The night was incredibly hot. It was obvious that a storm will be coming soon.
The small town was quiet. People that lived there retreated into their houses and were enjoying a relaxing evening.
Darkness of the night was occasionally interrupted by a weak light coming from a street lamp.
A lone car driving down the street broke the eerie silence. It stopped by one of the houses and a man came out. His feet were barely carrying that short and fat body of his towards the house door. He was sweating, but not just from the heat. He knew he was discovered. If he had got out of the town sooner with the money he embezzled, he would be sweating on the sun of some tropical land now. But he got greedy and wanted more. And now he had to run out of town, every second being important.
With chubby fingers he dug through his pockets searching for the keys to the house. With every moment that passed, his fear grew bigger and so did the sweat stains on his suit.
His ears caught a faint sound behind him and he turned around. His little rat eyes grew bigger when he saw the figure standing behind him.
Lightning flashed through the night and he could swear it was the incarnation of Death that has come for him. He wasn’t that far from the truth.
It was a man in mid twenties. His beautiful face was partially covered by bluish grey bangs. Green camouflage suit fitted his muscular body almost perfectly.
But the detail that stood out the most was a large scythe in his hand. His favorite weapon, his tool of justice…
Coming closer he wrinkled his nose at the disgusting smell of sweat and urine coming from his soon to be victim. He looked into the man’s eyes.
“Any last words?” His cold, deep voice cut through the silence like a knife.
Tears started coming out of the little man’s eyes. Falling on his knees, he begged for mercy, but it was useless.
“Those who beg for mercy don’t deserve it. There is no greater pleasure for Grim Reaper than to rid the world of their existence.”
Another lightning flashed through the night sky and light reflected on the blade of the scythe as it fell down. Blood sprinkled on the porch and both body and the detached head fell down.
The killer wiped his scythe on the victim’s clothes and turned around to leave, the sound of his heavy footsteps getting lost in the rainy night.