• Dreary, washed-out beach

• Rocky cliff jutting out over violent, crashing waves

• Sick, unwell looking water and sky

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• Story is from the perspective of someone that has experienced trauma from a war, and is thinking of and replaying the events that happened on the cliff not too far from them. They are taking in their surroundings and immersing themselves in the memories of their past.

You could describe them together as one single soul, dancing gracefully along the shining flooring. The way in which they spun across the floor together, and how every time they moved it felt so right, as if they were connected. The crowd would erupt in a chorus of 'ooh' and 'aahs' every time the woman would spin and be spun, as she would erupt into tornado of vibrant colours, and then neatly arrive back into his arms. Despite this, her hair remained gushing and glowing, not a single hair left astray and bewildered.

What the hell is going on? She asked herself mentally, as if she'd have the answers.

Her trembling arms immediately swung out at her sides, smashing hard against the concrete-hard wall. The room was stuffy and suffocating, the heavy, wet air enfolding Harvey in a humid embrace. She slowly sat up from her spot on the floor, widening her eyes to improve her vision, but the pitch blackness of the room didn't lighten. She felt blind and helpless.

With each breath she took came out a hoarse, croaking sound, unfamiliar to her own. Her throat was that dry, nothing she said sounded like her anymore.

"Wh-what IS THIS?" she screamed, the strange voice echoing out of her mouth and across the confining walls of her newfound environment. Nothing answered or moved.

The air in the room felt dense. With a stuffy, dirty smell, even if you were blindfolded, you could tell the environment surrounding was decades old.

She was a tight-fisted, cute, red-wine drinker with tall moles and strong eyes. Her friends saw her as a huge, hilarious hero. Once, she had even jumped into a river and saved a rare old lady. That's the sort of woman he was.

Kirah walked over to the window and reflected on her urban surroundings. The moon shone like rampaging owls.

Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Ricki Hannings. Ricki was a smart villainous with blonde moles and charming eyes.

Kirah gulped. She was not prepared for Ricki.

As Kirah stepped outside and Ricki came closer, she could see the slobbering glint in his eye.

"I am here because I want revenge," Ricki bellowed, in an articulate tone. He slammed his fist against Kirah's chest, with the force of 5313 mice. "I frigging hate you, Kirah Alvatore."

Kirah looked back, even more angry and still fingering the ripped blade. "Ricki, hands up or I'll shoot," she replied.

They looked at each other with tense feelings, like two putrid, powerful pigeons running at a very tactless accident, which had classical music playing in the background and two intelligent uncles thinking to the beat.

Suddenly, Ricki lunged forward and tried to punch Kirah in the face. Quickly, Kirah grabbed the ripped blade and brought it down on Ricki's skull.

Ricki's blonde moles trembled and his charming eyes wobbled. He looked revenge-ridden, his body raw like a gigantic, greasy gun.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Ricki Hannings was dead.

Kirah Alvatore went back inside and made herself a nice drink of red-wine.

Not a soul flinched at this ridiculous hour of morning, apart from Kirah Alvatore. She glided throughout the eerie streets and alleyways in silence, morphing with the shadows. She moved like that of a graceful dancer, slipping around the corners and bends, her long and luscious black hair waving around below her silver, gem-studded mask.

Once the golden glow of the Aimee tunnel had appeared into view around the back of the barber, Kirah slipped off her silver mask and shoved it in the leather satchel hung over her shoulder. She began to strode towards it's centre, the honey-coloured ceiling lights of the tunnel flickering ominously, giving Kirah's shadow a lagged appearance along the grey, stained walls.

She seemed to move as one with the breeze, her long, pale arms extended gracefully by her sides, meandering among the air around her with great ease. Every single move she made was flawless, it was simply magical.

I watched in awe as she spun around once more, ending the piece with a light curtsy.

Her soft blue eyes met mine once more.

I burst into an explosion of applause, a large smile forming across my face as she found her way to the spot beside me, grasping her pink shiny water bottle from my hands. A soft chuckle left her mouth in response as she began to quench her thirst.

"That was amazing Louise!" I praised, joyfully. The corners of her lips turned up slightly at their corners as she replied.

"Thank you."

Slowly, like a spider crawling out of it's burrow, his face emerged from the darkness, lit up by the flickering yellow lights that lined the Aimee tunnel. His face was a chiselled, refined shape, his skin spotless and pale, like that of a vampire. Flawlessly perfect.

His mouth curled up in a smirk at my appearance, and I could feel the resent rising up like a bonfire within me as his intimidating figure came fully into view.

I gripped my leather satchel that hung over my shoulder so tightly, I could feel my nails digging into the material.

"It's been quite a while Alvatore, hasn't it?" He sneered, staring into my eyes cunningly, as if they were searching my soul. I resisted the tempting urge to take a swing at his infuriatingly flawless face as I replied impatiently.

"What the hell are you doing here Ricky?"

"The offer still stands." He said. "I want to ensure you are certain in your decision."

I could feel the pulse of my heart increasing, the fury inside of me bubbling and frothing. I was practically trembling now.

"You've gotta be seriously stupid Ricky- to think I'd ever take up your ridiculous offer. You know that right? Or is your skull too thick?"

I knew I had done something, once I saw his pupils widen and his devious smile fade away.

(Cash)

"Hey" someone yells I duck down, what do you want? "Are you okay miss?" he says. I don't reply I don't see the point to reply. I'm in too much pain the cut is too deep to heal. I rip off a small bit of my dress and tied it around my wound trying to limp away I hear whispers of people talking, the voice sounds familiar. It's the same person that did this to me. I go as fast as I could but then I trip over a small stone falling in to a bigger one right on my wound I try not to scream but this is the most painful thing ever I have ever felt, (Reuben) so I screamed.

I felt as if my throat were about to burst, as the scream continued in a long, loud, ear-wrenching sound that made me feel as if my eardrums were about to burst, just like my vocal cords. My heart began to race, my breath grew heavy as panic rose within me, making sweat drip down my face.

I crawled away, the sound of the man who did this to me, growing ever closer. This made fear grow within me; 'What the hell? Why is this bastard following me? What did I do to deserve such a fate?' the thought rang in my mind, the question was unsolvable, something that I couldn't figure out for the life of me.

I had somehow managed to leave the house, only to be met with... no, why would he come after me? I had already escaped him years ago, and yet now he's back? We came to an agreement, we swore to never speak to each other again!

(Winter) The anger in me slowly started to over take me as I heard his footsteps grow closer. I look up. (Jeez i must look like a whimpering idiot). Only to be met with the stabbing stare of his fierce revenge seeking eyes...