a little story

Death of a Snowflake
S. L. Ayer
Death's eyes stared with unfeeling. His aura expelled a consuming chill. Just another day on the job. Death sighed then looked at his clipboard.
Name: Katie A. Shuckle
Sex: Female
Age: 22
Death: Internal bleeding due to beatings from boyfriend
Next of kin: 10 month old son, Jerald M. Shuckle
Such a shame really, Death thought. So young and being treated like that from someone who was supposed to care? Human were disgusting creatures...
Well, time for work.
He wore dark business clothes that made him look aristocratic and formal. His demeanor was an air of morbid achievement personified. He strolled down the street to a park in the freezing night breeze. It was the dead of winter and a soft pillowed blanket of virgin snow covered the ground. The moon hung like a toy on a string, large and luminous its light touched the snow and made it smolder like powdered diamonds. His footsteps didn't leave a mark in the snow, nor did they make a sound. He was as silent as the grave.
He walked onto the park trail and unspoken thoughts filtered through his mind.
Death liked his job. A lot in fact.
He got to travel, meet new people (then again it was only for a second when he was taking their lives), see new sights and learn new things.
Then again there was also a downside.
No vacation, No sick days or the souls would clog up like a drain with backwash and large clumps of gunk.
Death smiled.
Also, no time for family. He frowned. Not that he had a family. He tore families apart. Destroyed, devastated and broke them.
He bit his lip. Well, it was his job. He had to do it.
Human lives are like snowflakes, Death thought as he walked soundlessly. Small and completely different from one another. But so easily destroyed. One touch and they melted..
He heard a soft groan.
A woman looking very lovely in her powder blue snow jacket, and head of flowing blonde curls laid on her back in the middle of the trail. The soft breeze was blowing a small layer of snow atop her. Already trying to bury her. Her hair formed a golden halo around her cherubic face. She was coughing and her face was one of intense pain.
Death never liked seeing them in pain. They were just so pitiful when they were in pain.
Her eyes focused on him. Fear crossed her face and her lip trembled from both cold and dread. Snow in her hair accenting her pale skin and bright blue eyes. He knew how he looked to her. How he looked to all humans. Handsomely inviting, like a dark crimson rose. Beautiful the color of blood, until you get to the thorns.
He leaned down close to her and put her head on his lap. She coughed again and flecks of blood littered the snow. He stroked her hair.
"Shh, little one," he soothed and touched her eyes and over her mouth. She sighed and closed her eyes. She was dead. He laid her head back down into the snow and stood. A thick sticky bead of hot blood rolled down from the corner of her mouth. It dripped off her cheek and into the snow. Staining it. The snow melted instantly turning to a slushy red splotch.
He looked at her broken body. How alone and still it was in the cold dead night. Her soul was in his hand in the form of a warm white marble. He turned away and began to walk just as he had before, silent as the grave.
Softly he murmured under his breath in the gloomy chill of the night,
"Just like a snowflake.."

btw thank you uncle doug for the amazing time of having a subscription you are so awesome! lotsa love to mah dearest uncle!



-Rae