Molding the Skin

This is part of a very rough short story. I know it's not perfect, and it's still incomplete. I've just had the idea in my head for a while. It's still not quite what I want it to be.

Haunting violin music floats through bubbling air. The couple twirls in the center, drunk  on the light. Her dress is flying out and dances quickly with the notes before drifting back to the girl. Whispers are in their ears leaking slowly down their spines like sweat, like spiders, like promises. The music is swelling with their laughter and they spin faster. The boy pulls her closer cackling over the screeching strings. Though the marble floor begins to crack and staunch white pillars crumble, the two dance through the night. Losing the steps and forgetting the rhythm they fall into each other's insides, and then they smell like blood. They taste it in their champagne. Red crystals adorn the satin, but the music keeps playing, and so they dance.
 
The orchestra wields their bows like swords. Cellos crash against jarring measures while the conductor flails his arms-- faster, he demands. His teeth flash white against the black of his face. His eyes strain to join the key. Insane violinists muster screams in their ranks, attacking the song with a forlorn malice, and the melody explodes in the air. It fights with steel and wrestles with lions. It does not die, but stumbles on rocking against the walls, fighting to escape.

Yet the two keep dancing, oblivious among the fairy dust of their hello. Golden light warms them, and as the music loses control their steps accelerate to meet the frenzy. Fingertips dig into skin and soon flecks of their flesh are falling in time with the beat. The two are crumbling, but fighting to match the tune-- desperately clutching their partner closer and propelling their limbs to keep the time. But the flesh is falling more quickly now, and skeleton fingers can find no purchase as their marrow disappears. So as the orchestra fights its war, the girl becomes the air, and the boy collapses into sound. The swirls of their desires stream in rivers of particles around the ballroom until the violinist drops his bow... and the hall is silent. 

Reviews

[Matty Bosox]

That was definitly different....When I was reading it I was reminded of a really twisted version of the dance between David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly in Labrynth....You definitly show your love for words although some parts were hard to make sense of I still got the grasp....And the erie way you describe the hardened madness of the orchestra is quite amazing....Great short and I think you have the potential to do way better in the future...

[Nidheesh Sankaran]

Ur description about dance n orchestra was gr8..... Nice thinkin...... But at some point i failed to understand the idea in it.....