Ghosts Among You

The Waltz of The Rotting

It was a brisk December night- one of the coldest that had ever been. The wind whirled whimsically, sending all trees in its path thrashing and twisting about. Pale, uncovered cheeks would soon sting a rosy red, and the tips of noses would often match. It was a cold capable of seeping into one's bones, a cold that would continue to give someone chills after hours of sitting by a roasting fire. Yet, to most, the sight of the falling snow made everything worth it. This was the first snowfall of the season, and each flake that descended resembled something immaculate as if it came from the Heavens.

However, not all of the people of Russia were stirred by the freezing air. Within the walls of the Imperial Palace, the Czar Nicholas II, his loving family, and his many guests danced the night away as their energy and joy warmed up the expansive and ornate ballroom. It was a night of celebration, for it was the last night that the Dowager Empress Maria Feodorovna would be spending in St. Petersburg before taking care of affairs in Paris. Many would miss her dearly, but celebrating her departure was a way to communicate that they all wished her the best.

Among these partygoers was a girl no older than twelve. Her spirits were high, and her smile ever-shining. As she danced, her heart fluttered to the sound of violins, each strum of the bowe against the strings was another beat in her chest. Her long, golden hair swayed freely at her unrestrained motions. Through her fun, the girl looked upon a plethora of familiar faces, but her dizzied mind could not make out distinctive features. The little Russian girl could focus on nothing but the feeling that her soul was ascending to the clouds.

Though, her trance was soon disturbed when she heard a voice whisper from behind, "Psst, you, come here!"

The girl couldn't help but wonder who had spoken behind her, and no matter how much she didn't want to cease her movements, she was failing to fight the potent urge of curiosity that abruptly had overcome her. It was an urge that burned, itched, and pulled at her mind until she found herself spinning around to face the voice that spoke so secretively. There in front of her stood a boy slightly younger than she. The girl, wanted to speak, but she could only marvel at his features. His skin was as white as the snow outside, his hair was as dark as the Earth beneath them, and his eyes an icy blue. His sharp gaze was trained solely on her, and she could see that they only held mischief- something that the girl knew was always on his mind.

As soon as the boy was aware that he had successfully attracted the attention of the curious girl, he began to speak, "Do you want to help me do something that will most certainly land us both in trouble?"

The young girl pondered the question before responding, "As long as I can blame everything on you when we get caught!"

"Really, I'm still being punished for the last time!" the boy whined loudly.

She didn't remember exactly what the last time was, but that didn't bother her as her head was still clouded. The girl concluded that the dancing was to blame, as her trance was not yet gone.

Regardless, her desire for joy was not hindered, so she found it in her best interest to ignore the empty spaces in her mind. "Do you want my help or not?" the girl retorted in an impatient manner, avoiding a direct response to the boy's previous statement.

"I guess," the boy conceded melancholy and defeated, and in one melodramatic motion, he grabbed the girl's hand tightly, and began to trudge through the crowd of people with the girl in tow. As the pair wormed their way through, the dancing couples in closest proximity to the duo stopped to look at them.Their faces held one thousand questions and delighted expressions. They seemed to find the two children both adorable and amusing, enjoying the fact that they were still capable of embarking on their own playful adventures.