Young Writers Society

Right. I am new here, so don't bite my head off if I break some of the inside rules(Don't worry, I know about the important ones)!

I am clearing out some of my writing files at the moment in a frantic effort to 'abandon ship' before my computer wheezes it's last wheeze, and I stumbled upon this peice of writing. I am not sure when ,where or why I wrote this, but I do have some plot outline archived away. My question is, do you think that this had potential/should be continued?

Don't pull you punches, it was written a LONG time ago, and first drafts are Always rubbish.Enjoy(Or not), and PLEASE R&R thoroughly!

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The Moonlight ball

The grass was sparkling with midnight dew, the ladies were wisping along the cold stone courtyard and the men were prancing about the floor with many a hapless girl in tow. I watched with envy as my friend, Tiliti, whirled past, her night’s admirer throwing himself into a dervish-like ritual. Malachii had always had two left feet.

A low sound filled the air as a double bass elf drew his lilting tune out of the old wooden instrument, and a light dancing violin added to the melody, a high wailing that was pleasurably but almost painful to the ear. The host’s voice rang out , calling the revel to the inviting indoors. Most of the ensemble floated in, but as I made my way into the marble ballroom I slipped past a few tree-sprites sitting on a grassy knoll, their dark muttering unintelligible.

As always, the party had gravitated towards the latest entertainment, a small crowd of bored watchers getting ready to be distracted by a new trick. I sighed again. But then the show began.

a man, clad in a dark cloak and blue-black raven feathers, sat upon a rickety stool playing a peculiar crescent-shaped pipe. His tune was haunting, reminding the elven gentry of darker revels and the pixies of hot iron .I stared, enraptured,at his face as the notes danced from the old pearwood moon. The black spheres blew away into the night,bubbles of magic on a cool peppermint wind. The man noticed my face and laughed.The spell was broken. but as he glanced at me, the others stared.

“Ah, my song has ensnared you, young mistress? I can see it in your face. And such a pretty face!”. He laughed again, and the others with him , the men’s chuckles like a bear’s rumbling. “If I could steal a kiss from such an exquisite face, then I would die happy. But such a kiss would taste much sweeter if it were not stolen- but given?"

This time all the ladies laughed, the tinkling sound echoing prettily off the cold whit stone.

I blushed and kept silent. "Ah well then, perhaps not at this very moment,”the raven-man said with mock disappointment,” But perhaps my friends could persuade you otherwise?’’ He smiled agin as the eyes perused the room, no doubt looking for these ‘friends’. But then the young man’s expression grew fixed. He took a peice of parchment out of his pocket and layed it down on the marble. He retook his position on the stool and began to play again. Once more the tune filled the hall, but the song had a more urgent, lighter tone. and then to the (somewhat larger) crowd’s surprise, an elegant hand rose up out of the surface of the paper. The pale sking was grasped by the man’s hand and he helped the creature out of the parchment.

TheWoman had long, curly dark hair, the same raven-black as the man’s and , judging by the identical pale skin, i thought that they must be siblings.She wore a fine ash-grey bodice and a peacock feather skirt with pearl-pink netting and moonlight petticoats, a fine dress for sure , and for sure most of the ladies ( and some men ) could be found staring at it. But I stared at the ladies arms. they were wound round with purple-black velvet ribbon, giving the impression of scars andd, almost marring the perfect picture. I was reminded of the violin, pleasure perfectly balanced with pain.

Then the lady stepped forward.Unwinding her long ribbons, she flew into a dance, leaving transfixed a whole host of fair folk.