Touch

by Snyder, Jennifer

  “I’m fine.” I heard myself answer, but I hadn’t been aware I was speaking.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice sounding as though I were in a tunnel.

  Darkness feathered my vision and I gave in to the drowsiness that tugged at my mind.

  I wasn’t sure how much time had passed or what had forced my eyes to open. It could have been the horrific cawing of birds that filled my ears, or the petite brunette kneeling in front of me, staring. Her brown eyes twinkled in the hazy early morning light and I swore she was an angel.

  It was then, gazing into her chocolate-brown eyes, that the crippling pain of my injuries made itself known. Panic and fear ate away at my mind, bubbling up thoughts of death to the surface.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered before extending her delicate hand to touch my forehead with her fingertip.

  Images exploded behind my eyelids: Rocky, the dog I’d gotten for my sixth birthday, cuddled at the foot of my bed, the monster truck show dad took me to when I was nine, going to Six Flags with Travis and Wade when we were twelve, the first time I ever saw Celeste.

  When the images ceased, I opened my eyes and took in the sight of my mangled, swollen face and my deflated body before realizing how such a thing was possible. I glanced around, an explanation swimming to the surface of my mind. Two crows sat perched on a rock near the river’s edge, staring at me, unblinking. Two more joined them before I forced my eyes closed and hung my head as the reality of my situation began to sink in.

  “Am I…,” I whispered, unable to finish my sentence.

  “Yes, I’m afraid you’re dead,” she confirmed softly, sympathy dripping from her every word.

  “So, what happens now?” I asked, opening my eyes to look at her.

  “They should be here any moment and then you’ll know.”

  “They… who are they?” I questioned. “Am I supposed to be judged now or something?” My eyes traveled back to my slumped-over, lifeless body and I tried to add up all the good and bad I’d ever done to prepare.

  “Not really; it’s best if I let them do all the explaining.”

  I glanced at her then and realized she was pointing behind me. Four figures in hooded, long, black cloaks stood near the river’s edge.

  “Don’t be afraid, but don’t keep them waiting either,” the petite brunette insisted.

  “Okay,” I muttered. Shoving my hands deep in my pockets, I started toward them.

  “Damaris, Evelyn, Cassandra, William,” said the soft-spoken girl beside me, before bowing to the four figures.

  “Lindsey,” they replied in unison while lowering their hoods.

  “Jet Donavan Mathews,” the first, presumably Damrais, stated while gazing intensely into my eyes.

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “We are sorry to inform you,” Evelyn, the blonde with piercing blue eyes, said, “but, you were not intended to die on this day.”

  “Or in that way,” added Cassandra, a lady with black waves of hair and stunning green eyes. I picked up on the sympathetic tone of her voice and shifted my eyes away, preferring to gaze at the ground.

  “We leave you with a choice,” the chestnut-haired boy close to my own age stated.

  “A choice?” I asked, confused by more than just his words and unsure of how I felt about the glint in his grayish eyes. “Who are you people? What are you people?”

  “We are the Reaper’s Council and your choice is one of two things,” Damaris replied.

  “One, you crossover and become reborn immediately,” Evelyn said, lacking emotion.

  “Or two, you become a Reaper,” Cassandra finished.

  “Those are your options. Choose now and choose wisely, because once you do there is no turning back,” William said.

  I remained staring at all four of them, taking in each set of firm, cold eyes, wondering exactly how I should answer. After a moment, I shifted my gaze to Lindsey and her warm, concerned stare.

  “A Reaper… is that what you are?” I asked her.

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

  “What does a Reaper do?” I wondered, picturing a black-cloaked figure—similar to what the Council had looked like when I’d first seen them—carrying a scythe.

  “Release souls from the dying. You then are responsible for taking those who accept their death to the Spiritual Realm where they will reside until they are ready to crossover and be reborn,” Damaris answered.

  I thought of my options and came to the only decision that seemed reasonable.

  “I choose to become a Reaper, then,” I said, because crossing over seemed too final.

  All four of them nodded in unison, either in approval of my decision or to seal the deal, I couldn’t be sure. I watched, baffled, as each of them extended a hand, filling me with a hazy white light which seemed to pull me closer toward them. Once I was close enough to be touched by their fingertips, images from the last few moments swirled through my mind like an instant replay, until an old image lingered behind my eyes—the crows from in my front yard.

  When the Council members released me from their hypnotic touch, I opened my eyes and realized with a certainty a great change had taken place. I was no longer alive, nor was I dead, but merely some place in-between.

  I, Jet Donavan Mathews, had become a Reaper.

  Also By Jennifer Snyder:

  Marked (Marked Duology Book 1)

  Shattered Soul

  About The Author:

  Jennifer Snyder writes Young Adult Edgy Contemporary novels as well as Young Adult Paranormal Romance novels. She resides in the beautiful mountains of Western North Carolina with her husband and two children. Jennifer finds great joy in blank notebooks and a smooth writing pen.

  Feel free to visit her blog at http://jennifersnydersblog.blogspot.com