Ball

  "Colour was indeed the first thing to register with me. Then the sweeping carved stone pillars and the grand checked tiles. The windows criss-crossed with metal, stain glass between them and the light filtering through. The ceiling far up and again carved from stone, detailed and more beautiful than any I'd seen. When you got past the beauty of the decor and architecture, you properly saw the people in their attire. Ball gowns in all their glory, headpieces carefully balanced and hands poised. Gentle music played from somewhere to my left, and the wine was rich and bitter sweet, it left my senses a little hazy. Adding to the beauty nonetheless.

Men had coats of red and black, golden masks of foxes. But the women, they had ball gowns that trailed the floor, all the colours in every shade. Their masks were cats and eagles, mountain lions and sharks. Cunning goats and clever hyenas. It was glorious.

  A deep undersea shade of blue darted past my eye, snagging my attention and making me twirl as if in a love sick dance. The material of this particular dress was fine silk under a blue velvet layer, cut to show the silk in designs of flowers and swirls that cascaded down to the floor. Sliver thread running through the dress accented the curves and lines. Like sliver bubbles underwater. Startling grey eyes hid beneath the mask, fascinating and alluring. Yet somehow my feet did not take hold of my mind, I found myself instead stumbling for more wine. My tongue missing the taste.

  And so the night wore on, my ears grew accustomed to the clatter and drowned it out, my mind grew more and more foggy with the wine. The music turned faster, and less gentle, and people had taken to the dance floor, the colours of the dresses blending with the blunt coloured suits. Of course I had not come with anyone so I was free to dance between the crowd, stepping lightly past the circles of laughing people. They laughed and smiled, moved with the heavy beat of the music.

  The mosaic floor and the pillars of stone, this music did not fit the setting. The people were old, not in mentality or physically, but their attitudes. Their dress sense and how they acted, it didn't fit the music. Everything else was old and elegant. Defined and proper. But a heavy industrial beat rumbled the floor, the singer's words almost drowned out by instruments. Yet still the dancers danced and the drinkers drank. The wine intoxicated me, I was enveloped in its soft embrace. I didn't see anything wrong. Through the crowd I spotted that dark blue again. My legs brought me closer and then all of a sudden the crowds seemed smaller. The music slower and the colours brighter.

  The owner of the blue dress had her mask off. Her brown hair fell around her shoulders and gleamed in the light. Her skin was dewy and smooth, tanned like she spent every waking minute in an olive garden. When she turned my way I saw her eyes, grey and sliver, like a sliver penny on a sunny windowsill. So full of hope. The blue complimented her skin, and her soft hands clutched a small purse. She smiled at a joke and her eyes sparkled, then she resumed her dancing. Swaying in time with the mechanical beat, her bare arms moved in a captivating way. I don't know how long I stood there, just watching her. The only word I could use for her is entrancing. The way she moved, laughed, smiled, breathed. She was spectacular. And I wanted to dance with her. I made my way through the crowd, cought in a spiders web, the tangy wine only adding to her effects on me. When I was beside her I didn't say a word, only took her hand and lead her to the middle of the dance floor. She went along with me, smiling to show her perfect teeth. Her perfect everything. She danced in a circle around me, moving to the now fitting music, her heartbeat echoed in the drums. Her smile the climax of the musical notes, and the low of the song was how she twirled. Brown hair flowing out. Her blue dress swishing around her legs and her hands over my shoulders. She was glorious.

  Then, like all things must, the song ended. The blue thunderstorm in my arms twisted away. Seeking another dance partner. She slipped through the crowd, throwing one last, perfect smile my way. Leaving me standing still, staring after her. Strange and foreign. Exciting and mysterious. My Cinderella. Words dripped through my mind. Maybe my hazy senses weren't just from the wine."

  I sit back in my chair, twisting the ring around my finger after accounting that night. The night that had started it all. My mouth a little dry from such a speech. Beautiful hands reach forward and grip mine. A blue thunderstorm sits in front of me.