One Last Dance
One Last Dance
"Can I have a dance?"
A man with a pitch black mask covering the upper half of his face asked me. His face was very pale and his lips were thin.
Looking in his twinkling dark eyes, I felt like I've seen them before.
"But I can't dance." I said.
I wouldn’t have come to the ball if it weren’t themed as a Victorian London one. There is something I find really interesting about the Victorian era.
"Oh Darling!" the man said with a charming smile, "Let me take the lead."
This time I knew for sure I’ve heard that same voice saying the exact same word, “Darling!”
Unconsciously I gave my hands to his. We moved to the dance floor. He put his hand behind my back and pulled me closer.
I was oblivious to my surrounding. The only thing I was looking at was his pitch black eyes. The lights reflected in them as we move along the music. Hours after hours past. But we did not stop. I could not remember when was the last time I felt that much happy. We laughed, we danced and kept staring at each other’s eyes.
A sudden flashback cross my mind. I was dancing with my beloved surrounded by the dark woods. Our laughs were the only sound we could hear.
I pulled away and gasped, “You’re him.”
He came closer to me and whispered, “And you’re her, my mellilla.”
Read Part 2 Here

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Rating: 3/5
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