Warning: There may be a few graphic scenes involved.

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"ᴛᴡᴏ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜɴ
ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ
ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴇɴᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɴᴏᴛᴇ
ᴏʀ... ᴅɪᴅ ɪᴛ?"

Before I delve into the narration of the most incidental reaping of the year, I would like to tell you a little more about where I was. I doubt you'd comprehend anything if you didn't have that information. And since it requires much of your active imagination, than your passive one, I suggest you switch your fanciful mode on.

Meos. The capital of Eclax.

To clarify, Eclax is the location of all events. Everything. And when I say everything, I really mean everything. Yeah, I was just repeating myself there, for that extra bit of accentuation. Literally. It isn't easy to think about a place so new to your fresh and gullible minds, so I'll help you through it.

The colder months had sent in a blanket of snow, engulfing the country. White on top, white on the bottom, and white everywhere. There was not a smidgeon of heat anywhere in the country. But there was nowhere else for anyone to go. Eclax was the only nation to have survived the harrowing experiments. Experiments that wrecked the human world altogether.

But don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining. The experiment - Nova, as they called it - had not left me with a split moment to spare. I had been floating around, gathering as many people as I could in the enormous expanse of air that my arm span could encompass. Had I been paid for what I did, I'd truly have gotten a huge sum out of the sheer effort I took to finish that.

Anyway, I was right there, at such a place that had lasted despite all odds. It's frightening to know that there are more undeserving scoundrels still alive. Sadly. But that had been the rule of your world, hadn't it? 'Survival of the fittest' as you claimed. 

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I was standing on immaculate snow that had only been tainted by the occasional footprint that had disrupted the otherwise flat snow. I was seized by an insatiable urge to stoop forward and straighten that spot, but it wasn't my place.

It was time for me to execute what I did best. Gather souls. Give them an abode to gather into. I wandered around a little before I finally caught the person I was intended to gather into a warm embrace.

He was tiny, oh so tiny. His black hair fell like a layer of blanket on his face. The strands were a little matted and curled, due to the lack of resources; but he still was a fine-looking, young man. It probably had crusted mud and snow, mixed into the strands; yet he still looked not-so-shabby. Plush cheeks, the skin kept treasured away from all the blemishes. Honestly, he didn't deserve to die. It was a moment of conflict, of course. He'd just been released into the savage of a world, but he had to depart so early.

As I kept my steps in pace with his, his face suddenly jerked up. His eyes met mine and for a second there, I was scared he could see me. But nobody ever could, and I was sure of it. I was like this unwanted shadow that lurked in the deepest corners of your fears, ready to gulp the ground underneath you the moment I got a chance.

The gorgeous blue in his eyes was only accentuated by the smooth eyelashes that guarded them, his eyes a shade so intense, so striking, it would be difficult to overlook its attractiveness. His small frame had been guarded by his mother's as she nudged him onto the small track along through which they could reach home.

"Mom? Who's this?" he asked, suddenly pointing at me.

When I saw him gesturing towards me, I let out a deep sigh. I wasn't that evident to untrained eyes, like I had mentioned before. But him seeing me really bewildered me.

Had I been a human, my expression would have been ghastly - mouth hanging open, eyebrows shot up to reach my hairline, so on and so forth. Since, I am not one... I don't really have to react the way you expect me to. So don't go about crying that the narrator wasn't relatable at all. I won't be relatable. Neither will I be reliable. So, don't bother trying at a mere glance of my character.

His small finger nearly pierced the nebulous shape of my body, that had been drifting like groundless waves. I shook my head at him, my hand going down to shush his voice.

"Who are you talking about? Come on, we can't stay here for long," his mother whispered. Her worried expression had distorted her face. Her eyebrows had crashed down, and her steps had been light and hurried.

The pallid face that she had sported had not really done much in bringing out the earthy tone of her eyes. Nevertheless, she'd been terrified, of course. After all they were running from the one place they shouldn't have been running away from. 'Where?' you might ask... That's kind of why I didn't mention. It's for you to find out.

He abruptly shifted his gaze away from me, his whole focus being on his mother's frenzied movement. "Where are we going, mom?" he asked, his childhood innocence painted all over his face.

I wondered how he could keep his mind off the fact that he'd seen something as distressing as me. But I didn't let it bother me for too long.

"Somewhere far."

That was all she said as she scooped the young kid in her arms and walked away from there. Despite their hurried pace, I had little trouble keeping up with them. You know what I mean. Oh wait, you wouldn't.

My legs, or the leg-like forms I possessed, were at least an inch above the snow. They didn't seem to mind the abrupt shift in speed. I followed them, right on their trail, until it was the time I deemed right.

Like clockwork, like most souls I'd collected, this one too had started with a commotion. A turbulent commotion is pretty much the first thing on the list that leads to a death. A crowd had dissipated right from the entrance, the men and women spilling into the tracks, with their hands clutching the unmistakable black piece of arms.

I'd always wondered what even was their need to wield guns at such a crucial time. It was only a poor mother and son who'd run away. There was practically no need to have rolled up such an atrocious temper. Reasons were less, but the excuses? Oh so many.

But like always, I stayed there, without uttering a single protest. My eyes scanning over the event that had been unfurling. Even if I did protest, how likely was it that they'd pay any heed to me? After all, they do declare themselves as the most powerful of all beings.

"Mom!"

The small wisps of smoke emanating from one of the pistols held by a woman had pierced right through the environment. The mother's eyes rolled back, as she let her mouth open in a small gasp. The bullet had pierced right through her chest, the exit orifice much smaller than what it formed during its entry. The blood gushed down that small hole, ever so effortlessly.

It wasn't an easy sight. Not at all. I would definitely be something for which I'd be classified as a hypocrite. I talk of blood and death in oh-so glorifying manner, all the while hating the mere sight of it.

The droplets had splashed here and there, some of it tainting the boy's smooth skin as he blinked his eyes in horror. Her body fell limp as her almost-lifeless form hit the ground with a thud.

I remained vigilant, ready to embrace the small soul that would shortly land on my palms. But what I had expected had not occurred.

The bullet that had been aimed directly at the sickly form of the young child had penetrated through a thicker set of muscles, instead. His mother's.

She lay crumpled in the snow, the cold contrasting sharply with the heat that was slowly going to evaporate from her body. The blood tainted the intricate white crystals in such a profound manner that it felt like some kind of painting.

The boy's face had been painted with an emotion that I had never seen before in anyone until then. It was a bizarre concoction of terror, horror, and, finally, astonishment. He was too young to equate his mother's writhing figure with death. He was small, shivering, and scared.

"Run." It was all she could manage between coughing a great deal of red, viscous liquid through her mouth, and trying to stop herself.

Her hand pushed him forward, and despite my horror, I knelt to face the woman who had been sprawled on the floor. I was meant to have gathered the little boy's soul, and if it had been any other time, I would've reeled it in- two deaths were never a big enough deal. Effortless. It would be effortless. But then, I felt it was a soul for another, as I tried to ignore the palaver caused by the people running after him.

Through the corners of my vision, I could see the helpless boy trying to shake his mother. His eyes were wet with tears gushing down his cheeks at an uncontrolled pace. His sobs were loud enough to startle the crowd that had come pushing through.

They didn't know what to do. The mother wasn't supposed to die at all. That wasn't what they were instructed to do.

'Get the boy. Do that, and your work is done. Bring the woman back to me... Alive.'

The brown aura of the woman's soul was just about to seep within my grip when it abruptly surged up, and suddenly wrapped all over the boy who had been standing there, stunned. His yelps filled the gloomy environment. There was no time to comprehend how, or why that had happened, because as soon as the soul attached to the boy, he had been whisked away, far from where my eyesight could go.

In simpler words, the soul had attached itself to the boy and taken him far away from that abhorrent scene. Almost as though, his mother were guarding him from innominate consequences. What were those? All that would be revealed in due time... Patience is virtue.

A sudden feeling of nostalgia seeped through me, as I remembered a similar event. But that had been centuries back. Back when people feared Hitler more than me. The one I was supposed to claim, escaped me for a solid five times, before finally succumbing into my control. But, right then, I felt there would've been more to it than just wanting to exist. Even if the mother was merely as a soul.

The people surrounding me were just as perplexed as I was, letting their jaws drop wide in bewilderment as I hastily pursued the brown shine, which still seemed to be emitting a dim light; a dull throb that really could go unnoticed.

For the first time, in quite a few centuries, a soul had left my grip. Even in the most unlikely of scenarios, there would be initial struggle - the hesitation to leave the body - but they would end up in my grip, nevertheless.

It was unacceptable, a sort of disgrace to myself, but I could not say no to a mother's love. It would definitely be stronger than any other force that existed.

But there wasn't much to worry about. After all, the soul couldn't survive long without a material body. I was bound to get it into my control. Sooner or later. I'd simply have to wait and see what occurred till then.

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"Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it."

-Haruki Murakami

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