A Change to Scenary

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A story that's suggestive of one thing, but leads to another...

Submitted: August 02, 2008

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 02, 2008



The cold night air tugged longingly at Annabelle’s dark, brown tresses, causing loose strands to fall into her eyes. She was slightly out of breath and flushed from dancing.

She leaned casually against the frame of one of the many doors that led out to the balcony. Peering back into the ballroom, she watched countless couples twirling to their heart’s content. Everyone moved in a happy spell of dizziness.

The blaring light of the chandeliers illuminated a sea of colorful gowns, glittering jewelry, and floral adornments. Annabelle looked down at her own gown, which lay on her thin frame in a way that was quite becoming. It was a strikingly simplistic midnight blue that she had paired with elbow-length gloves, a white sash, and a diamond necklace that clung unforgiving at her throat.

Her violet eyes deepened at what she saw before her. It was a never ending, ridiculous plot panning out on the screen. A laughable despair hung on the moment, as she viewed the entire substance of her life. All she knew was that she had to stop watching.

She moved in the dark with a grace that lacked natural human character; her heels soundless against the cobblestones. The view of Jonathan Blake smoking in the distance gave Annabelle an unexpectedly pleasant thrill. Nothing could be more perfect.

Her steps became more hurried. A sharp breeze confronted her, tearing at the sash around her shoulders. It was swept away and scuttled across the large balcony. However, Annabelle paid it no heed. Such useless items were of little importance.

In one crashing moment, they made eye contact. A smile went to her eyes and it resided there, sparkling. It was the look that she couldn’t help but give when she saw Jonathan.

He too was much affected by her appearance. His cigarette went cascading to the ground, ending in an orange ember. Without it he looked vulnerable

“Always a pleasure to see you Blake,” She murmured, formality laced in every word, but her movements inviting.

He read her with his deep, brown eyes. They rested contentedly on her entire person, and he said, “I think it is quite obvious that I own all the pleasure in this situation.”

The way he said it, was as if it were a pure and simple fact and it halted Annabelle in her approach. The effect was quite jarring.

She couldn’t help but think that Jonathan didn’t belong anywhere. Despite the fact that he wore a tuxedo, and managed to look good in it, he didn’t really belong in the ballroom. However, separated from it on the balcony didn’t suit him any better. At home and away from it, the fact remained the same.

Passion rose in Annabelle’s throat, and she became scared that she was going to reveal her thoughts. Hardly a second later though, she was laughing are herself. This passion was definitely not leading to words, it was leading to something sinfully delicious. The idea was overwhelmingly tantalizing.

Jonathan’s own thoughts were racing. He would soon know what fate tasted like, for surely fate had brought Annabelle out to him.

They were now inches away from each other, breathing in the other’s stilted breath. Annabelle gazed up at Jonathan, the wan moon shining on her innocent face. She took a pistol out of the folds of her dress, and she shot him.

He crumpled to the ground, blood trickling from his wound and his mouth. The Annabelle that had stood gazing in at the dance, was not the same Annabelle that stood over Jonathan Blake. This Annabelle had a completely different life than the other, and that made her smile.

She looked down at him for a moment longer, and the look that she couldn’t help but give him came once more to her eyes. It was then that she realized where he belonged. The knowledge that he belonged to her, and she had had him burned on her face. Annabelle gracefully walked away, and followed the sash that had trailed off into the night.

© Copyright 2018 Amanda Paige. All rights reserved.

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