This story is finished.
Ah, death. What a wonderous thing it is, yet most people fear it. I guess people just don't like what they don't know. I know I didn't like the idea of death when it was my turn to go.
I was 17 when I died, now I'm an immortal Grim Reaper. I take the souls of the living, and ferry them to wherever their destination may be, once their time has come. They either go to Heaven, or Hell, simple as that, but most, as I have seen, go to Hell.
It hasn't been that long since I died, nonetheless, I remember it all kind of vaguely, since it all happened so fast.
I was sitting in class, we were taking notes on some boring dead person. At some point mine had turned into doodles. I remember one of them had been really interesting, and I had been thinking I wanted to show it to my best friend, Leah. I think of her more as a sister, and we share everything. But, in the middle of that thought, one of the students bolted out of their chair, and started shooting a gun. Without thinking, I threw myself over Leah's body, shielding her from any bullets that would come her way. And as quickly as the firing started, it ended, with the gunman shooting himself in the head.
I looked down at my friend. "Leah, are you okay?" I asked.
Leah stared at me with a look of horror on her face. Then I realized that I was in immense pain.
"Oh god I was-" I was cut off, and fell over, my blood pooling around me.
Then all I saw was darkness.
I awoke in a hospital bed, and I sat up. There was everyone I knew, crying from the news the doctor had just told them.
"Guys, I'm right here!!! I'm Fine!" I said, getting up. I didn't notice that I was no longer in pain.
Then I felt a bony hand on my shoulder. I turned around to look into a bony face. I wasn't scared, though. The skeletal figure of Death was somehow comforting, emmitting a warmth that was rather welcoming.
Death pointed a spindly finger at the bed behind me, and I looked, and gasped.
"That's me....So I'm....dead?" I said, looking at my pale, lifeless body laying on the bed, while I was standing next to Death, as a spirit.
He raised his huge scythe, and ran it through me, as if I were mist. It kind of tickled. Death's eyeless sockets seemed to narrow at me.
"It seems you were not destined to die......Are you not Leah Righte?" Death asked in a voice that would make the dead turn twice in their grave.
"My name iz Zel Stanton..." I said.
Death grinned. "You now have the right to either become a Grim Reaper, or become a Lost Soul, and wander-or haunt- the world as you see fit."
And from there, you should know which path I chose.
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My Life as A Grim ReaperAction
Taking a bullet aimed at her friend cost Zel Stanton her life. She wasn't supposed to die, and so Death gave Zel a choice; she could carry on as a Lost Soul, only able to watch over, or haunt the living, communicate with other ghosts, or to become a...