One Step Ahead of the Reaper

Like everyone in this world, I will – one day – meet my maker, but for now I stay one step ahead of the Reaper. He’s been chasing me ever since I was a little boy, when I nearly died in the middle of a fever due to an infection.

Haunted Stories: One Step Ahead of the Reaper

Photo credit: flickr/aliscarpulla

The doctor went as far as to prepare my family for my demise. Terror rings true when death is imminent. I remember lying in my bed, drenched with sweat, as the light in the room darkened to pitch black. My teeth chattered and I felt a frosty breeze creeping from my toes right up to my small head.

Then I saw him.

A tall, frightening, hooded specter – descending from the darkest shadows in what I thought was my bedroom. What terrified me the most was his skeletal face and the dry, thorny tongue lolling about and over his jagged teeth.

I screamed as the roar of what seemed like a thousand tornadoes splintered my eardrums, while he raised his scythe. Whether it was my lust for life or my childish impudence, I turned my back on him and yelled, “IT’S MY LIFE!”

I didn’t know at the time that I’d cheated death.

Suddenly the lights were back on and I was screaming on the floor. My Mom raced in and scooped me up. I tried to tell my parents about what happened but they all assumed the fever had made me hallucinate.

From that day forward I had an incredible understanding that I was in control of my destiny. I knew deep down in my soul that the only reason people died was due to them giving up and losing the fight.

I was afforded the opportunity to cheat death many times over the years, despite my attempts to stay safe. When I was a teenager, doing what reckless teenagers are apt to do (speeding in my car) - he returned.

It was a rainy night and the car crashed into a huge tree. I was barely conscious when I heard the familiar tornadoes. My eardrums pulsed in pain as the pitch black darkness tried to consume me, while my bloodied head tried to lift up.

I remember gripping the steering wheel and through gritted teeth screaming, “IT’S MY LIFE – IT’S NOT MY TIME!” I saw the Reaper glaring at me with his black eyes through the windshield - his enraged skull against the glass.

After butting his skull angrily against the glass, he disappeared and I was suddenly dragged out of the burning car.

One of the creepiest encounters was when I was in my late twenties, carelessly walking through a bad neighborhood. I was checking out an isolated section of scrub-land next to a railway track, when I heard footsteps behind me.

Before I could turn around to face my attacker, I felt the searing pain of a long blade being thrust into my back. A flash of cold panic rushed throughout my nervous system as the attacker plucked my wallet from my pants pocket.

Then the deafening tornadoes rushed into my ears while the impenetrable darkness washed over me. The Reaper appeared in front of me, striding towards me with his huge scythe held high by a skeletal hand.

He seemed to be mocking me as an evil laugh broke through the tornadoes in my ears. “NOW YOU’RE MINE!” He dragged me up with the other bony hand, bringing my face only an inch away from his terrible face.

I felt his sandpaper tongue scrape my cheek as the bottomless pits that were his eyes bore into my soul. Screaming “I’LL NEVER BE YOURS!” into the Reapers’ face, I saw a flash of light as he yelled his outrage, “NOOO!”

Since then, I’ve been on constant lookout.

My wife recently gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. The other night I could have sworn I saw a shadow hovering over them both in the darkness...