Emily's Dance

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Emily is excited as she prepares for the weekend dance at the castle. This was a challenge to write a story based on a song.

Emily’s Dance

 

Emily twirled and bowed, spinning her dress around and around as she sang and danced through her small studio apartment. She picked up her cat, and clutching poor Maggie to her breast, she swirled through her practiced steps for the evening.

“Oh, Maggie, I love the weekends when I can dance with all the gallant men at the Doune Castle.”

Maggie meowed and flashed an indignant look as Emily continued to spin and twirl. After several minutes of prancing about, she put Maggie on the chair where the cat curled snugly in the corner, but not before a quick glare at her mistress.

“Silly girl. I have to find the perfect gown for tonight. I hope Richard and Edward are there. Last week there were a couple of handsome fellows I hadn’t seen before. What were their names? Oh, well, if they come tonight, I can ask.”

Emily flung open her closet to find the perfect look to enchant the gentlemen she’d be seeing later. “The green gown? I wore that a couple of weeks ago. It still has some dirt on the hem, so, no, not that one. Yellow is nice but seems too bright for an evening dance.”

She pulled out an exquisite royal blue, floor-length ballgown and examined it for flaws. Holding it in front of herself before the mirror, she turned and shifted, wishing her breasts were larger so they would stand out in the flattering sweetheart neckline. She held her breath and frowned at her not-so-narrow waist.

“I’ll have to wear a corset with this one or I’ll look too fat. These men are quite discerning about appearances and expect women to be perfect. Don’t you think this color brings out my sapphire eyes, Maggie?”

She turned toward the chair, but the cat was sound asleep, snoring.

“You sleep, pretty girl. I’m getting dressed.”

****

Emily stepped from her coach as the sun sank below the horizon. The lights from the ballroom above blazed through the gloom. With her fan in one hand, she held her gown’s skirt off the ground with the other as she approached the majestic front doors. The bellman ushered her inside with a bow. She nodded at him as she passed.

Climbing the stairs, she could hear the beginning of the Galliarde.

“Oh, I’m late! If I hurry, I might be able to join in before it ends.”

She grabbed her skirt, lifted it higher, and nearly ran up the stairs. When she arrived outside the room, she stopped, took a few deep breaths to settle herself. The herald announced her. Everyone turned to watch her entrance.

She glided past several elegant men, and Emily nodded her head as they acknowledged her with a slight bow. She peeked over her opened fan for Edward. She always chose him first. When she caught his eye, he hurried to her side, pecking her cheeks in the French fashion. He extended his hand and she was pulled into the dance.

She danced the Volta, Courante, and Galliarde with men she had loved, and some who had loved her. She danced with men she couldn’t recall having ever met before and some Emily hadn’t seen in so long, their names simply slipped away. The upper floor where the ballroom was located had no glass in the windows, and after a while, she noticed she was dancing the Volta through snow that had blown in.

The men whirled her around on the damp and dirty, cold, stone floor, and she laughed and flirted the night away. As daylight began to peep through the shadows, the men bowed to her and took their leave.

As the last of them released her hands, she curtsied and said, “Good night, Your Majesty. I wish we never had to stop. I hate to go.”

The king smiled at her and faded away. Emily glanced around the empty room, never noticing the crumbling walls and rotted beams. She descended the stairs, avoiding the cracked and decaying steps, and out the door that hung crookedly on its hinges.

“I can’t wait for next weekend,” she said, sighing, as she pulled out her keys and slipped into her car.


Submitted: July 20, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Avery Stark. All rights reserved.

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