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SparklingEmbers

United States

Born an Ember
Growing a Flame
Now a Fire
Love to Write
Dream to Aspire

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Don't forget to have a good day :)

Slow

January 25, 2019

FREE WRITING

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Slow.
The small steps of the dancers on the beat of the rhythm are slow. The aerial view the king had was a silhouetted bouquet of waltzing gowns. The small whispers of the crowd was whisked out by the haunting music.
Slow.
Witnesses are hidden behind black masks that curl around their face and suffocate their longing. The masks drown their lust and replace it with wicked darkness.
Slow.
The Murder would be here any minute, and when they came, the King would be sure to treat the foreigners with utmost respect, for he feared what would happen if he didn’t show respect.
Slow.
Minutes bled into hours and the sense of tension was foggy in the atmosphere. Fear was thick, sludgy, and icy cold- snow. The bell chimed twelve-late. Midnight.
Slow.
And the door opened with such certainty, such a loud booming sound, as cloaked men consumed the crowd.
Slow.
The dancers stopped in horror to stare, and the cloaked men were able to weave through without any trouble.
Slow.
They approached the king and he bowed before them. “Wonderful party.” They spoke inside his mind. “Elegant and extravagant.” The king nodded his head in reply, grateful they were not threatening. Then one stepped forward.
Slow.
“But something’s missing” In his mind it sounded like a hiss, a whirr of words. The king took a sip of his wine.“A touch of fear is all you need.”
Slow.
He rocked on his feet, wide eyed.
Slow.
He tried to steady himself.
Slow.
He fell to the ground, motionless.
Slow.
The dancers crept around the dance floor.
Slow.

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