I Remember

Storytellers Club- Song Prompt

This is in response to a song prompt (Schnittke Piano Quintet- Waltz; it's actually pretty good in a really creepy way). I actually struggled quite a bit to come up with something for this prompt, so here goes...

The months leading up to the ball had been quite eventful.

Mother had insisted the plans not be changed, even amidst the chaos of the surrounding countries. It really had started as nothing- no cause of alarm, just a small skirmish between the neighbors- which soon escalated, of course, to full blown war. The day before the ball, we entered it.

The extravagant gowns filling the room do not match the atmosphere at all, instead serving as a sort of cruel juxtaposition, as if taunting the partygoers. As if asking how we dare continue with such a façade. I can almost feel her watching.

We saw almost nothing of Mother those few months beforehand. She kept to her room, only venturing out every now and then to keep face amongst our people. It became hard to tell just how much of her pale face could be attributed to her makeup and powders. Her perfume laced the air, covering any trace of sickness. The only difference we truly noticed was how dull Mother's once intense malevolent glare had become.

The melodies being played in the dimly lit chamber sound similar to the songs Mother insisted be constantly played in her room. If I listen closely, I can still hear her muffled heaving. Much in the same way I can almost feel eyes tracking my every movement.

We think it was the war that set it off, the stress of it too much for Mother. More and more frequent threats on the lives of the royal family mixed with her diminishing strength eventually drove her to remain in her room, and led to a complete disappearance of her from our lives.

We haven't seen her for a week.

Although, as this strange dance continues, it almost feels as if she's here. We've told our guests that she elected to remain in her chambers for the evening, but even I don't feel too certain about it. That shadow in the corner bears frightening resemblance to her straight, stern figure.

The sounds resonating throughout the room make it seem as if there is even war within the orchestra- harmonies not quite lining up, crashing and swelling at uneven intervals. The waltz is picking up speed. I'm thrown around the floor, tossed between the two sides of the room. Two strains of this melody. Two sides of this war. Two eyes through the crowd.

My feet are growing tired, but I can't stop now. Not when I know what lurks in the shadows along the edges of the room. Not when I can feel a familiar malevolent glare burning through me. If I leave now, this unstable peace I've built up will break. And I don't think I'm the only one who feels this way.

No one has yet to leave.

In the month before the ball, Mother developed the habit of telling us that if the war didn't get her first, surely she'd die of the stress it was causing. And that if she did leave us, she'd make sure to drag at least one other person down with her. She was vengeful like that.

Nearly no one in this building truly knows of Mother's state, and only a select few ever really heard her dark promises. And yet, still everyone continues to dance as though the first one out is sure to be Mother's target. We move as if our lives depend on it, as if the devil himself has been invited and is looking for someone to take home.

I've been assured countless times Mother is alive and well, but I'm not so sure. I can almost feel her bony grasp around my wrist, urging me to leave, to come with her. Dragging me down. The music builds and dies, and yet we keep going. Exhaustion lines the faces around me, and sweat taints the air, but I won't stop, and neither will anyone else.

Mother has now made it clear that our options are to either die of exhaustion, sitting ducks just waiting for the war to finally reach the castle, or come with her. I don't know which offer sounds more appealing, so for now, I will keep moving. I will keep moving until everything around me becomes a fuzzy blur and eventually fades into nothingness, no matter what I will face when I once again open my eyes.

And later, when I do finally come to my senses, I can almost still hear the music playing as I am greeted with a sight I should have expected.

It was on the night of the ball that our castle fell. And it was on that same night that Mother found someone to take with her to finally rest in peace.