It's dark, the sun shrouded by mists of differing shades of silver, beginning it's descent below the skyline comprised of the graceful dips and harsh spires of the various architectural masterpieces making up the city. The deepening dusk serves only to provide shadows for the demonic spirits of the late night to hide in, manifesting their presence prematurely. Drips fall from window ledges and door knobs, shaking off their unwanted coats of moisture acquired during the recent, but short lived, deluge.
Alleys become dwellings once again in the nearing nightfall, even those without homes of their own not desiring to be exposed after the deceptive safety daylight brings has all but vanished. Every alley, that is, save one.
No one dares enter this place tonight. Outward appearances deceive, the place looking as any other alley, but only the truly ignorant of this evening, the ones who refuse to listen to idle chatter or heartfelt advice are unaware of the ghost possessing this place.
Far in the back, not exactly hidden, not quite public, made modest by the shadows of the buildings as they lean ever so slightly together, lies a young woman.
The air, thick with the sympathetic cries of the stones beneath her, is sticky with the metallic scent of blood laced through with something far sweeter. Her face, irrationally peaceful, wears the waxy pallor trademarked by the passed. Coils of dusty brown hair fan out around her head in a dark sort of halo.
She lies without so much as a strand or fibre out of place. Her hands are folded over her stomach, resting gently on the white satin dress that adorns her slender figure. Her nails are freshly painted in the dark hue of congealed blood. Her feet are bare, the toenails matching her finger's. Diamonds sparkle on her ears and her lips are coated in rich plum.
Her necklace consists of pink and yellow; exposed flesh and raw tendons. Thickened crimson fills the smooth etches of where the knife was forcefully pulled through each muscle in turn. Despite the gruesome wound, she is immaculately clean, even to the point of obsession.
And, between her teeth, the signature of an artist. Curving gently through the arches of her lips rests a single pure white iris.
