A Night to Remember

A Night to Remember

By Melisa Lynn

 

In the light of the moon, I strode outside into the cool air, goose bumps forming up and down my bare arms. My eyes closed and I breathed deeply through my nose, the fresh scent of roses clouding my mind. I let it erase the sound of the classical instruments floating out through the big double doors behind me. The high-pitched twittering voices of the women, and the low, booming voices of the men blew away into the night.

 

I hate these old fashioned balls. I hate the big, poofy dresses, and the painful high-heels. My mom and I had argued for hours over them. No one was going to see my feet anyway, so what was the point of wearing them? I hate the music, too. It’s way too dull and boring. And the people, gosh, the people are the worst. They’re absolutely the most ungrateful, shallow, aristocratic jerk faces I’ve ever met in my entire life. But I know I have to put up with them anyway. I have no choice in the matter.

 

I sighed. I walked down the garden path, admiring the twinkling lights hanging from the trees. I heard the trickle of water from the fountain. I turned a corner and was amazed at the sight.

 

The gazebo was aglow with millions of more twinkling lights. Red roses and English Ivy grew around the posts and along the railing. A circle in the middle of the floor spun slowly.

 

I walked up the stairs of the gazebo, staying on the outer rim, away from the moving floor. I paused near a particularly beautiful rose. My hand came up to touch the delicate looking petals with my fingers. I had to admit; whoever grew this knew what they were doing.

 

"The rose is indeed very beautiful."

 

I jumped at the unexpected voice behind me, and turned around quickly.

 

The man standing there was very tall, his black suit stretched tight across his broad shoulders. His black hair was so long it touched his shoulders, and his eyes were a deep golden brown with long black lashes framing them. When he smiled, two dimples appeared on his cheek.

 

"What?" I gasped, still shaken from his unexpected appearance.

 

"The rose is very beautiful," he said, "but not as lovely as you."

 

"Oh," I blushed, flattered.

 

"What’s your name?" he asked.

 

"G-Genesis," I stammered.

 

"My name is Sebastian," he said, bowing and holding out his hand. I placed my hand in his.

 

He brought it to his lips. "It’s a pleasure."

 

"Same." The feel of his lips on me made my skin tingle.

 

He straightened, his hand still clasping mine. "Would you care to dance, my fair lady?"

 

"But… There’s no music."

 

"So?" He pulled me onto the spinning part of the floor, holding me gently in his arms as we

began to dance. It was one of the best moments of my entire life.

 

Later, I was strolling through the hallways of the Pine Anne Palace that my parents had rented for the ball, looking at portraits of people who had once lived here, and I saw a painting of a familiar looking man. He had black hair that touched his shoulders, deep golden brown eyes, and dimples in his cheeks as he smiled. I looked at the plaque below the painting, my heart racing. It read:

 

Sebastian Charles (1734-1755), founder of Pine Anne Palace, killed himself in the garden where the present-day gazebo now stands, unable to live after his beloved, Genesis Palmer, drowned in Lake Anna two months prior.

 

I felt myself ready to faint as I saw the portrait next to it. It was a painting of a girl…. And she looked exactly like me. I forced myself to look at the plaque below her.

 

Genesis Palmer (1737-1755)

 

I quickly looked back at the portrait of Sebastian, the realization sinking into every bone in my body. I screamed.

 

I swear he winked at me.

Author's Note

I wrote this for my audition for the school writing program I'm in now. Obviously it was good enough. :)