…nevertheless, Death was a good dancer. He led me round and round, keeping in perfect step with the band, and I glided across the floor like I was nothing, nothing but a ghost. We passed through the circuit of dancers many times, repeating the cycles as the waltz played on.
I knew midnight must be near, and I asked him, “Must we go?”
His grim features made no sign unto me, and he did not speak a word.
“This dance is marvelous. Will we not return and dance again?”
No answer came from my grim companion.
“Will there be dances where you are taking me?”
The music faded, and, with every step, our dance slowed. Silence from the orchestra, and we stood together upon the dance floor. I gazed up into his dark eyes as our fellow dancers began to withdraw. I could hear them, quiet voices and soft footsteps, but my eyes were locked upon that pale face.
Somewhere, the chimes of midnight sounded.
The colorful dresses and flickering lights surrounding us all gave way, melting together in the periphery with gradual but uncompromising resolve; dissolving into darkness. And beyond this darkness, I cannot tell the tale.
Tale Told 