Grim Reaper Sad Novels & Stories

“I’m not.” “You are.” I shook my head again, tears streaming down my face. “Armando—he’s coming for me—he’ll find me—he’ll—” Reaper’s expression didn’t change. “He’ll try.” My breath broke. “But he won’t reach you.” I sobbed, choking on air. “Please—please don’t hurt him—please—” Reaper’s eyes softened. “I don’t want to hurt him.” I froze. He leaned closer. “I want to break him.”

He looked at the baby, then looked at Justin, then looked back at me, his eyes instantly welling up all over again. "Well, I'll be damned," Gunner whispered, a massive, brilliant smile breaking through his tears. "We got a new Reaper."

It’s my fault. My eyes then darted to the young, half-angel girl still lightly shaking, even though she was safely cradled in her brother’s embrace, feeling a dark pit settling deep within my chest as those tears kept only flowing, making me feel even more determined to end it all, for once. End the pain, the torment. Stop the chaos. With one last sorrow-filled glance, I then turned back towards the First Reaper, with the back of my hand wiping the wetness off my cheeks before taking a bold step closer, and with a firm tone I finally told him,

“Avery Delan.” “The name does not matter. The meaning does.” “What meaning?” The being tilted its head, and for a moment it looked almost human — and unbearably sad. “The meaning of death forgotten.” Behind Veyra, the Choir began to hum again, their tone lower, mournful. The being extended a hand — not threatening, but beckoning. “Follow the current, and you will see. But understand, Reaper…” The air around it trembled, and for a split second, Veyra saw the faces of every reaper who had ever served under her, dissolving into light.

They came with their grief, their confusion, their memories returning in painful, overwhelming waves. A man who had been a Reaper stood before her, his mirrored helmet gone, revealing a young, scarred face. He didn’t speak. He just trembled, tears cutting clean paths through the grime on his cheeks. The memories of what he had done, what he had been, were crashing down on him.

It was its face! I heard screams all around me as the other Reapers brought their blades down, then up, then down again, stabbing Mother, Father, and Gladys over and over. Gladys’s blood felt warm as it splashed against me, soaking my face and dress and hair. She reached for me from across the table, terror in her eyes, until whatever life they’d once held simply disappeared. Her gaze became empty, and her body ceased to move, save for the shudder it gave each time the Reaper stabbed it. “Gladys?” I tried to say, but I choked on her name. Somehow, all the air had left my lungs. “Mother?”

Alice yelled back to his hearing and he snorted. "Oh, sorry dear, but it's the truth. With just a tiny bomb, they are as dead as chickens!" Alice shook her head in denial and blinks rapidly. "Greg is dead? Greg...is dead...no... that can't be true" she mumbles in despair and sat up while she grimaces. "Dark Blood, huh?!" she yells back to his hearing and he stopped firing.

Not only she can’t use her healing ability in this world yet her missions requires inevitable pain! “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll heal right after the midnight strikes.” Garfield remarked, “That’s why don’t die by that time. Wounds can be healed but not a broken and scattered soul.” That’s another thing K Whatever learned from him. A reaper may not be wounded by mortal’s pain but it can be wounded by other reapers or with other spirits lingering in the world. They can feel pain but not easily die.

They thought they were recording Graham's most glorious moment, but instead the phones captured his utter defeat. Cain's deep voice boomed, "That's what you get for smearing my faction and trying to replace me, Graham!" His voice crushed Graham's soul. Alistair turned his eyes to Graham, and the old man went down on his knees out of pure terror. "Please, please, spare us, Mr. Solomon! We're sorry! I shouldn't have smeared your name! Please, I'm not worth your time! Let me go!" Graham slapped himself as hard as he could while he pleaded for his life.

Now he was coming, the thought made her shudder with trepidation. It was rare for there to be any problems with prerogatives, and even in the event that there were, reapers were equipped to deal with them on their own. In the rare cases that problems occurred; it was usually just some soul refusing to move on and deciding to haunt the living. Those cases were called Spector protocols and more often than not, the reapers would just let the soul become ghosts.