The Depiction

TIRING and nerve-racking, Aracelli’s chest was pounding up and down as she take a rest. Both hands are placed on her both knee, making it support. She hasn’t got enough slumber, again, and yet, here she is, doing some routine on her own this daybreak.

“I can do this,” she kept on murmuring as sweat made its way to her cheeks from her forehead. “I can do this,” she repeated. Picking the swords up, she made her stance and shut her eyes. “Keep yourself alert. You need to protect yourself from now on, Aracelli. Don’t let yourself get in trouble again just like what happened in the past.” She said those words to herself, making her feel proud. She continues the drill until her dark past chases her.

The place was haunted, from the little girl’s standpoint. Terrified as she was, the fugitive guffawed like a mad wicked witch that you can see in films. Quivering in distress, she moved closer to the wall, greeting the cold surface. Shattered glass was on the floor’s ca