Cold.

That’s how he liked it.

He liked the way the vapor sprayed out of his mouth into the chill night air.He liked how it made his body tingle and feel awake. Alive. A feeling he has always wanted to have, to hold.To be alive.Though the cold was his favorite it made him just as unhappy as warmth.

When he stripped away the masked feeling of being alive and awake.He finally realizes that he’s not.That he’s not awake.That hes not alive.He’s just another tortured soul-no- not soul.He didnt have a soul, a heart or anything else one would associate with being alive.He had no soul.His soul was dead.

He watched the people that pasted by as the walked on towards the little town shops.They rummaged through the various trinkets or stopped for a warm mug of hot chocolate.Some passing by or through him entirely.

He pushed his hands deep into his black trousers walking off.He kicked at the piles of snow lined up.He tried to relieve the voices of the joy and love the filled the air.Many were surrounded by family and friends as they prepared for the holidays.Their laughter and cheers annoyed him.He gripped his hand around his Scythe hard before calming his self down.The scythe disappeared into a wave of black smoke.

He could feel each and everyone of their souls.All, but one.He glanced over.He couldn’t feel a presence, no warmth just darkness. ‘Another reaper’ he thought.

“Hmn.”He snickered walking on until his ghostly figure was no more.<