the-veiled-soul-abbie-chandler
Dear readers, tonight with me is a woman doomed to pay for crimes she doesn’t remember committing. As a grim reaper, the split of time between life and death is the only chance she gets to feel anything real.

She is here to tell us about the ephemeral transition between life and death, and of what binds her to the mortal world.

 

 

Tell us a little about where you grew up. What was it like there?

I have absolutely no idea where I grew up. As a grim reaper, my memories of my life (and the crime that got me here) have been wiped clean, and I’m stripped of my soul. The only life I’ve ever known is the reaper realm. It occupies the same space as the physical world. Same buildings, same things, but there are no people. There is no color. I leave ghostly footprints. I could be crashing is your guest bedroom or stealing your coffee. I can’t stick around in the same place very long, so I bounce around from houses to hotel rooms. The only thing I’m meant to do is reap souls, but residual urges drive me. I eat. I sleep. I run. I have sex. It’s muted and emotionless, but I guess it’s the only way I can connect to what I used to be.

How did you get here?

As a reaper, I’m unable to connect any living being. They’re not supposed to be able to see me. Just before I was ripped out of the reaper realm and thrust back into the physical world, I was supposed to reap the soul of a murdered young girl. The only problem is that the killer was there, and he could SEE me, and he seemed to know me. Then, instead of killing the girl, he tried to kill me. It’s not even possible to kill a reaper, but in that moment, my whole world shifted, and I was in the middle of a parking lot, bleeding to death. So now I’m trying to piece together how I got out, why a human could see a reaper, and what I did in the past to be a reaper to begin with. To make matters worse, I feel a constant pull to kill. I have no soul. I feel a bit like a monster.

But it’s nothing like him. They call him the Phoenix. Before he tried to murder me, I felt his soul. It was solid. Pure evil. Continue reading “Lia (of The Veiled Soul by Abbie Chandler)”

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