We spin to the music, the mirror on the wall reflects the dips and spins of you and I. You, my dance partner since we were 8 years old, sways with your strong arms around me. Our hearts seem to beat as one with the rhythm of the music. The song as an old, familiar one, a melody I seem to remember from a day of childhood, a day of innocence. A day that feels so long ago.
I spin to face you, your eyes shining like the disco ball casting rays about with the smoth surfaces of the mirrors. I would dance with you forever if I could. You are so relaxed whe nwe dance, and so unlike the stressed bundle of nerves I know you to be in the open.
Our whirling dance is stopped abruptly, the door to your room buste down with a thud. You are ripped from my arms and I am thrown to the floor. The music ceases, and a man hoists you over his shoulder. I scream, but another man throws me onto your bed, my face in your pillow to stifle my shreik of horror.
I hear you shout, "it will be alright!", but I cannot beleive you. The men leave with you and even the lights go out. I feel dead inside.
THe glow in the dark stars on your ceiling observe the tradgedy, winking at me above my head.
The dance has ended. It will be the last dance for me. And for you.
YOU ARE READING
A Skeleton Key- short stories
RastgeleA random assortment of short stories and poetry. Some of the short stories are... somewhat scary and/or confusing or suggestive. If you have problems with stuff like this, there'll be WARNING!!! in the title and the first line of the books. Thanks...
