The unknown has scared people for as long as time can recount. What does the future hold? Why are we here? Who created us? Where does that bump in the night come from? When will we die? How long do we have? So many unknowns in life to write a book, but the one unknown that scares people, mostly younger adolescents, the bump in the night. What is it? Is our imagination running and playing trick on us when the lights are out? The monster in the closet, is it real? If it is, what does it want? Will it leave if we ignore it? It's the ignorance of the subject that leads many to grow unsettled and learn to ignore any matter of the subject, leaving people vulnerable to the wonders of the unknown. However, there are those who wholeheartedly take the unknown and let it drive them. Drive them to gain the knowledge of that bump in the dark, what it is, what it wants, what it does. Yet when they find that answer, it turns them to wish they had never searched, when that bump in the night turns out to be greater than the fear of the once unknown. Moreover, the supernatural. Skeptics want to believe it's nothing more than hoaxes, believers want to find out more and unveil the ultimate truth, and a minuet portion of the entire population actual investigate the reality of the whole. It's those people who are your everyday neighbor. They look just like us, talk like us, walk like us, but their jobs are beyond the average believers reality.
Those individuals are refereed to as Reapers of the Grimm.
Chapter One: Reapers of the Grimm
There was a story parents would tell there kids around the night of Hallows Eve about a widowed wife who roamed the forest in search of her late husband, knowing full well that he had be taken by the cruel mistress of war, and bring him home so they may live in peace and die happy. Yet as the widow would search the forest, she would hear her husband call out to her, to follow his voice and find him. So she would. She followed his calls and bellows, anticipating the sight of the man and the desire to once more embrace him. However, the story does not have quite the happy ending. As the widow runs to her beloveds calls, she is unaware of her surroundings and plunges to her demise as she sprints off of a cliff. Her body was never found, but it is said that if you wander around the edge of the cliff she supposedly died from, you can see her form sprinting and suddenly vanish as she runs up to the edge. The problem with that story is it is all to true, safe for a few details kept from children to make it more friendly, but why would the children mind if all they want to see is the widow for their own eyes. Which is what a small circle of young children, aging from thirteen and under, wanted to witness just for themselves. Packed with nothing but the cloths on their backs and two touches, the posse of five hurriedly made their way to the sight before their parents could notice their missing selves.
Now, the journey itself would take no more than an hour, unaccounted that the correct path is safely followed. Though young in age, the group new the woods fairly well, so it was no shock they new where they needed to go to make head of time and make it to the cliff before the witching hour, a time where the spirits of the dead are very much alive and, ironically, the time that the widow supposedly died, but during such time, so are the nocturnal creatures that inhabit the woods. Yet, the children didn't care. They were in for the adrenalin, for the rush of disobeying their parents strict rules of staying inside beyond the moons rise, especially on the night of Hallows Eve, and for seeing what nobody, whom they know of, has never seen before. All they wanted was to see, just once, the sight of a real spirit and possibly see what really happened the night she died.
Nearing the sight, the oldest of the small group mushed the underlings along hoping the catch at least the last glimpse of the woman as she falls off that cliff. What a sight it would be to first hand witness a story come to life. What was going to happen? They got giddy just thinking about it.
"Murt, look!"
The youngest of the group pointed ahead and just beyond the treeline was the sight of the cliff. From behind them, they could hear heavy feet slamming the ground, like someone was running.
"Quick, hide! She's coming!"
The oldest pushed the group behind the largest bush he could see and they sat, waiting for the woman to make her way to her husbands calls. The steps grew louder and more rushed. She would appear any minute. Louder, louder, the sight of a ghostly white dress came into view, but just as soon and it appeared, it vanished as did the sound of the running.
"Murt, what happened? Where did she go?"
Murt, the oldest of the bunch, looked back at younger girl who spoke and shrugged.
"I'm not sure, Luna. Maybe that was it?"
The bunch groaned and agreed to head back home, disappointed at what the nights adventure had led to, but when they took no more than ten steps away from their hideaway, the running sounded again. Luna was the first to turn and witness what was running. Yes, it was the woman again, but she was running towards them, not the cliff.
"M-Murt!" the young girl shrieked and made no hesitation to start running away.
The oldest child slowly turned and saw a flash of white sprinting in their direction and froze in his spot.
"WHERE IS MY HUSBAND?!"
The widow was screaming at him, almost demanding he tell her what had happened to her beloved like Murt was the reason she could't find him. The rest of the group had already made hast and fled the scene, leaving Murt alone to fend for himself. It was at the moment he realized he was alone that Murt noticed that the widows face did not look like it had before. Her eyes had darkened to black, the white dress she wore was tattered and bloodied, her teeth were bared and showed rows of shape incisors, and the aura she gave off was nothing less than demonic. Murt was left feeling vulnerable, horrified, and most of all, scared. As the apparition came closer, all Murt could muster was pray that whatever happened was painless and that someone would find him eventually.
The widow screeched as she neared the terrified Murt and outstretched her arms and clawed nails, ready to strike him down. Eyes closed, Murt awaited his defeat and as time past, it never came. Taking the chance, he opened his eyes to a sight he never would have seen in his life. The spirit had burst into flames and dissipated before his eyes. He could hear the voices of two people chattering about something just beyond where the cliff was. Murt took a moment and decided to sneak a peak over the edge to see what was going on. What he saw was a small fire and two people, hard to tell if they were arguing or having a heavy discussion about the burning item.
"Hey!"
Murt called out to the two people and the instantly stopped and looked up to see him. He could tell it was a woman and a man now, neither looking much older than early adulthood. The woman had blond hair, held back with a red ribbon in a low ponytail. Her attire consisted of a beige, hooded cloak, an ankle length, red and black checkered skirt, black, turtle necked top and heavy boots. The male bore striking white hair and his attire was non to different in color. Aside from his black trousers and a black ribbon holding back what hair it could.
Both looked to one another and made hast to get back up the cliff, making it look like child's play as they did. Once finally up and beside the child, Murt started to question the two about what had just happened.
"W-what was that you were burning?! Did you see the lady in white? She burst into flames! What's going on? Who are you pe-"
The white haired male shot up his right hand to silence Murt as the blond took in a breath and readied for her explanation. Murt knew he was about to get scolded for being in the woods so late at night so he prepared for the worst. Instead, a soft hand landed on his shoulder and a smile crossed the womans face.
"I'm sorry you got caught up in the middle of what just happened, but you should know better than to be out this late at night. You could have been hurt-"
"Ya, ya, but he's fine. Let's get him home and head back to base. I'm sure there is another stupid assignment for us."
The white haired male turned and waved his hand, suggesting they hurry up and leave, wanting to waist no time. The blond just nodded her head and offered her hand to the young boy.
"Let's get you home, okay?"
...
Back at the village, the group of children stood staring at the woods, wondering where their friend Murt had vanished to. One moment he was there, and then-
"Hey guys!"
Luna smiled largely and ran to meet Murt half way.
"Murt! You made it out! What happened? Did the lady in white get to you?"
Murt shook his head and just smiled.
"Believe me, if I told you what happened, I don't think any of you would consider it possible... C'mon, lets go to bed. Bet our parents already noticed us missing anyway."
...
Opposite of the woods, the two strangers wandered their way back to the main road, both walking with hast to make it back to their next destination.
"Ma-AH! OW! What was that for?!" the males head had come into contact with a rather thick, leather bonded journal.
"Don't give that, you know EXACTLY what that was for. Soul, you said that there was nobody in the woods tonight and that boy could have been, if not hurt, severely traumatized by the acts of that Violent Spirit. You're the one with the ability to sense people. Why didn't you say anything?"
Soul, the man in question, rubbed his sore head where the journal had made it's very harsh contact.
"Well excuse me for missing one child on such a minuscule assignment, Maka. I can sense the souls of the corrupted much easier than the innocent."
Maka gave a sigh and just waved the conversation off. Soul was right after all. His perception of the innocent was not all that acute. It was top of his list to work on that. What mattered at the moment was getting back to base and giving a report to their "head cheese" as Soul has wholeheartedly nicknamed the head of the Reapers of the Grimm. Which brought up another topic...
"Hey Maka, why are we called the Reapers of the Grimm? Why not just shorten in and call ourselves Grimm Reapers. It makes more since and isn't a mouthful, plus it sounds much cooler."
Maka shrugged. "I don't know, because Lord 'Death' thinks it sounds informal, I guess. Ask him about it when we get home." Maka answered, taking a quick glance at the map that was provided by Lord 'Death' for their travels. It would take a good three days to actually make it back to base if the weather stayed fair. Lodging was no problem since they already had plans set in the nearest village, but it still a good days walk from where they left. With it being just past the witching hour, it was time for some much needed rest. Maka wanted to stop and set up camp for the night, but Soul had other plans.
"Just less than a mile ahead is an inn. Let's see if we can't stay there before we decide to sleep in the dirt tonight."
Seeing no other option, Maka agreed and made haste to the known housing, which surprisingly, was exactly where Soul said it would be. What had Maka was that she didn't remember this housing being around when they traversed this road not two days ago. Maybe she just looked over it? Who cares, a soft bed sounded wonderful. They made it inside and groggily stumbled over to the inn keepers desk, ringing the bell to announce their arrival. An elderly man made his way carefully to the desk and smiled gleefully at the two young people in his presence.
"Why, fair greetings young Mad'am and Sir. How may we assist you tonight?" the elderly man exaggerated his hand movements as he spoke to the two Reapers.
Maka genuinely smiled at the man and started to answer. "Two roo-"
"One room is all we need." Soul turned to Maka and gave a sly smirk. "C'mon, you know we don't have enough coin to take on two beds."
'What is he getting at? We have plenty to last us for another week in this place.' Maka thought, eyeing Soul with narrowed slits."You have a point I guess."
The elderly man obliged the two as they paid for the single and were handed an oddly shaped copper key. "Third room on the right. You two sleep well." and the man was gone. Nothing looked, felt, or gave the impression that anything was out of the ordinary. All except for Soul. Taking a quick gander over her shoulder, she draged her partner to the room door and glared at him, demanding for an answer to his actions.
"Tell me , Maka, did you see this Inn whenever we past down this road to banish the soul of the white woman?"
"No... Wait are you saying that-" Souls hand shot up and hush Maka before she could get anymore out.
"Not out hear. C'mon, lets get some shut eye so we can head out tomorrow..." With that, Soul opened to room and pushed Maka inside, locking it behind them in haste.
...
Grey eyes peered into a small glass, carefully watching as the water rippled with every movement of the glass. Though not drinking the water, it was more of an entertainment as he waited for his targets to settle. It was time to feed and there was two perfect morsels snuggled up under his trap. The elderly mans mouth gaped open at the thought of sinking his teeth into living flesh one more. Hunger was growing quickly and his patience was diminishing. The man allowed hushed hums escape his throat and looked out of the window. Dawn would be breaking soon and the two targets should be long asleep by then. What a perfect way to have breakfast.
"From their young bodies, fresh life and new value..."
The words growled out of his mouth as his hunger soon became the best of him and decided to head to his meal sooner than anticipated. The room he gave them had a one way lock, only able to open from the outside if locked from the inside. He had a spare key as well, making an entrance into their sleeping quarters much easier. Turning the key and slowly opening the creaky door, the elderly man cunningly made his way to the bedside and saw the blond hair of the young girl just peeking from under the sheet. Taking no more time, the man grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her from the bed, ready to just start eating...
Only when he pulled out who he thought was the girl, turned out to be a crudely made doll with yellow yarn hair. Looking up he noticed that the white haired male was gone as well. What the hell was going on? Nobody ever left this room!
"Where the hell did you go?!" The man bellowed, his hunger being fueled by his anger now.
"Psst, over here."
The man turned at a soft whisper and was met with a blunt force strike to his head, staggering him momentarily, but long enough for the sharp edge of a hatchet to meet his neck, decapitating his head cleanly. The body fell limp and the head rolled under the bed. With a soft sigh and an irritated grunt, Maka and Soul grabed the body and dragged it outside behind the inn along with the head, and set them both ablaze.
"... Can we go to bed now?" Maka asked, finally releasing a long awaited yawn.
Soul softly chuckled and nodded. "Ya... Man I hate ghouls."
Hey, hello, how's it going?! Thank you guys so much for taking time out of your oh so busy days to read this first chapter of my new Fic! Honestly, I blame my brother for this. He got me hooked on Supernatural recently and I've had Soul Eater on the brain so I just put them both in my blender of a brain and came up with this classy bit! I really hope you enjoyed this and expect to see much more! I make no promise on my update schedule. I work full time and about to start College so if I do make updates, they may come staggered from within days of each other too weeks.
I greatly appreciate Reviews and love corrective criticisms! No flames please! Feel free to follow to keep up with this story and i hope to see you until the very end!