only because my father believed school was important. My education lacked real-world preparation. Where was balancing a checkbook 101 or paying bills 100? The reaper training came next, yet my enthusiasm for those lessons diminished, since I hardly received any.
I wiped the scowl off my face and replaced it with a smile. “Who wants to play hide-and-no-seek?” I asked the twerps. I meant kids as I entered their playroom.
Tan and Can, my younger brothers, who were twins, ran up to me, jumping up and down and saying they did.
“Again? You never find us,” my half-sister, Dakota, said.
“That’s because you hide so well,” I lied. I glanced at all the other kids before I continued. “Ready? One. Two. Three.”
They scattered.
After I got to ten, I sat on the matted floor and removed my portal map. I needed to get the pathways I had searched sketched out before I forgot them. I wanted a video. Unfortunately, cameras malfunctioned in the realms. The pictures were grainy, much like images of ghosts in this dimension, the human world. I used EMI (electromagnetic interference) shielding tape to get my alarm to run on my phone.
I set my map into my backpack and marked off ‘love’ on the list of ingredients to my dad’s recipe for poltergeist bait. I had baked the treats with extra care and pretended affection. When I broke it, nothing happened. What had he meant? Someone had ripped the page from his journal, and I had used the lead from a pencil on the next page to reveal the impressions. Maybe I missed something.
“What you doing?” Dakota asked me.
Her sudden appearance scared me. To calm my racing heart, I hugged the journal tightly. “Why aren’t you hiding?” I asked her.
“Why you need you?”
“What?”
She pulled down the journal and pointed at the word ‘me’. “Why do you need you? What are you baking? A cake?” Her brown eyes sparkled, and she jumped up and down. Her pigtails swished as she moved. She was a smart five-year-old.
“I will later,” I answered her. An idea formed that I had never realized.
“Can we now?” she asked.
“Why don’t you hide?”
“I already won.” She smiled at me, revealing a missing tooth.
“Should I make a cake or cookies?”
At the mention of the sugary treats, heads popped out of every piece of playroom equipment ever sold, including slides, walkways, and plastic houses. Some climbed the rope ladder to hide in the spider-webbed rope maze attached to the ceiling.
Despite their possessions, all my mom gave me was a watch and a cell. I had missed a few voluntold babysitting, and she got me the two items, even though everyone else at fifteen had a phone and more. My father had bought me whatever I asked for without question.
Kids screamed for cake and cookies.
“I’ll make treats later if you stop screaming,” I told them.
They stopped, one after the other.
“Let’s play another game,” I said. I had nothing else to do but keep them entertained until supper. They weren’t bad, but their parents, who were on the council and acted like mini versions of Jackass, sucked. I planned on filling their children up with sugar before bedtime.
“Can you tell us how our families became reapers instead?” Tan asked.
“We’ve heard it a million times.” Can groaned. He lay on his belly, propping his head up with his arms, anyway. Even at twelve, he still liked my stories.
As the rest of the kids settled in, Dakota climbed into my lap.
I cleared my throat before saying, “When the population of the world boomed, Mr. Reaper needed help.”
“Wait, why do you call the Grim Reaper, Mr. Reaper?” Can asked.
“Like you, Cannor Black, the Grim Reaper also has a first and last name. Grim and Reaper.” I gestured with my hands to separate the two words.
The kids giggled.
“I’m Cannor White now,” he said.
“Yeah, you are.” I pushed away the annoyance building inside me. My mother tried to guilt me into being adopted by her husband, like the rest of my siblings. I refused to erase my father and told my sister that dating her crush with the same surname would make them inbreeders. She also denied the change because of me, much to our mom’s dismay. I planned to give my future children my surname to keep it alive. If the man refused, we wouldn’t be together.
I continued with my story. “Mr. Reaper couldn’t keep up with the souls needing to be taken to the gates of heaven or hell. So, it recruited our ancestors and gave them the power to reap souls.”
“Why though? Why did Mr. Reaper choose our families?” Can asked.
“We’re the best. My father says so,” Dakota answered. He would.
“Jack…Jack has his beliefs and I have mine.” I had to stop myself from saying his nickname in front of my sister. Dakota was even if we had different dads. She and our baby brother were the only good things from my mom’s relationship with him.
“What yours?” Dakota looked up at me.
“Mr. Reaper made us into reapers because our last names are colors.” I tapped her on the nose. Many children shared similar surnames, so I checked their records. Death lacked imagination.
“And me?” Sophia Smith asked.
“That’s because you used to be a Yellow.” I showed her the family trees I used to keep the names at the Institute straight. I had discovered we shared a unique quality when writing everyone down. Some didn’t have it now, like Sophia, but I traced back her family to the original color for my investigation into the kidnaping of my father.
Sophia scrunched up her nose in disgust.
“Surnames arose from the need to distinguish individuals sharing a first name. So, Yellow because of your ancestor’s yellow hair. Green because they lived next to a grassy area,” I pointed out.
“Mr. Reaper picked us because of our ancestor’s hair color?” Tan asked. His eyes widened.
“Pretty much.” I gave them more details, and they were genuinely interested. I never told them they could become reapers without the ceremony. They needed more training, and being an adult would lower their risk of death.
If you wonder what The Reaper Diaries Book 1: Everly's Quest is about:
Everly Black can’t tell anyone she’s a reaper. If she does, the Institute kids will die to become one. To protect her secret and keep them safe, Everly’s mother forces her to babysit.
Six years ago, Everly’s father went missing when poltergeists took him. As soon as she graduates, she’s going to find him. No one will stop her, not even Levi Silver, the hottest reaper she knows. He’ll either help her or get in her way.
Close to graduation, poltergeists trapped in the Grim Reaper's realms flee. Everly goes after them and sends them to the afterlife. But no one knows why it happened. If she stays to figure out why, she won’t find her father. If she leaves, humans and reapers will continue to die.
