The Ghost Witch of the Desert

In the darkness of night, a haunting, reddish-orange moon slowly creeps up into the sky as a whisper of gray smoke slithers up through the rocky, dry soil covering a make shift grave, growing as it rises, slowly taking form. Long fingernails curving downward, looking more like claws than fingernails, rise up out of the grave as her midnight black hair glistens in the moonlight, her arms and hands spreading outward, pushing her upward. Her skin now pale with a grayish tint, rotting and sunken in around her neck, cheeks and eye sockets, pulls tightly against her skull, emphasizing its bony structure and looking more like a skull than a face. The cut on her lower jaw and chin ripped open, exposing her jawbone, the grave taking its toll. Rising up, the gold colored dress with black lace now fully visible, she raises her hands towards the full moon, an eerie, moaning sound filling the night as tears of blood drip down from dark, black holes where her eyes once were.Softly touching her face, standing above the arroyo where her body is buried, she realizes this is where it happened, right on this spot. In flashes, she sees him hitting her, tastes the blood in her mouth and feels him ripping her eyes from her skull, as her world turns dark.