_Everyday the crows stare _

They watch as the wind whips her hair

Everyday the rats gaze

Watching, silent, through the haze

__

Though wherever she goes it is grim,

Everyday she thinks only of him.

Her old shoes slam against the cobble as she runs, scattering the crows and rats. The bells ring, signalling the end of a day. But still she sprints through the deserted street. Her slim frame cuts through the wind faster than anyone would think. She passes by the ripped flag, hanging limp despite the strong wind. A group of rats feasting on a pizza pause and stare as she passes by, tears streaming down her face.

Her feet splash into a puddle of murky water, adding itself to the mud embedded on her old grey shorts, so close. She continues running even when she feels the familiar sense of dread that follows the reapers. They grab her shaky shoulders, she kicks out at them, screaming and crying as she watches the gate disappear. She falls to her knees and screams, a sound of pure agony as they continue to drag her along. Numb to her pain.

But today is different. Today is his birthday. She has to get out. She bites and kicks like a rabid animal. She bites one of the reapers boney hands, she kicks at their shins, she aims her next kick carefully, and hits true. She hears a grunt. She hears a grunt! She hears a reaction. So she kicks again, once again at his crotch. Another hit. He grunts, but nothing more. The clock inches closer to midnight. His birthdays almost up.

She twists her arms out of their grip, overcome by rage and adrenaline. She runs through one of the alleyways, a large rock sits at the side of a building, she throws it at a nearby pane of glass, by the side of the road, it shatters and she picks up the largest shard. It cuts into her hand but the adrenaline stops the pain. When the reapers come for her she slashes through one of their robes, exposing the vulnerable white skin, taut over their bones. She stabs and brings out the shard of glass. He turns to dust and floats into the wind. Keeping her face to the other reapers, she reaches down towards the rock. Her hand comes up covered in blood, but holding it. She throws it at the closest reaper. And keeping hold of the glass she runs. Not bothering to turn her head. She runs through the alleyway. The bell tower comes out of the mist, her heart soars. She runs underneath the bell, and pauses, she knows shes safe. They can’t reach her here.

The crows live, in this hell,

They watch the woman beneath the bell.

The rats gaze, as they stand tall,

And watch the bell begin to fall.

__

Even though the future looks grim

Still, she thinks only of him.