A short, 200 word, story that I wrote a while ago.

The snowy ground gave way as the shovel ploughed through it as if the snow were cake on a little kid’s birthday getting devoured as it crumbled to pieces. “No not here” the man said through gritted teeth. He walked further away from the newly red tinted trees. His shovel trailed behind him creating a streak of insanity that followed at his heel. The world was so quiet at that moment almost as if the world had been murdered and had fallen lifeless. As steel shovel hit secretive snow the man’s breath slowed. He stared into the unholy pit he had dug. He didn’t know why or what he was doing but he fell to his knees and pulled a rustic box out of the snow. Opening the box the man pulled the old-fashioned shotgun out, admiring his reward. Sirens blared in the close distance as red tinted trees got flushed in blue light. The man did not seem to notice as he stared at his new weapon saying “Hello, my name is Tim, I think we’re going to be great friends”. Upon red tinted trees, blue covered enforcers and faltering snow, the new-born sinner walked into the unknown fog.