Posted in Writing

The Lonely Dance

“See? Look at her.”

They both leaned into the darkened ballroom doorway and King Jonathon sighed. “This is the third time this week.” His eyebrows scrunched up with worry.

Queen Angela frowned with concern as she gazed at their daughter Sierra dancing in the middle of the room. Only the moonlight through the tall windows highlighted her carefully positioned hands and her swaying nightgown as she gracefully twirled and spun. Sierra smiled and let out a tinkling laugh as she conversed with empty air that seemed to carry her across the vacant dance floor.

“Perhaps she is just practicing?” Jonathon suggested.

Angela pointed at their daughter who skillfully moved across the shadows. “It doesn’t seem right. She dances for hours like this… alone. Whenever I bring it up, she denies even the thought of it.”

A twelve-year-old boy poked his head in between his parents’ arms. “Sierra’s gone mad, just like Aunt Ella.”

“Terry! Don’t speak so lightly about your aunt.” Angela said harshly, her eyes on the verge of brimming at the thought of her sister.

Terry whined in exasperation. “You’ve got to believe me, mother. I hear Sierra talking to herself all the time in her room and I always see her by the Bridge.” The Bridge was the gateway to the mysterious graveyard out in the gardens. Not even Jonathon’s grandfather knew whose graves they were, but they sat there hidden by the trees and burbling creek.

Angela gasped and looked at her husband. “Jonathon, that’s exactly what happened to my Ella before… before she…” She began to cry into her husband’s shoulder.

 

Meanwhile, Sierra smiled into her partner’s eyes. He was funny and handsome, his cool touch on her back sent shivers through her spine. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, even when she wanted to. He said he was from a different time period and that long ago he lived at the palace.

They all said that they lived here. She looked around at the crowd of pale figures dancing around her. Only she could see them, not even Terry noticed how they wandered the halls and dungeon. More and more they came to take her dancing. She loved the midnight balls they’d put on for her, but once in a while as they danced with Sierra, their lovely appearances would flicker; for just a moment out of a hundred, tattered cloth, scarlet blood, and dead eyes would replace their features.

And that scared Sierra more than anything.

 

HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Hope you enjoyed this and have a great day. 🙂

-Charlotte Emelia

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Author:

I love to create stories and find adventure out of daily, boring things. There are stories everywhere, you just have to look.

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