Mirg Repaer tapped her long red nails against the silver of her space suit. Those back at head office had sneered at her. She was a new generation of Reapers. None of that black cloak and scythe lark for her—so outmoded. Besides she was determined to win the Reaper of the Year contest and show those old fuddy duddys a thing or two. So what if she didn’t actually wait for her humans to die, they still died didn’t they? Just because she helped them on their way was a small technicality and space was the perfect hunting ground.
Helen is a fiction writer, who writes in various genres which include fantasy, noir, horror and humour. She has written several short stories, flash fictions and poems. Her work has appeared in both e-zines, anthologies and print publications. She has two novellas published, a Psychic Thriller and a Y/A Paranormal. You can find her flash fiction, serials and poems on her website http://writingmywords.com
