Love Sucks (Rewritten!)

The Gilded Ballroom

When the driver pulled up to the parted iron gates of Drake Manor, the winding road leading up to the main house was congested by vehicles all depositing masked guests in exquisite evening wear. She tried to keep track of all the different colors, shimmering golds, midnight blues, deep greens, but found it moot on account of how many people were flooding towards the front doors.

The estate itself was flushed with the greenest grass she had ever seen, red roses sprouted from the flower beds, and massive bushes swelled up around the side of the edifice like well-manicured bubbles. A paved path led to rows of escalating marble steps with small rounded trees growing on either side. It was hard to get a better view of the mansion through the tinted windows of the car and the sheer volume of guests fluffing around in their masks and finery.

"You can let me out here, Charlie," Abigail said to the driver as they reached the u-shaped end of the road. She was eager to join Margot, although a few minutes late, knowing that somewhere inside her friend had already located the champagne. Charlie did as she requested, easing to a stop just ahead of the path to the front of the house, and turned in his seat to give her an uneasy glance.

"Be safe, miss. I know of this party and its happenings and they don't let drivers stay on the grounds until everything is said and done. Just keep your wits about you, okay?"

Abigail waved him off as she opened her door, smiling broadly to ease his concern. "Don't worry about me, Charlie. I'm a big girl. I'll get a ride home with Margot tonight."

She let the door shut behind her, the skirts of her mother's dress swishing at the movement, and the sleek black car blended into the night as it drove away. Abigail turned to face the path once again. She could see now just how magnificent and large Drake Manor was. It was bone white, marbled columns erecting from the covered porch, huge windows with ornate finishings lining each story, and a sprawling layout that stretched on either side as far as the eye could see. 

Feeling a bit breathless at the sheer magnitude of it, Abigail followed the wake of the other guests up the marble steps. She was directed to a pair of wooden doors with intricate designs carved in the grain. On either side of each grand door stood a pair of firmly straight footmen that sported greasy slicked-back hair and matching tuxedos. They were taking invitations into their white gloved hands. She watched from behind as their glassy eyes slid over the guests like a feral animal. Approaching the doorway, she handed one of them the thick invitation, ignoring the shudder-inducing smirk he gave her, and followed the rest of the crowd through the double-doors and into the manor beyond.

Abigail was struck by a warm, buttery light that extended past the foyer of gilded walls and tufted furniture. A hallway illuminated the way toward the ballroom, she could hear the long, elongated notes of violin and distant chatter lilting softly from further away, and continued to move forward with the others. She felt her footsteps slacken, her neck craning to admire the grand staircase that wrapped around either side of the hallway. Its splendor was accentuated by the aureate walls, wrapped in gold, and the chandeliers that hung like icicles of glass on the tall, curved ceiling. It truly was the most magnificent thing she had ever seen. Lining the hallway towards the ballroom were ornately-framed portraits of beautiful faces. Blonde hair, blue eyes fringed with dark lashes, a family that must have gone back centuries.

She would have loved to hear a history of all the generations of Drakes that had walked the same hallway she currently did; how much had changed?

The music intensified as she reached the end of the hall. The ballroom greeted her with open arms. It was gold like the rest of the house, floors polished and veined, the dance floor already swirling with men and women, half of their faces veiled by masks. Underneath the wall of windows to the left, a table draped in rich silk featured an endless bounty of finger foods: cucumber sandwiches, fruit arranged in the shape of flowers, other d'oeuvres on baguette topped with smoked salmon. She could see a few waiters flaunting trays of champagne flutes as they slipped through gaps in the crowd.