Friday, December 28, 2007

Maison de Macabre - A Very Short Story

I am trying to better understand it, but the words escape me. So, maybe I should sing it to you. No? Then, perhaps I should close my eyes and dream it to you. That way, no detail gets left behind.

She danced for him, you know. She danced because she wanted to. Or, she danced because she had to. He would never allow any other action from her. She was too much of a goddess for anything menial.

I watched it all from my little corner of the house where no one would think to look. The family gave up on me many years ago, so I flutter from room to room, not caring what I do. They do not so why should I?

She danced so well last night, so much so that I wanted to reach out to her and tap her on the shoulder, giving her a moment of being spooked before realizing it was I who tapped her.

“Julien,” she would say in her usual tone towards me, “how many times have I told you to not scare me like that?” I would smile then flutter off, knowing that she would never trust me again.

But no, this time, she danced well. He stood there, hands tightly wrapped around a silver tipped cane, his black eyes watching her every move, looking for any slip up and finding none. He wanted her to fail simply to show that she was indeed human.

I knew better, however. I knew that she was more than just a dancer. She was his heart and my sister. She was his lover and my tutor. She was everything to him and nothing to me.

So, I watched. She danced. And soon, the house went black.


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