The Last Dance

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
We all flirt with death... In the end, she will always choose us. Not the other way around.

Submitted: October 06, 2015

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Submitted: October 06, 2015

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I saw her sitting all alone on a far corner of the room. There were thousands of people surrounding us both and an entire world of dance floor between us. I couldn't help stare at her. She wasn't beautiful... She didn't have a great body... She was actually pretty simple. 

Everyone was wearing expensive jewellery, big dress gowns, high stilettos, masks, makeup, fancy earrings and were twirling around in such a precise form that Galileo would have been found wanting with his pendulum clock. Everyone, that is, except for her.

She wore a sky blue dress. Nothing fancy. It ran to her knees and let her white calves show ending in white dusty shoes. She had a seashell hanging from her neck on a cheap sailors rope, and tied her black hair back with a worn out ribbon. She had no makeup on, no earrings and was sitting looking across the room at me... into me... through me. 

She did not smile nor show any signs of affection towards me... Nor any approving nods for me to walk up to her. But she was drawing me in. I stood up, pulled my jacket down, brushed my hair back and began the long lonely march across the room. 

A couple slammed into me while twirling, another pushed me while doing a square dance, a few just stared at me as I trudged through all these heartless mechanical dancers. But finally, I was there. Standing in front of her.

Her stare was still locked into mine. I felt a chill run down my spine. Closer now to her than ever I could see her thin white arms, nearly without any muscle. Her hair seemed to shine brighter, her brown eyes seemed greener, her nose more stylised and her face seemed rounder. 

I swallowed hard my fear and stretched out my hand... 

"Might I have this dance?" I asked, without breaking eye contact.

She lowered her eyes onto my hand, then looked back up and said "No."

I blinked twice, half smiled, flinched my nose and did not move. I couldn't move. I couldn't believe the coldness in her word, the frost in just two letters, the deadly blow of a single syllable. 

I stood there at a half bow, left arm behind my back, my right arm stretched towards her. My eyes still locked with hers. The room kept dancing and the people kept spinning and classical music filled the air... But the clock stopped ticking and the hummingbird's wings stopped fluttering and the world stood still outside this ball room dance.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

I breathed in again and the clock started moving and the world began to tick. I pulled back my hand and straightened myself. I took a step back and exhaled. She stood up. Her blue dress sculptured her thin body. She was short. Her shoulders round and bony pulling her skin from the neck to her collar bone. She had a short neck. As she walked, her hair came undone from the ribbon and flew across her face. My eyes were open wide... She was walking steadily towards me.

I took another step back into a young couple. I couldn't look away from her. She kept coming near. My feet were frozen, my hands sweating, my heart beating, my pupils wide, my breathing rapid... She was right in front of me now.

As if a magnet had come on, my hand wrapped around her waist and I pulled her close... Her arms and hands over my shoulder, her face slightly leaning to a side... She drew near my face... Closer... closer... closer still... I could feel her breath crashing into mine... her breathing almost from my nose... She leaned into my ear and whispered: "I am Death... I've come to have your last dance."


© Copyright 2020 unknown knives. All rights reserved.

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