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Colours of pastel twirled gracefully over the smooth wooden planks of the ballroom and heels clacked endlessly as they pummeled its surface. At the front of the stage a band played an enchanting song, drowning the cries that the floor dared to whisper. Rich faces hid under jeweled masks, feigning the illusion of elegance and as if looking down upon innocence their crooked smiles laughed with tenacious animosity.
Among them a young man, Ivan Harcourt doused himself in the luxury of ignorance as many before him. Caught like a fly to a fire his hazel eyes watched grace itself carefully treading down the marble staircase, adorned in a gold gown that radiated off the light of the chandelier.
Enraptured by her grace Ivan extended his gloved hand and allowed his features to relax into a charming smile to welcome the young lady's presence "What would I have to owe, to have the first dance?" With the turn of her head, the woman's emerald eyes settled upon his honey kissed lips with cynicism as his words lingered in the air like the first breath of spring "A romantic drama," she replied in a sarcastic tone, her voice as silk laden as the gown she wore.
Within moments their feet glided across the floor in time to the melancholy tunes of the violin that drowned their footsteps into silence. Wrapped in the folly of love Ivan courted her, speaking sweet compliments and naive statements. The epitome of naivety he began falling further and further into lust and she indulged him.
A passionate kiss ended their waltz as the violin halted their melancholy tune and Ivan's world began to sway in colours of red, black and gold, melding into a blinding white light "Au revoir," her poison words echoed through his mind as pain trickled its way under his skin, coursing through his veins and into his heart. He drifted into a slumber that he would not awake from.
Triumphantly the golden lady stood above his corpse, her task was done. The curtain had fallen, this show had finally drawn to a close and the next one had just begun.
Among them a young man, Ivan Harcourt doused himself in the luxury of ignorance as many before him. Caught like a fly to a fire his hazel eyes watched grace itself carefully treading down the marble staircase, adorned in a gold gown that radiated off the light of the chandelier.
Enraptured by her grace Ivan extended his gloved hand and allowed his features to relax into a charming smile to welcome the young lady's presence "What would I have to owe, to have the first dance?" With the turn of her head, the woman's emerald eyes settled upon his honey kissed lips with cynicism as his words lingered in the air like the first breath of spring "A romantic drama," she replied in a sarcastic tone, her voice as silk laden as the gown she wore.
Within moments their feet glided across the floor in time to the melancholy tunes of the violin that drowned their footsteps into silence. Wrapped in the folly of love Ivan courted her, speaking sweet compliments and naive statements. The epitome of naivety he began falling further and further into lust and she indulged him.
A passionate kiss ended their waltz as the violin halted their melancholy tune and Ivan's world began to sway in colours of red, black and gold, melding into a blinding white light "Au revoir," her poison words echoed through his mind as pain trickled its way under his skin, coursing through his veins and into his heart. He drifted into a slumber that he would not awake from.
Triumphantly the golden lady stood above his corpse, her task was done. The curtain had fallen, this show had finally drawn to a close and the next one had just begun.
Don't Trust A Pretty Face
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