How could one of the darkest nights I have ever seen turn even darker? It found a way. A horrifying, impossible way.

Earlier that night, when my parents told me that I couldn't attend my friend's Halloween party, I thought my world was about to end. Only now do I realize how overdramatic I was when I compare it with everything that awaited me later that night.

As Alma always made the best, creepiest, the most exciting parties, I didn't even think twice about sneaking out. I was way too excited to see what she came up with to think about the possible repercussions if my parents found out.

However, as I walked down a rather dark street, barely able to see anything, I started to question my decision. Because although I didn't believe in vampires, werewolves, and all that supernatural nonsense, I was aware that the worst of creeps and psychos loved to come out and play on Halloween night.

When I turned the next corner, my heart was pounding like crazy because it was one of the most terrifying things I had ever seen, my kryptonite, if you will. And even though I tried to convince myself that the figure in a black hoodie with a scythe was just an overly enthusiastic teenager, emo, or something, my erratic heartbeat knew better.

Slowly, like in one of the tensest scenes in horror movies, the person turned around and what faced me was worse than any of my nightmares. Even more terrifying was that I knew it was real because my mind wasn't imaginative enough to conjure up something as horrifying as that.

"Mom?" I asked, looking at the two-faced creature whose left side was my mother's face while the other side seemed to belong to a demon skeleton from hell.

As the creature's, my mother's, eyes focused on me, they narrowed down in anger, the anger that I was so familiar with, but that had never been more alarming than in that moment. The fury that was known to every mother and child; the one directed towards a disobedient child.

However, this time, I was scared for my life because the skeleton side of her face looked terrifying. As the anger spread from her human to her utterly inhuman side, the eye on that side turned completely red. It burned as brightly as I imagined the fires of hell would have.

"Mary Elizabeth Michaels, what in the world are you doing here?" Kritanta, my mother, asked, her hand gripping the scythe so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "Didn't I warn you not to come out tonight? Do you ever listen to what you are told?"

There was a buildup of electricity in the air as my terror rose, and I was unsure what the right thing to do would be. If we are being honest, whatever it was, I couldn't do it. So, it didn't seem to matter much.

"What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?" mom said in one of her strictest mom voices.

However, all I could do was stare at the skeleton side of her face. Looking at the bones and that terrifying eye, trying to make sense of it all. At the same time, I couldn't help but wonder when the scythe would fall on my head and end it all with one swift beheading.

Don't get me wrong, I was never afraid of my mother, or at least not more than most children are scared of their strict parents. But, at that moment, I wasn't sure if I was talking to the same woman who told me bedtime stories and kissed my finger to make it better when I hurt it. She seemed to be both my mother and something else, something wicked.

"Are you...Are you a demon?" I managed to ask shakily.

"A demon?" mother said indignantly. "Don't be ridiculous! Children these days! They know so little about the world they live in. Still, I would've expected at least you to get it right. After all, I taught you more than once about what goes on during Halloween."

"But those were just scary camp stories that you made up," I said, dumbfounded.

Every eerie story she had told me during the years couldn't have been the truth. The world couldn't be such a terrifying place, could it?

"I am not a demon or anything like that," she said, exasperated. "I am Death."

As she said that, she pointed at the scythe, looking at me as if that was quite an obvious thing and I was being so slow in getting it. She seemed like a disappointed teacher rather than an angry demon from hell. That helped me relax. Maybe some of my mother's self was left in that being, whatever it was.

"How can you be Death?" I asked, still not getting it. Death was just a concept, an event opposite of birth. "And why do you look like that?"

She turned around quickly as if she heard something that I hadn't, busy as I was trying to figure out who my mother actually was. Her scythe started glowing bright red, making her seem even more otherworldly than I first saw her.

"Look, I don't have time to explain. I have a job to do, and you are in danger if you stay here. Take this and head to the church," she said, giving me an amulet that I've seen her wear from time to time. "It should protect you well enough for the short trip."

"But..." I started to say, unsure if I should trust this new creature that acted so much like my mother but didn't completely sound like a well-meaning mother.

"Listen, we don't have time for this. For once in your life, do what I tell you to do, and I promise I will come and get you and explain everything, alright?" she said, pulling her hood tighter over her face and taking a fighting stance. "Run and don't turn back!"

Even though I wasn't sure if I could trust my mother, something in her voice made me obey without further comments. I dashed toward the church, thinking that whatever was going on, the church couldn't be a dangerous place. There was always safety and comfort there.

Still, rebellious teenager as I was, I couldn't obey my mother completely, so I turned around for a short second while I ran, and I wish I hadn't. Creepy translucent shadows surrounded my mother while she wielded her scythe with the mastery of a superhero. The weapon dispersed every shape it touched, and all that remained was the shining red light of her imposing tool.

That was all I saw before I turned the corner, running out of view of my mother, who could have been fighting for her life as far as I knew. But then again, maybe she could never die.

*****

I was sitting in the cold church shaking for a while before a figure materialized, startling me from the dazed state I had been in since I arrived and collapsed on the bench.

"Praise the Lord, you actually listened to me," mother said, moving toward me as if to hug me.

When I pulled away, she realized that was the wrong move. So instead of approaching me, she sat down on the opposite bench pulling her hood down.

"How can you even be here, say the name of the Lord and things like that?" I asked the first random thing that came to my mind.

"Honestly, Mary, I'll really have to stop you from watching all those scary TV shows," mother said, sounding far more tired than I've ever heard her. "I am not evil, so there is no reason for me not to be allowed into a church. But at least your shows got that part right. No evil being can enter the church because it's sacred ground."

"But you said you were Death," I said, not understanding her logic. "And Death is evil. It kills people."

It was clear my mother was one step away from facepalming at my statement. But she managed to control the urge and pinched her nose in an attempt to gather her thoughts and find the right way to explain things. It was such a familiar gesture on such a scary, unfamiliar face that I didn't know what to do or think.

"Death is not evil, nor is it good. It's just inevitable. Everything that is ever born has to die. That's just how life is," she said slowly, looking for the right words. "My job isn't to kill people but to facilitate their transition from life to death, that is all."

"Then what was all that whoosh whoosh," I asked, wildly moving my hands around in a pathetic imitation of her motions with the scythe I had seen earlier.

"I should have known someone as headstrong as you wouldn't listen to me fully," mother said, sighing deeply.

It was hard to see her looking so tired, defeated even. I felt like I was being insensitive. I mean, there she was, fighting off some strange shadowy creatures. And now instead of being allowed to rest, she was interrogated by her child. On the other hand, I really needed to know it was my mother I was with. That it was not something else. Something that would try to hurt me.

The more she talked, the less I saw her as a two-faced creature and more as my mother, the woman who was always there for me when I needed her the most.

"What I told you is the truth. My job is to facilitate the end of life," she said, running her fingers through her long dark hair. "However, that is not all I do. Sometimes, or more precisely on Halloween night, my job is a bit more...intense. I keep all the lost souls, angry spirits, and evil beings at bay. It is my job to stop them from hurting the living."

"But how can they come here in the first place?" I asked, trying to understand it all but failing miserably as my brain decided to turn itself off.

"Come on, you know this. Remember the stories," mother said encouragingly.

"The veil between the worlds is thinner on Halloween, allowing those from the other side to reach out. Even to come through to our world," I said, automatically as if I was repeating school lessons which, in a way, I was.

"Exactly. And that is why we told you to stay at home tonight. We were trying to protect you from all of this," she said, stretching her hand to stroke my cheek.

I didn't recoil back from the comforting touch, but I still didn't trust it completely. I had so many questions I needed answered.

"So, you didn't just tell me to stay home to hide what you are from me?" I asked sternly.

"No, of course not. We were planning on telling you after you turned eighteen. We never meant for you to find out this way," she said as tears gathered in her eyes. "Please tell me that you are okay."

Before I could answer, her scythe started pulsating and glowing, interrupting our bonding moment. I could see the indecision on her face clearly. She was torn between her duty and her family, and I hated to see that look on her.

"Go save the world," I said resolutely. "I'll stay here until you come back and get me."

"Are you sure?" she asked, already getting to her feet.

"Yes, it would be the same if I had a doctor or a cop as a mother, the urgent calls and all that," I said, waving her off.

She disappeared as quickly as she appeared in the first place, and the moment she was gone, my body sagged back down on the bench, curling up into itself. It took me a while to realize that I was shaking all over, and only when my loud sob reverberated through the church, did I recognize that I was crying.

I wasn't sure why I couldn't stop the tears. Whether it was all the lies, the truth, fear for my mother, or fear for myself. Whatever it was, it just got to be way too much for me, and I had to let it all out.

****

The next thing I knew, comforting hands brushed through my hair, murmuring everything would be alright. And even though it felt like it had been only minutes since my breakdown started, I knew without opening my eyes that my mom was back. She was comforting me without fully realizing why I was breaking apart.

"It's okay, you will be alright," her calming voice said, and I believed her.

Still, I didn't want to open my eyes because I feared that if I saw her strange new face, I might not feel as comforted as I did at that moment. That I would question her motives again.

"I don't...even...know...why I'm crying," I said through sobs.

"You are overwhelmed, and that's understandable," mom said, gently wiping away my tears. "It's not every day that you learn your mother is Death."

"Haha, that's true," I said, laughing through tears, realizing how ridiculous the reality just got for me. "What does that all mean, though? For the future, I mean?"

Mom's hand suddenly stopped stroking my hair, my question catching her off guard.

I opened my eyes, barely noticing her distorted face because of the expression that colored all her features. It was one of worry and hesitation.

There was something, something more that she wasn't telling me, that she worried about telling me.

"Mom, I need to know everything if I am ever going to wrap my head around this," I said as I wiped away my tears with the sleeve of my shirt. "Is your face gonna stay that spooky forever or something?"

Realizing that I was teasing, she gave me one sad smile that was far from her genuine bright smile that could brighten a person's day.

"No, this is only a Halloween thing. It helps me better see the evil," she said, shifting uncomfortably, which looked really strange with her new creepy get-up. "So, there is a reason why we planned to tell you all about this when you turned eighteen."

"And that is?" I asked, prompting her encouragingly.

"When you turn eighteen, you become the Grim Reaper," she said quickly.

It was as if she was ripping off a band aid in one go to avoid prolonging the suffering.

"Excuse me?" I asked, unable to process the impossible new information.

"Yes, every daughter of Death becomes a Grim Reaper when she turns eighteen, which means she becomes her mother's trainee. The mother teaches her all she knows until all the knowledge is transferred. Then, Death retires, and the daughter becomes Death," mom explained, looking at my expression carefully, hunting for any signs of a reaction.

However, she got none because I was too stunned to even move a muscle. It was all just way too much.

No human mind could wrap itself around it. But, apparently, I wasn't even human to start with.

"Are we human?" I asked as the question popped up in my mind.

"Not exactly," my mother said cautiously. "We are immortals."

"Of course, of course," I mumbled incoherently. "What else would we be? Death. Grim Reaper. Immortal. Why not?"

"Come on, let me take you home. You've been through too much already," mom said, helping me get up.

"Are we going to just poof disappear?" I asked deliriously.

"No, I'll drive you home quickly. You can't use any powers until you are eighteen, and I can only move around like that alone," mother said, leading me toward the doors.

"Yes, yes. There are rules. We have to follow the rules," I said in a sing-song voice reminiscent of a drunk person.

"You will be fine, I promise," mom said, kissing my forehead after helping me into the car.

Everything was a blur after that, the ride home, the walk to my room until I found myself in my own bed, spiraling over who I was going to be and what it all meant. I didn't even hear when mom left again; or when dad entered the room.

"Honey, are you okay?" he asked.

"Did you know?" I asked, not sure how to answer his question. "Did you know what mom was when you married her?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "Your mother told me what happened, but I promise you will be alright."

"Really?" I snapped at him, lifting my head up in a quick movement that made me dizzy. "I will become a creepy figure who goes around killing people. How can that ever be okay? Besides, I thought Grim Reapers were dudes who represented death. That they had the whole scythe and creepy look thing."

"First of all, that is not what your mother does," dad said gently but sternly. "She helps people through the most difficult period of their lives, the end. And that is something you always wanted to do yourself, help people. This is just doing so on a larger level when they need it the most and when they have no one else to support them. As for the whole Grim Reaper thing, people believe what they choose to believe, and that's that."

"So, you are saying I will get to help people through their scariest time?" I asked, finally starting to understand my destiny, the purpose I was born with.

It seemed that it wasn't so different from the one I would have chosen for myself. And that gave me hope that everything would be okay after all.

"Exactly. You will be there to offer them compassion, comfort, and help. Something they need the most in that one moment of solitude. People always die alone, but you are there to ensure that they never are lonely or scared," he said.

"That does sound good," I said, lying back down, feeling sleepier than ever.

Just as my father was about to leave the room, I stopped him.

"Dad?" I asked.

"Yes, honey?" he said.

"What are you? Are you immortal as well?" I asked, sudden worry filling my heart.

"Yes, I am immortal, but we best not get into that right now, or your poor little head might explode from too much information," he said, ruffling my hair.

"Alright, that's good," I said, yawning loudly, too tired to bug him about the truth.

As I was about to fall asleep, a realization hit me. Phanes was my dad's name, the name he shared with a primordial god of creation. That had to mean something.

But before I could figure it out, I fell into a deep refreshing slumber, leaving all the questions and worries for another day.