Something a bit whimsical.
The hall was closed due to damage, but it was dark and cool and most importantly empty. Perfect for a bit of dancing, my top lay across a table so that I could feel the breeze on my skin. The lack of music wasn't a problem, I had the night and a blade to dance with.
Swaying gently in the breeze I moved softly the faint light gleaming of the smooth slender curve of the knife, as it stroked across my arm, just brushing gently before leading me spinning across the floor. The tip of the blade tracing the path we were to follow, twisting and turning across the empty spaces of the hall. Ever and again the knife swept back across me, brushing sometimes an arm or across my torso. When the dance slowed it's coldness would slide across my throat tracing the curves of my neck, urging me to spin again across the floor. Making the silver in my hand flicker and gleam in the light only half visible to my eyes leading me to a point where we were one thing. With no thought but to revel in the night around us reaching up to and around to a non existence audience.
Lost to the mood of the knife, it stroked teasing a thing line of red from an arm as the edge slid across paths, that the point had merely hinted at before. A tracery of light scores followed it as it charted on my flesh the tempo of the dance it followed in the air, the cold metal gradually taking the warmth I had to give it. Then as though sated, an end was marked enough was done, the audience not present was perhaps satisfied as I dipped forward knife clasped to me a bow to the night breeze. Resting at last knife held soft towards the floor arms wide the air caressing the pattern the dance had left.
