Don T Fear The Reaper Book Novels & Stories

I open the notebook. This is not a confession. Not a journal of fear. It is a story. A girl. A figure who comes for the dying. A presence the world fears but does not understand. The language is careful. Reverent. There is no cruelty here. No hunger for spectacle. The Reaper in her story is restrained. Bound by rules he did not choose. Lonely without being pitied. Powerful without indulgence. I read more slowly. The girl is not afraid of him. She notices his sadness before his power. She wonders who named him. Whether anyone ever did. She touches his hand and nothing breaks.

It's an odd combination of clothes, to say the least. As we approach the Arena, my heart begins to beat faster with each step I take. Just before we near the door, Kieran stops in his tracks and faces me. "Calm down, bunny; it's just a game. I'll be careful, I promise. I may look like a fool, but I'm not one. You're a human- I wouldn't treat you like a vampire woman." His hand rests on my cheek as Kieran tries to reassure me. Surely, some of his words calm me down, but it's only natural to fear the unknown, isn't it?

“That’s impossible! It can’t be!” Vincent screamed and pushed Janna out of the way. He ran madly after my receding figure, though I was already far ahead. Vincent sprinted forward desperately. With the estate’s security alarm going off, the security personnel in the dark jumped out to stop him. I approached the helipad where the chopper was running. The propellers whipped up a huge blast of air. Vincent raced toward me in anguish. Oblivious to the gravel hitting him, he dropped to his knees and stared intently at me.

I loved being awake before him so I could admire the ethereal aura he exuded. I can't believe I used to be so afraid of him. But, considering how dangerous he is, I guess I can’t blame myself. My thoughts were a little out of sorts. Being with him goes against everything I was ever taught. But I am just like him… I’m a Reaver too. The thought sent chills down my spine. How could I be the very thing I was taught to fear? And why didn’t my mother tell me? She had to know, right? I don’t understand why she would have kept it from me.