Grim

The winter held not life or death. This winter was not that of discontent, but of apathy; there was nothing upon the world but dead trees and frozen grasses, covered with snow. These, and a figure, cloaked in pitch. He was old, older than any who had walked this frozen world, and still was not free. Though his task was finished, he could not retire. He waited.

This was not fair.

Time passed, though history could not record, and still he waited. This was not fair. Dutifully he preformed his task, and dutifully he worked for his end, but it still eluded him. He shook the shadows and stretched darkness upon his back, and waited.

This was not fair!

The stretch of eons would mean nothing, for still he must wait. This is the reward for his grizzly errand, and thus he stands alone for it. He tightens his gloved hand upon his seal of office, and waits. He waits, until inspiration strikes him; he has not finished yet! There must still be more for him to do, more to reclaim for his master. He shall not fail, and he shall claim his final rest.

This was NOT fair!

Long he searched, but still he found. This last of his quarry, these last three children of his first charge, are now to go before him. This is his final task. With his gloved and frail hands, his symbol of duty held high, he let drop the blade… and took his debt. His hooded face came alight with joy; he was now free! He was… left still to wait.

This was NOT FAIR!

He now knew what he must do. His freedom was his and his alone, and so he would need to take it. His master, who thought so much of the weak and frail, who charged him with this, would need to answer to him. His final debt to collect. Wings of shadow stretched far, cresting the ends of the Earth, and so he went to his master. He went to She’ol.

THIS WAS NOT FAIR!

Now he did return to his home, his place of birth and now his master’s coffin. His hood pulled back and sable robes held back by the winds of his might, he charged. Tens of millions of his brethren stood to stop him, and tens of millions his scythe harvested. This was his time, and none would stop him. This is how he came upon his master, his master, cloaked in light. This, though, would not stop him, for he would collect his debt, and even God could not stand before the one truth of existence. His wings stretched far, he took his debt from I Am himself, and was now free. He was now free… to wait. For all he did, he would gain nothing, nothing but freedom to do nothing.

THIS IS NOT FAIR!!!

Now he stands alone, waiting. Time has become immeasurable, and the world has lost all wonder and light. He waits, a relic of time itself, in this ended world where nothing happens. He can only wait. This is his freedom, and punishment. In his hubris, he must wait, and so he does. He stands waiting… Forever.

THIS IS NOT FAIR!!!