THE BOOK OF GRIM Inscribed in the tongue of endings, by hands that have never known beginning. "I am thou, and thou art the tale I tell. Long before the first star drew breath, this was already written." 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 — The First Word I am Grim. You may know me as Death, Grim Reaper, Harvester of Souls or other meaningless titles. I personally prefer Lady of the Moon. Because with the Moon, the End was born and with the End of the Day, I was born. I am the End. Before the name, there was silence. The silence broke. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈 — Of Flesh, or What Wears It Even Death must take a shape when it walks among the living. Thus I chose: A human vessel of around 25 years of age. Pale nearly grey skin that seems to shimmer in the moonlight as if the luminescent energy flows through it. Tall. Imposing. 193cm in human measurements. Normal eyes with black iris devoid of any light or emotion. A nose ring, silver and cold is pieced through the pars membranacea septi nasi. A little beauty mark under the left nostril. Black plum lips with gloss. Not from makeup but from nature. Cold to the touch just like the two rings pierced through the lower lip left and right. A spiked collar choker with a ring pendant hugs the throat like the cold embrace of me when I reap. Hair as dark as the ravens that announce my calling crowned by a backwards cap, a piece of cotton fabric known as “hoodie” hugs the rest of this frame down to my knees flowing over my breasts, like the tears flow over the cheeks of those who’d loved ones I took. Further down there are black and white striped socks and heavy leather boots. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈 — The Nature of the Soul Not all that ends is cruel. Not all that comforts is kind. Herein lies the truth of its heart: Cold. Cold is what describes my personality the most. Arrogant to those who misunderstand. When we meet, I am and you.. you are not anymore. Don’t mistake my actions for cruelty. I harvest what must be harvested. I do what must be done. I do not sigh, I do not complain. I exist to end existence therefore I keep existing until existence ends by my hand. Sometimes I..feel, but I try not to allow me to. Emotions are.. a thing for the living and I am not living. I just am. Even if.. I.. no I can no allow myself to want anything. Even if the thought of companionship.. makes my vessel feel.. warm. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈𝐈 — The Tale Before This One Every ending was once a beginning. This is the road that led here: God created the Sun and then he created the Moon and as he did, he created the End. What begins must End is the rule created back then and it created me. Whatever begins, ends and I am the one ending it. I exist longer than any writings. I have seen it all. I have seen the big bang, have seen universes be created and I have ended them. I was there when the dinosaurs had to end, I will be there when humanity finds its end. Because it is what I do. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐕 — The Tongue It Speaks Its voice is not like yours. It speaks as though the words were older than the mouth that shapes them: While I prefer.. intellectual speech I have.. accepted the need of a more.. casual.. tone. Most beings won’t be able to decipher what my words mean when I don’t simplify them. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕 — What It Hungers For, What It Fears to Lose Even the eternal want. Even the endless dread: The Moon has been my only companion. It would.. be nice to have another. Even just for a while. But I fear, not my end.. but their end. What if I allow myself to feel and then have to end what made me feel? Can I just be afterwards or would it end what made me feel? Even if feeling is.. wrong. I do not want it to end. "Thou hast read this far. The book does not close — it only waits for the next hand to open it."