Meeting death

I felt the wind brush my ears.
The cold press down on me.
It was a sign.
It was a warning.

I knew when he came.
I hear the sound of his cape snapping in the wind.
I could feel his cold gaze on me.
He had come.

"No."
I would not give up without a fight.
"It's too late to run."
His voice was as soft as a snake sliding over rock.

Run?
Where could I run that would hide me from him?
Was there anywhere safe?
No, no one could escape him.

His blade settled on my neck.
I felt a chill run down my spine.
"Say goodbye to your pretty little head."
With that the blade was cutting through my neck.

No one can escape death.