The snow floated down lazily with each flake giving way to those that fell beneath them until coming to rest on the white blanket that spread out across the city. The late morning sun ricocheted brightly off the monochromatic landscape. Winds whipped through the yard of the small brick house where death lived. In the midst of the cold a single flower stood in defiance of winter’s invasion. Red petals clung to the stem that gave them life. Winter had come in the night and stolen the color from the city.
He hated the winter. The vibrant hues of life were the only thing that made it worth going on. Staring out his window he was mesmerized by the flower. It had stood up against the onslaught of white that had destroyed his beautiful world and for that it would never die. He would protect it against…well himself. His name was Bob and he was death.