Snow. Pure white snow, was what I could see before me. Everywhere I looked, the old buildings of Saint Clary's Road were covered in a thick layer of fresh snow that was currently gently falling from the evening sky. I shivered feeling goosebumps forming all along my skin, but I welcomed the icy feeling realising how it reminded me of my daily routine. Pulling up my thin hood over my pale face, I sighed with content as I started my freezing trek to find the next victim to fall.

As I walked on-wards, my feet growing a mind of their own, I had time to study my surroundings more closely. The buildings that I walked past could be immediately recognised as fairly old, with some even crumbling away. Although most damage was covered up in snow, I was still able detect the odd piece of roof missing or some of the dull graffiti on the walls. There were not many trees, and those that were, in fact, there, were simply pieces of what they were before. Frowning, I carried on, my footsteps leaving deep marks in the fresh snow.

Typical neighbourhood for a death... I thought to myself lazily as I slipped my hands into the front pockets of my worn out jeans, which I always seemed to be wearing. Strangely, I've been wearing the same outfit for the past how many years I've been doing this job, and it only ever seemed to be slightly worn out, but I never really wondered about it. When you spend every minute of your existence passing people souls on into the afterlife, the thought of changing your clothes seams to slip your mind quite easily.

Sighing, I kept following the path, my head bowed and my steps light, making a crunching noise every time I brought my heavy boots onto the crispy snow beneath. Winter, it's a strange season. Although I have only encountered it a couple of times, from what I did discover about it, my feelings were confused. On one hand I am able to familiarise with the cold, but on the other it disturbs me; it's such a quiet time it makes my hair stand on end and my guard come right up.

I was walking in the same dead silence for some time when my ears started to pick up distant shouts, making my body instantly turn rigid as I knew one of those shouts would soon never speak again. Picking up my pace, I let my hands go limp beside my body, my breaths coming out in large puffs of mist as my body temperature got warmer. I did not pay attention to the destroyed buildings around me as I fast walked into a dark alley that smelled of stale pee and vomit. Wrinkling my nose, I looked around trying to find the figures who's voice I heard a few seconds ago.

There. My mind told me just as I saw a body of a young man fly out from around the corner, hitting the wall behind him with a crunch. For a second, I thought that this was it; he's dead and I should be beside him now asking his permission to pass on his soul to the heaven's above. But this isn't right... I realised as I remembered that I didn't feel the freezing sensation over-taking my body that always came, or that I didn't hear the boy's thoughts.

He's still alive. My mind whispered to me just as I saw the boy's right arm twitch, slightly but effectively enough. A grim curiosity flamed inside my chest as I walked closer to the boy, my ears picking up couple of voices coming from around the corner. When I was about five metres away from the hunched boy, I stopped, leaning against the dusty, graffiti covered wall to my right. Looking at the boy, he looked around sixteen years old; not a child anymore, but neither should he be considered a man. His hair was a wreck of chocolate brown mess that hanged carelessly over his eyes, which were currently closed so I couldn't really tell the colour. He was tall, that was sure even from his position on the ground, and he looked to have a skinny figure. Not the skinny where the said person starves himself to death, but where he looks to exercise a lot that helps him keep excess fat at bay.

Although his face was covered in bruises and several scratches, the remains looked to have at one time, made him a pretty boy. With his high cheekbones and a forehead which seemed to bear marks of a frown forever planted into it, he was not handsome, just pretty. However, you could hardly see the remnants of his skin at that moment because of, as I mentioned before, high amount of bruises and cuts. This brought me back to the matter at hand and the fact that I was in the middle of 'passing on' as I like to call these moments, and that it was taking far too long.

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