Well, here we go again. My last entry for this flashfiction was 494 words. Over the 400 word limit. So I reworked Beyond the Lace Curtains to this new piece. 379 words.
Beyond Curtains of Lace Louise Sorensen October 10, 2012
Only three people heard the faint strain of Flamenco guitar playing upon the wind that All Hallows Eve. Melinda the rider, Mateo the warrior, and Anna Maria the dancer. Of the three, only the dancer followed the music to the crumbling house brooding on the hill.
The old church bell tolled twelve. Peering through the glass French doors, the dancer startled as pale lace curtains lifted from the wall.
Green mist filled the room, the doors yawned wide.
The dancer entered.
With an unseen wind the curtains filled. A woman pale as bone appeared, glided ‘cross the wooden floor with bruising kisses from her dancing shoes. The guitar awoke, eyes bright, played harder. The woman, rhythm faster, eyed the dancer.
The dancer dreamed the music on her lips, hands high stirred the burning air with finger tips, struck the bare wood floor with heels, soft leather. The floor trembled to her rough caress. Throughout the empty house her footsteps echoed, drumbeat of a hollow heart.
The woman tattooed stars and circles on the floor, the dancer matched her step for step. A violin wept lost love, revenge, betrayal. A trumpet sang out molten notes, despair, and hope.
The woman sighed, ‘Dance with me,’ upon the rushing air.
They whirled around, bathed in moonlight steaming through the open doors. The woman held out her hand “Come with me, stay with me, be with me.’
Green lightnings crackled in the air, the walls gently parted. Soft lightnings stroked the dancer’s skin, then minnow quick, flashed away.
The lightnings spun together, wove a man. The woman laced the dancer tight.
The dancer fought with all her might, the dreamy wrappings.
Tore away the lacy curtains made of ghosts. Escaped the woman pale as bone, the dark eyed man sketched all in lightnings. Flew through the open French doors. Disappeared into the lonely night.
The wail of the woman, the cry of the man pursued her, spurring on her flight.
For it was not her time to leave the town, all the life within.
Not her time to release the lovers, dance in the woman’s place.
Not her time to be lost forever in a silent world, beyond curtains of lace.