Obsidian Women

The moon was high in the sky, casting a pale glow over the city streets.

As I made my way through the alleyways, I spotted a group of women huddled together, their faces painted black as coal. They were dressed in extravagant outfits, the kind you'd expect to see on a fashion runway. But there was something strange about them, something eerie. One of them, the leader, stepped forward and looked directly at me. Her black face was painted with a fierce expression, and her eyes bore into mine with a piercing intensity. I felt a shiver run down my spine.

Without a word, she gestured for me to follow her. I hesitated for a moment, but my curiosity got the better of me. I trailed behind her and the other women as they weaved their way through the darkened streets, their black faces standing out starkly against the pale moonlight.

Finally, we arrived at an abandoned warehouse. The women led me inside and up a flight of stairs to a room filled with mirrors. They motioned for me to stand in the center of the room. I did as I was told, and suddenly, the women began to dance around me. Their movements were wild and erratic, their black faces contorting with emotion. I watched in awe as they moved, their bodies writhing and twisting with abandon.

As they danced, I noticed something strange happening in the mirrors. The reflections of the women seemed to be multiplying, stretching out and twisting in impossible ways. It was as if their movements were creating an entirely new world within the confines of the mirrors. I stood there for what felt like hours, mesmerized by the strange, surreal dance unfolding before me. When it was over, the women filed out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

As I made my way back through the streets, the image of the women with their black faces burned into my mind. It was a haunting, otherworldly experience, one that I would never forget.