Snow

Pure white snow

Tainted with scarlet petals

Flowers of blood

Blossoming

Broken

Bent, broken and breathless

A puppet with its strings

slashed cruelly

Lies forlorn

Empty

Drained of life

Stolen mercilessly

With a flash

Of silver

Stolen

The theft of a soul

An inexcusable act

Of judgement

Scenery

A picture of peace

But a soul

Forever

Wandering

Reginald Columbus smiled at the gloomy autumn mist, a forgotten friend reappearing in the cool weather.

There was always something to be hopeful for.

Reginald slowly made his way to work. A quick glance at the timepiece on his wrist confirmed his contentment. There was plenty of time.

Fall was his favourite time of the year. Red and orange decorated the pavement, confetti symbolising the end of summer. Light rain blanketed the streets, creating a comfortable presence.

Breathing in the brisk morning air, he let a smile escape. He was free.

There was so much opportunity in a city as big as Oklahoma. The future burned brighter.

His smile lit up the street ahead as he filled himself with optimism.

Closed eyes saw a future full of freedom, a motionless body stopped to feel the fast moving world.

Looking at his watch, the needle thin hands pointed accusingly.

He was late for work.

There was no time for dreams in a city as big as this.

Shifting gears, he started to jog to his workplace, three blocks away. He would be pressed for time.

His steps slowed as they sung a rhythm with his watch. Reginald glanced around indecisively. He was at a crossroads, two paths lay before him.

He could take a shortcut through the back alleys, but it was not a good place to be in Oklahoma City. However, the main streets would take a while to maneuver, and he needed the extra time that the back streets would give him. The watch ticked louder.

Decision made, he slipped sideways into the risky territory of vicious gang wars and unquestioned deaths. Here, power decided whose time was up.

Dark, damp walls closed him in, towering and ominous. Newspapers were scattered carelessly, remnants of a past long since discarded. He dodged stray puddles and cautiously peeked around the corner of Keith Drive.

Seemingly clear, he prepared himself to venture onwards. The gang turf appeared unmonitored.

Reginald slipped around the corner unhindered.

Until a hand grabbed his blue hoodie and roughly dragged him back.

With a shout of protest, Reggie found himself facing three predators. Eyes were as hard as flint and faces scarred grotesquely. Glares cut through his skin and turned his heart to shreds. There would be no mercy.

Sneering, the leader gripped his jersey tighter and spat menacingly, ‘What have we here? A little lamb, wandered into the lion's den.’

More like a wolf’s den, Reggie thought. A pack of wolves ready to tear him apart on a whim, just for the fun of it. A bored wolf was a dangerous one.

‘I feel like some roast lamb tonight. How about you boys?’

Snarls and cutting grins of agreement. Rough hands grabbed his wrist, devouring the sight of the expensive watch.

No! They couldn’t take his watch. He needed it. Needed the time.

They couldn’t take his time.

Fear rose up in Reginald, freezing his blood and quickening his heart. Like ice around his limbs and lungs, fear left him helpless and numb.

He prayed the wolves couldn’t hear his heartbeat. As loud as his watch, they tolled in synchrony, counting down the seconds.

Reggie’s hoodie still held tight, a deer caught in a trap. His terrified face reflected back at him in the gleaming metal that appeared.

‘I think I’ll play the role of butcher today.’

The pack leader delicately placed the knife in between his teeth and blew on his knuckles.

Those same knuckles came flying at his face a few seconds later, and contacted. Hard. Head ringing like a bell, the world spun around him. He spat out red liquid.

Trying to regain his balance and see clearly, Reggie held himself against the wall. His vision cleared long enough to see a flash of silver. A moment later his face burned. Blood dripped down his cheek, crimson tears that mourned his pain.

More cuts appeared, his hoodie had already turned that awful colour. Another knock to his head pushed him against the wall.

How dare they? What right did they have? Why was their territory worth more than his life? How dare th-

He was on the ground now. Vicious kicks landed on his back, his ribs, his face. Red gleamed on the ground. It was so bright, so essential, and yet these wolves were stealing it. His watch ticked. How many seconds did he have left? What power did he have left?

Power. He must take it back.

Reality returned in a dancing haze of light and shadows. Red ran through his veins, fire lit his mind and burnt his heart. It hurt. He needed more, an uncomparable drug.

He grabbed at the silver that came down, pulling it closer. He stared into the look of surprise on the alpha wolf’s face. Clearly, nobody had ever challenged his power before. Blood dripped down his fingers, the knife cutting to the bone. Reggie didn’t care. The fire in his soul burnt hotter.

The knife was his now. So was the power.

Rising up, the fire in Reginald’s eyes burnt away the ice in the gang leaders. He stepped forward and began painting. Slash, stab, cut, every move loosed more of that beautiful red, decorating him with what had been stolen only moments before.

Fire raced through him, clouded his thoughts and aided him strength. And yet the burns left scars on his soul.

The flames then died, leaving him cold and breathless.

Gaining clarity, he looked around. Soulless sockets stared back. The wolf was gone, leaving behind bloody ribbons and an empty shell. Sirens approached.

Followers scattered, fleeing the predatory lamb. Reginald slid down the wall, not hearing the clatter of the knife as it left his hand.

That’s how they found him, the police. Sitting against the wall, painted red, staring at the decimated corpse of the former thief. The wolf had paid for his crimes. Then again, so would the lamb. The lamb had adorned himself with the pelt of the wolf. The only thing he could hear was his watch.

Ticking. Shouting. Screaming.

It counted down the seconds. Like a bomb ready to blow, his entire life had been a fuse. Ticking down to this moment. And there were no seconds left.