And their was snow, years of it, piled up in oozing mounds that collected sharply like fat banks of money.
"Hello?", he shivered in the gruesome cold, "Where the hell am I"
That's when he saw the penguins, dead birds, leopard seals, and total emptiness of human existence and the void of existence and realized that he was in
Antarctica.
"Hello"
He turned around, and saw a penguin. It was not talking, baring a smile, as it twiddled along, flapping elongated flippers in awkward motions.
"Hello"
He turned around again and saw frosted snow cover the ground, caking it with the freshness of dirty, light weakness in the calm perverted sense of the world.
"Hello"
That word echoed throughout his mind, into his mind, where it penetrated the secrets and brought out the deepest remembrances of his mind past. Strange creatures, the gruesome storm, and he had forgotten it all. He looked upon the tattered rags, saw the symbol with a randomness of letters in tawdry formation.
"Hello"
Their was a voice somewhere, and he had reached back to the penguin, as it flapped along, trying to unsuccessfully fly.
The reaper looked upon him with the deadly eyes of metaphysical calm. Rage passed through him, then depression, and finally, as every bone was picked out of his body and every inch of blood seeped out of him, he realized that it was he that was death.
He was the destroyer, he was the man who had killed the past. The reaper was a sign, and he was the prey of the destroyer. And, like Ouroboros, he collapsed in frightful death, gone in cold and underneath the latter parts of the penguin.
