Young Writers Society

”I'm sorry Soren, is flying over the city a crime now?" She sighed sarcastically.

“It is if you are planning something devious.” A male voice broke the silence.

Zillah turned. ”Uh uh, now can I go home or is that a crime too”

“Fine, but I’m watching you,” Soren replied shortly. His medium-length black hair waving in the slight breeze that emitted from her wings.

“How creepy,” She snorted

Soren rolled his eyes and flew away. Dark robes fluttering around him.

Zillah glanced back once again, the sun was now behind the skyscrapers. She pulled back her wings and shot forward, racing the sun.

The villainess resumed her favourite way to stand in her house, leaning on a pillar with her shoulder, And stared thoughtfully out the window.

The sunset cast the room in a variety of warm tones. She shifted, stretching her golden wings. They reflected a few golden beams onto the grey concrete floor.

She smiled and knelt. Moving her palm across the cold floor so rainbows laced her hand.

Her house, if you will, was an old army base built on the side of a cliff. She'd stripped most of it. Leaving it a cement structure. The semi-circle main room was where she now stood. It had giant bay windows in the flat part of the semicircle. Overlooking the entire city that the cliff sat a few miles away from. Around the rest of the semicircle were various doors, each leading to different rooms.

A series of cement pillars stood in a circle around the room, providing support. Everything was cement, the floor, the ceiling, the walls. Everything had a sort of industrial feel to it. Either from the cement structure or the randomly salvaged furniture and appliances.

Zillah watches the sun dip behind the city. The powerful glow of the sun reflecting sharply off the tall imposing skyscrapers. Contemplating ideas for attacks.

“Might as well continue this in the morning. A Little suspense never hurt anyone, well in it might.” she shrugged. Zillah wasn't one for hurting people. Giving them a taste of their own medicine sure, but no unneeded violence.

She swivelled right and walked through the fading shadows cast behind the pillars to a door. Squeezing her wings behind her. Then spread her arms and flopped down on the unmade queen bed. The one skinny rectangular window making the sun's last light to fall on her. Then the queen mattress sat on the floor. She’d nabbed it from a garage sale.

“Night, Mr sun,” she whispered as she closed her eyes.