Once Upon a Story [ SLOW UPDATES ]

Valse Macabre

I don't know what I had in mind when I wrote this (apart from my bad mood), so interpret it as you will.

Word count: 607
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You open your eyes to the unknown. You've never been here before. The walls are lavishly decorated in gold and rubies. You catch a few pearls and stones blacker than onyx sparkling above you.

Where am I? you wonder. You sit and slowly move over the bedside to stand. You flinch as your bare feet touch the cold ground.

Frigid.

To your left stands a bouquet. Roses with petals of crimsons and thorns sharp as fangs stand stall in a pot, wrapped around the center with a silk red bow. Curious, you reach for a flower only to retract your bleeding finger.

Pain.

Magically, the wound seals and the blood steams away. You open your mouth to comment, but no sound resonates from your lips. There is no shock. Oddly, the silence feels natural.

You carefully reach for a rose again and grasp the stem where no thorns are present. Plucked from its pot, the petals wilt and crumple to a crisp pile at your feet. Even the stem softens until it bends in your hand.

Sadness and longing for what once was.

At your right, a warm breeze sweeps inside the room. It's comforting heat entices you towards it. With a few steps, you push open the double doors. A man stands at its altar and unfurls his hand to you. He has no face, and his hand is bones with no flesh, but this brings you no unease or fear.

You grasp the distal digits and follow him to a large ballroom. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and lights spot the walls surrounding you. There's a lively atmosphere despite the lack of speech from those present.

Your mysterious partner walks you to the center and bows. His hand finds your waist, and yours settles on his shoulder. A waltz plays, and you elegantly dance around the room, spinning in circles. A few people spectate from the side, chatting occasionally. Your eyes drift to their bony faces and equally fleshless limbs.

But your attention is never on them for long. Your partner swivels you in another direction, and your eyes return to him. The dance continues, the music never stops, and the crowd grows till a small circle is formed around you.

There's still music, violins and a piano, strumming their strings in the background. No mouths are clattering, but there's a growing chatter in the room.

Everyone's attention is on you.

A morbid curiosity about how your dance will end.

It's pressing. You break into a cold sweat, your ears ring, and your head resonates with the clang of a headache. You find no respite, trying to catch your breath. There is no air. Nothing comes in or out of your chest.

You seek your partner for comfort, and your imminent discomfort fades. He firmly pulls your attention to him. Your empty breaths even out, your pain-consumed mind finds relief, the whistle in your ear fades to silence, and the void surrounding you fills with a presence.

What a lovely feeling, you think, falling into his arms like a chiffon doll. The world spins around you, fades and brightens in cycles until emptiness fills your sight. Yet his warmth never leaves your body.

It lingers and prickles your skin like needles. The tingling grows until your whole body scratches with static.

And suddenly, there's nothing.

Everything stops. Your eyes fade to black, and your skin, muscles and bones frit away like paper. All that remains is a light, small and blue, flickering.

You're alone.

But he is still there, waiting.

Two hands reach out from the darkness, encircling you and the warmth returns.

"I will take care of you."

With no one else and nothing left, you to accept the caress sinking further into the dark and its all-encompassing presence.