The wind whistled gently in the night's breeze. Her dark, onyx hair glistened in the dim glow of the moon that was proudly beaming up above without a misty cloud in sight to try conceal the rays of light that shone dully on the world.
The ambience was quiet and dark, shadows danced in sequence as the wind rippled through weak trees and bushes… but why should this threaten her?
Eyes closed to focus all concentration; steadying her mind… she drew the blade from the sheath that was strung on her back. The sword glistened sparkles of reflected light, as the clean weapon in perfectly good condition was released from it's encasing; ready to dirty itself and serve it's purpose to it's mistress.
Gripping the katana with one strong hand, she raised her arm above her head and opened her piercing dark eyes to stare down at her target. The victim.
Waiting. Watching. Searching.
Found.
Time to terminate.
The body in front of her started to whimper as they awoke to drown in deep, unforgiving eyes. Blood streaming down the unidentifiable face of a guilty soul that must be replenished to the gods.
They may say they are sorry, but they are out of time.
Truth. Lies. What's real… what's not? What to trust? Not you.
Blink.
Everything was a blur. She grabbed the back of the victim's hair and pulled his head back to expose the flesh to the light quickly. With one single, swift action, a coup de grace was performed and everything was over. Blood had spurted ferociously and sprayed over the ground… almost as if it was the earth that was bleeding… The damage was enough to put all hatred into one simple movement which had now ended this man's life forever and always. The Thyroid cartilage was obscured as the deep gash leaked dark crimson ferociously downwards; smothering the torso in glittering red. The small anterior jugular vein was free from the usual stretch it had to endure; and now rested limply enjoying the commence of eternal sleep.
Tomorrow promises no one.
Nothing personal. Assassination… a. different end of the spectrum in which to channel and execute all anger and hate into those who deserve it in a ritualistic manner.
The wind had died as death arose to silence the living; claiming his prize. No more begging. No more pleading. No more screaming. Crimson regret was not hers to be filled. Salvation must return. Yet… she is guaranteed to die… no matter how much she may pray… Christ… her silver soul will be in the right place – where she deserves. Hell. So what is the point in making amends for what will be repented? Her sins are cut too deep to heal.
Until then, the arts and secrets of murder will be learnt and acknowledged. Increasing skill and confidence every time. Haunting 'sacrifices' will shock these foolish humans into not doing such things they will surely repent!
Homosapiens will learn.
