Death  holds his victim in a firm grasp.

"Don't let him go." The strange being whispers to himself as his prey struggles.

Thoughts flying into the demons head.

"What happened? Why am I here? Let me go!" Demented screams come from all around him.

Ignoring the screams, he threw the man into his cloak, sending him far far away.

"Where does this 'Death' come from?" everyone asks.

They all imagine a place.

They all imagine what it feels like to have his hand on you.

Watching over you.

No one knows the answer.

Lonely,

Quiet,

Dark,

Cold,

and Black.

He smiles at his work.

The crippled hand slips into his sleeve.

Awaiting his next victim, he travels under the light of the darkness.

He slipped through shadows.

This is how he lives his life.

He didn't choose it.

It was his destiny.

No one to take over.

No one to love.

Every one to die.