A lonely Night

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The moon, was high in the sky and the morning light was far off as right now it was the dead of night, A girl with black hair pulsing in front of her pale white, and seem less , hair moving and flowing in waves, rolling up and down, with each gust that would whip it back up. Her eyes only partially opened of course still even under her heavy lidded eyelash covered stare she was able to discern even in the faint moonlight, the difference between the desolate sands, and mobile otherwise living, or at least the semblance of living objects. The sands void of life, had been silent for so long, and this girl seemed to be the ghost that was from ages past, walking across the sands not making a sound. Hair swaying from side to side the sand rising up in puffs around her foot-steps the indent of her footprint being blown away by the wind as she walked on, the moon and the stars lighting up the night, yet making her look just like a ghost a phantom or illusion something that was hidden within the darker secrets of time, secrets better left alone.

Her heel hitting the sand rolling from heel to toe, and walking forward matching the flickering pattern of the shadows on the moonlit night, not perhaps drawing attention to herself but instead making her almost vanish and blend into the scenery, eerie and creepy that was the only way to explain the vibe that was present, yet right now the way she walked the way that her body moved, rigid and without much emphasis on either grace or power, you could consider that it was like a predator, one of the night stalking its pray looking forward to that next meal, and lusting for the finished product. Even though the fact was that this girl was not making any sound, she seemed to be concentrating on something, a lone hollow that had been wandering the sands for some time now, looking for prey as well, but for now had stopped for some reason or another restlessly pacing back and forth on the sands, looking at the moon. So the girl. . . Arabella had begun creeping up to the hollow, her footsteps shifting to not bring alarm or immediate notice to her position, getting closer and closer to the intended target.

Until finally heel stamping onto the ground and smacking firmly onto the flat of her foot, with her whole body leaning forward and kicking off. Going into a head long sprint, feet blurring from inhuman speed and accuracy the fingers on her right hand curling around the sheath of the katana that had been resting on her hip, pulling forward and bringing the sheath (sword still in it) in a horizontal swing, which ended when her left palm smacked firmly against the pommel of her katana, thrusting the sheath forward in a jab connecting squarely with the hollows mask. Quick force and immense trauma, both contributed and ultimately led to the hollows mask and head, bursting apart, a clean hole having been punched out of the epicenter of the hollows Head, blood and brain tissue splattering across the ground, Arabella then lowered her blade , which was still in its sheath, leaving the end lax inches above the ground, her stance still of a swordsman’s , yet more relaxed, her senses more than her eyes, but her nose, ears touch taste and eyes together probing the flat seem-less landscape, as if trying to discern if anything else ultimately, lurked beneath its depths. And so she said, her voice echoing with its lovely tones.

“..What a lovely night we have here. “