A woman stood in front of a huge clock bell at the moon rose in the sky. Her face hidden behind a black mask that only showed her eyes and her body was covered in black clothing that fitted her frame perfectly. In her gloved hands was a silvery board and around her wrist was a bracelet. Her body muscles where coiled like springs and were ready to strike or let lose. Only a hidden smiled was on her face and she waited for the clock to strike eight. When it did, she leap off the ledge she was on, she allowled herself freefall several stories before using the boad that quickly went dead. Her friend forgotted to charge it.
"Dang it!" She screammed doing something she hoped she didn't have to do. The woman relaxed her back, and allowed two hidden wings to spread out and take flight. She opened her eyes flying through a musuem window, shattering it without gaining it any cuts. "It is mine." She spoke grabbing a painting with eight guards following her. The Angel has struck.
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A teenage writer! Or at least a wanna be anyways.
The truth is I want to be a writer! I love writing, and I am somehow very good at is. Wierd isn't it, well it is for me. But I'll be glad to write something. Only one warning, it can, and will, take a while.
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