The Ballroom

The Ballroom

D. A. Ratliff

Is this place real?"

Stephen asked as his sister led him into the empty ballroom. He spun, attempting to absorb every detail, fascinated by the ornate woodwork.

“Of course, it’s real, silly. Luckily, there was a cancellation, and we can have the reception here. My fairytale wedding is coming true. Granted, getting everything switched to an earlier date was difficult, but Mother can be persuasive.”

Stephen knew that fact all too well. Their formidable mother gave his sister, Genevieve, everything she wanted. His mother barely gave him the time of day as she disapproved of his career as a museum curator rather than a physician like the rest of the famed Montgomery family.

Genie ran to the center French door, opened it, and yelled to the world with arms outstretched, “I love this place.” She spun around. “Stephen, help me decide how to decorate this ballroom. It’s beautiful.”

“Don’t you want your wedding planner to help you with this?”

For a moment, Genie's eyes reflected the cold, steely gaze he often saw in his mother’s. “Again, you are being silly. You’re an artist with a flair for design, so I’m using you for free. The planner costs Mother money.”

After twenty minutes, Stephen realized why the wedding planner always sported a sneer on her face. Dealing with Genie proved difficult enough to put anyone in a foul mood. They were fussing about napkin colors when Genie received a phone call from her fiancé. With a squeal, she rushed out the open French doors, chattering on the phone, leaving him in the center of the room.

Exhaustion flowed through Stephen. He had gotten little sleep helping with wedding preparations. He contemplated sitting on the floor against the wall and took a step when he became overcome with fatigue and chilled to the bone as frigid air swirled around him. The thought of closing the French doors flitted through his mind, but the room began to spin, his vision blurred, and he passed out.

~~~

Stephen awoke, lying on the floor in a brightly lit room, hearing haunting music. He opened his eyelids to narrow slits and peered at several people poised over him, staring.

Confused, he pushed himself up but decided against it until the room stopped spinning. He closed his eyes and listened to the music—a harpsichord. There wasn’t a harpsichord in the ballroom, and why were there so many voices?

With a herculean effort, he stood—and then felt faint again. He was in the ballroom where he had been alone moments before but now crowded with people in fancy dress.

“Where am I?” He realized his voice shot up an octave when he spoke.

A handsome man, his skin pale against a dark beard, slapped him on the back. “You danced quite enthusiastically and fainted. You look fine now.”

“I will say he does.” The feminine voice came from a beautiful redhead who smiled coyly at him.

He opened his mouth to answer when an arm linked into his, and a pale brunette with glittery green eyes snapped at the redhead. “He’s mine.”

With that, she nodded to him and announced it was time to dance. Time meant nothing as the beautiful woman proved mesmerizing. He had never experienced such witty conversation or infectious laughter and didn’t want the feeling to end.

But end, it did. One by one, the dancers around him faded into oblivion as the music became fainter until he and the beautiful brunette were alone. As Stephen felt her pull away, he tried to hold onto her, but she smiled as she disappeared into the mist.

“Wake up, Stephen! No time to nap. Now, about the napkin colors.”

A sense of loss washed over him as his sister’s voice returned him to reality. The beautiful woman he’d danced with was only a dream.

~~~

Stephen watched as the wedding guests dined while dancers whirled across the shiny floor. His sister, resplendent in a gown costing as much as a small country's budget, had the wedding of her dreams, and even their mother smiled at the gala event.

Dreams. He couldn’t shake the vision he had in the room where he now stood. It seemed very real, but it couldn’t have been. He had to forget the beautiful woman that haunted his thoughts. Needing a drink, Stephen headed for the bar when frigid air flowed around him again, and he heard the faint sound of a harpsichord. A soft hand on his shoulder turned him around. His beautiful brunette dancing partner stood before him.

“How… how did you…?”

“I am Lillith, and I chose to come. You visited us in the Shadowscape, where souls linger to decide whether to ascend to a lofty plane or return. You found me, and I chose to return to be with you if you will have me.”

Stephen’s answer was to kiss the beautiful Lillith and escort her to the dance floor for the rest of their lives.

***

Thank you for reading this flash-fiction story, written for Writers Unite's What's Next? prompt on Facebook.