• "The Red Rider"


    She creates pandemonium wherever she goes,
    Sometimes for the better. But the cost always for the bad.

    Feeding and stoking the flames of anyone’s passion. Warping it beyond what it stood for.

    She is chaotic, unpredictable; and humanity was always poor at preventing her.

    Her garb is extravagant; sometimes rags, sometimes riches.
    Whatever infuriates the eye.

    There is nothing swanky about her wake, her heeled-shoes kicking dirt in the eyes of all.
    And she sticks her tongue out, flips up her middle finger.
    She slings profanity, racial slurs; she is angry at the world.
    And wants to take it down with her.

    A hellion dressed in red, ready to party hard and leave destruction in her wake.
    Foxy lady, pretty lady. It’s hard to resist her when she winks so nicely.
    A minor scuffle, a petty squabble—she puts the gun in one’s hand and lets them enact their desires.

    It’s crazy, all that madness over one woman. The Lady in Red. Red hair, red eyes.
    Red nails, red clothes; red blood on her hands, and anger in her stiff bearing.
    A sharp mind, luminous in her manner and her purpose.

    She knows who she is. And everyone else does too.

    She is a rider of the Apocalypse. She is WAR.