Without Colour

Dancing.

She was never a coordinated girl. Not graceful, when she walked, or beautiful as she fell.
But her voice, oh that angelic sound, it was delicate. Quiet.
She used it as an escape, when no one was around she disappeared into a black oblivion that was a melody and she danced.
Her feet did not move, nor did her body sway...
Yet she danced.
As her voice grew thinner, and her vocal chords ached..
And then she was still.
For the sound had broken a barrier and an audience had arisen from the dark.
"Come with me," Said the masked admirer. "I can show you sin so morbidly beautiful. I can teach you to dance as you move on forbidden thorns."

She considered, marvelling in the way his robe hung past his feet, and the hood cloaked his face in blackness. She noticed the staff he held toward her, sharp to the touch- and she was intrigued.
Who was this man, who spoke so kindly of a thing so dark?
And again she danced, danced with the stranger into an abyss for ever more..