Twelfth Night Masquerade Flash Fiction Contest #No.1

The wonderful Meg McNulty has come up with a wonderful idea for a Flash Fiction Contest over on her site From Darcy to Dionysus, and I could not resist when I found this first picture on the Pinterst Board dedicated to it. (There was another, that will be coming soon).

Enjoy!

Elizabeth hadn’t expected to be invited, so when the postman rang the doorbell her stomach lept at the sight of the envelope; the gold filigree giving away the contents.  But when he produced a parcel from another sender, she was a little puzzled.

She found the contents enchanting; the mask and ballet shoes in her favourite colour, which matched her dress perfectly. But there was no note with it, or return address, so who had sent them to her?

The shoes were a perfect fit as she twirled around the lounge trying them out, remembering the steps she had learnt at the academy. Then a question came into her head and she stopped mid step, how did they know her size as well as the colour? 

Everyone at the academy knew purple was her favourite colour, there was no mystery there, but her shoe size was different; she could only think of a handful of people that might.

These thoughts slowed Elizabeth’s preparations, but not her excitement as she donned her petite tulle-bottomed dress that evening. The ballet shoes set it off perfectly, and she left her hair down to help the mask obscure her face.

          
As the taxi pulled away, leaving her at the steps to the great hall, butterflies took flight in her stomach. But she donned the mask, taking courage from its anonymity and joined the others making their way inside.

Feelings of apprehension were soon forgotten when Elizabeth found everyone inside was as concealed as she was. A sense of freedom took over as she agreed to dance upon dance with men she could only guess the identity of, due to speaking while dancing being strictly forbidden.

But then there was one who whispered in her ear and almost caused her to lose her footing. “Are they comfortable? I knew they’d look beautiful on your dainty feet.”

Elizabeth could only study the eyes and mouth of her masked dance partner; the hard black lines of intricate inlaid spirals obscuring most of his face and giving nothing away.

At the end of the dance he let her go without a word, moving away to engage with other guests. She stood bereft, still not recognising his manner, although there his carriage and stance were familiar. Who was he?

The next couple of dances she may as well have been floating for all the presence she gave her suitor; her mind gone, searching for a further clue to the identity of the man behind the black mask.

It was only during a dance where they had to change partners and he appeared in front of her again, that she returned. She searched his face with intent and curiosity and he smiled, whispering again, “I’ve always been here, you just never saw me before.”

And that was it; she knew and laughed out loud, letting him swing her round faster. And then, at the end, he swept her into his arms and she met his lips for a kiss.

499 Words