Gone has a minion!

Faim the Griim

The day is cold and colorless, everything covered in a layer of white snow. Few people roam the streets, most having chosen to stay inside and avoid the freezing weather.

Barely visible against the snow is a figure in a pure white cloak. Despite being hunched over and using a cane, the figure walks at a fairly brisk pace. A few meters in front of it walks a young man, maybe in his early twenties. There is nothing particularly interesting about him; in fact, he is the picture of averageness. This quality extends into his personal life as well. This man, Peter Moore, has lived in the same town since he was born to his nurse mother and mechanic father. He made it through elementary, middle, and high school with mediocre grades and no great achievements. He then attended the local college for a year before dropping out due to insufficient funds and no real desire to continue going. After this he got a job working for his father's car shop until his father died of lung cancer, at which point he took over. A year later, his mother died as well, and Peter was left with no close family. He has friends, but none that he is very close with.

By now, the figure is only a couple of feet behind Peter. The street is mainly silent, with only the sound of feet crunching through the snow audible. The figure begins to slowly straighten its posture, the sound of bones cracking loudly and sickeningly breaking the silence as it rises to its full height of seven feet. Peter, up until this point having been occupied in his thoughts, notices the sound of someone behind him and glances around. It is at this point that the figure slices its cane, actually a scythe, through the air. It connects with Peter's neck and goes through cleanly, causing the head to fly off and land softly in the snow. The tall white figure is still for a moment, but then bends over to pick up the head and body. For a moment, it slips off its cloak to hang the body around its shoulders. This brief moment reveals the thinnest body, skeletal in shape but pure black. Against the snow it looks as if someone has cut a person out of the world, leaving behind a black void.

The cloak is now back on, and the figure begins to walk away, once again hunched over. It leaves behind no trace of what has just occurred, of Peter, save for a few indented stains of blood, which are soon concealed by a fresh layer of white snow. It is gone.

Credits
Street photo from here.