Upon a great hill many miles past the nearest village, there stands a gothic castle. Music pours from its open windows. Inside its walls, the air hangs heavy with the smell of perfume and wine. Candlelit chandeliers illuminate the dance of the damned. Beneath high ceilings, a vivid spectacle of expensive silks twirl in harmony. Each graceful movement of the masked phantoms bleed seamlessly into the next. A girl stands near a curtain draped in velvet. She wears a satin gown and her hair falls in loose curls around her face. She holds a glass of wine in her hand, not a single drop drank from her.
A warm, incandescent hue envelops the room. It is striking against the dancer’s pale skin, luminous as the moon above. She regards them curiously. The men, ever so dashing, lead their partners in the waltz. And the women, ever so elegant, smile sweetly. If she had been a more astute girl, perhaps she would have noticed blood stained collars on the men’s shirts, or the fangs in the women’s smiles. But alas, she was not.
Among the figures, one stands apart from the rest. A masked man, tall with dark hair, dons a black suit, with the head of red rose tucked in his chest pocket. He stares at the girl intently. His cat-like eyes are so dark that they are almost black. She tries to ignore his gaze, yet she fails to tear her eyes from his. Instead she stands there, frozen in place, unencumbered by any gaze apart from his. In slow careful steps, he approached her. It is only when the music stops and the waltz breaks, that he stands before her; his face inches from her own.
A deep, passionate voice beckons her. “Come.” is all he states
Entranced by the mystery man, she listens. He offers his arm and she takes it instantly; her heart races as he leads her to the window, overlooking the moonlight garden.
“Tell me, what business does a saint have among sinners?”
“What?” she utters, confused.
“Disregard me, I am only thinking out loud.” the man insists in a rushed manner. “The moon is beautiful, is it not?” he inquires, changing the subject.
The girl nods in agreement. She’s not entirely sure what to make of the confusing man. He notices her anxiousness. At once, a strange feeling floodsher, and for some reason, she now feels a sense of familiarity in his presence. Her heartbeat slows.
“Have we been acquainted before, sir?” she asks.
“I do not believe so my lady, for I would have remembered a beauty such as you.””You are very kind, sir.” she answers bashfully.
She looks down, blood rushing to her cheeks at the flattery The man’s eyes glint eagerly. Moments later, the quartet begins a new waltz, this time accompanied by the distinct dark sound of an organ.
“Would you care to dance?” he offers.
“The hour is very late.”
“Indeed it is, but why must that matter? Do you plan on going till dawn without a dance?” he questions.
“No.”
“Then indulge in me.”
And so they dance, moving slowly to the haunting, melodious strums of the quartet. It doesn’t take long for their steps to sync with the pairs around them. The man’s hands are cold against the girl’s warm body, but it is of no bother. Splinters of light catch on the gems of the chandelier. A dazzling array of radiance befalls the ballroom. The quartet reaches a crescendo: each note played is more exaggerated and intense than the last. The girl drowns in the music — drowns in their dance, as helpless as a ship caught in a storm. Her worries melt away.
The man holds her close. Their frames resemble night and day in a tight embrace. His eyes continue to hold hers captive, glistening with enrapturing brilliance.
In her glamoured haze, she fails to notice her lone reflection, swaying in the mirror, companionless.
