Dancing Tempests
This topic was created in the Writing ✍️ forum by Virgoddess on Tuesday, February 6, 2007 and has 3 replies.
This is the first time I've posted any writing online, so be gentle with me. This story was a little intense to write, but it was inspired by an equally intense painting by Jack Vettriano http://www.vettriano-art.com/thesingingbutler.html
The wind blew heavily as they danced, carrying the salty scent of the sea on its back. The groans of wooden beach houses in the distance reverberated along the shore, threatening to collapse under the force of the gale.
And still they danced. The levies had broken; the people were fleeing. And on they danced.
"Madame et Monsieur!" called a voice in the far foggy distance. "You must leave now! The levies have broken! The city will flood! We must evacuate!" hearing no response from the couple, the man ran closer, his shoes fighting the pull of the thick sand, his umbrella pulling him forcefully in the other direction like a minion of the wind. Yet the couple seemed not to notice his approach. The young man, in black coat tails, held the woman firmly, leading her expertly in a waltz. They were neither pushed nor pulled nor unsettled by the weather, and their feet glided easily over the wet sand, as if they were dancing on a marble floor. They whirled like dervishes, lost in the passionate momentum of their waltz. The woman violently flung her head from side to side as they twirled, like an exclamation mark emphasizing each movement of their bodies.
The man approached the couple, calling out to them. They were barely visible through the torrents of rain pouring in sheets around them, but as he drew nearer, and their figures became clearer, he saw to his amazement that their faces were still a blur. They had not noticed him because they had no eyes with which to see. They had not heard him because they had no ears with which to hear. He reached out to them in a tactile plea for their safety, but they continued their dance, twirling right through his outstretched arm.
With that, the man fled ? both from the storm and the incorporeal dancers. He ran with a fear matching the fury of the gale. He ran with a speed matching the grace of the dancers. The raindrops stung his face as they drove like bullets towards the ground. The storm was all around him; it was inescapable. Each crack of thunder roared its fury. Each cloud had a smiteful wrath, which threatened to devour him whole. The sand beneath his feet had a deadly force of its own, pulling him back, entrapping him in its cement-like grasp.
Finally he coul
The wind blew heavily as they danced, carrying the salty scent of the sea on its back. The groans of wooden beach houses in the distance reverberated along the shore, threatening to collapse under the force of the gale.
And still they danced. The levies had broken; the people were fleeing. And on they danced.
"Madame et Monsieur!" called a voice in the far foggy distance. "You must leave now! The levies have broken! The city will flood! We must evacuate!" hearing no response from the couple, the man ran closer, his shoes fighting the pull of the thick sand, his umbrella pulling him forcefully in the other direction like a minion of the wind. Yet the couple seemed not to notice his approach. The young man, in black coat tails, held the woman firmly, leading her expertly in a waltz. They were neither pushed nor pulled nor unsettled by the weather, and their feet glided easily over the wet sand, as if they were dancing on a marble floor. They whirled like dervishes, lost in the passionate momentum of their waltz. The woman violently flung her head from side to side as they twirled, like an exclamation mark emphasizing each movement of their bodies.
The man approached the couple, calling out to them. They were barely visible through the torrents of rain pouring in sheets around them, but as he drew nearer, and their figures became clearer, he saw to his amazement that their faces were still a blur. They had not noticed him because they had no eyes with which to see. They had not heard him because they had no ears with which to hear. He reached out to them in a tactile plea for their safety, but they continued their dance, twirling right through his outstretched arm.
With that, the man fled ? both from the storm and the incorporeal dancers. He ran with a fear matching the fury of the gale. He ran with a speed matching the grace of the dancers. The raindrops stung his face as they drove like bullets towards the ground. The storm was all around him; it was inescapable. Each crack of thunder roared its fury. Each cloud had a smiteful wrath, which threatened to devour him whole. The sand beneath his feet had a deadly force of its own, pulling him back, entrapping him in its cement-like grasp.
Finally he coul
Finally he could take no more. He surrendered to its strength. His knees were weak and he collapsed onto the sand as if bowing to its might. The sand stretched out endlessly before him, behind him, interrupted only by the tumultuous ocean beside him. The elements around him were as vast as he was weak against their attack, and in his last moments he felt the reality of his insignificance. He exhaled his final breath reluctantly, like the offering of a white flag.
And still, in the distance, they danced ? unaffected, unperturbed by the persistence of the storm, or its indiscriminant destruction. If anything, the rage of the tumult only spurred the passion of their dance. With every click of the man's heels, a bolt of lightening sliced through the sky like a dagger into the heart of the clouds. The faster the two spun in their dance, the more heavily the clouds bled, sending torrents of water, entire oceans it seemed, crashing down upon the Earth. Each time he dipped her in his arms, another levy broke. They and the storm were one, carried by the same force. They shared a solemn beauty, the stiff confidence of gods, and a violent passion, which made them invincible - supernatural in their might. They flung the elements from their heels, and incurred destruction with their movement, leaving only devastation in their wake.
And still, in the distance, they danced ? unaffected, unperturbed by the persistence of the storm, or its indiscriminant destruction. If anything, the rage of the tumult only spurred the passion of their dance. With every click of the man's heels, a bolt of lightening sliced through the sky like a dagger into the heart of the clouds. The faster the two spun in their dance, the more heavily the clouds bled, sending torrents of water, entire oceans it seemed, crashing down upon the Earth. Each time he dipped her in his arms, another levy broke. They and the storm were one, carried by the same force. They shared a solemn beauty, the stiff confidence of gods, and a violent passion, which made them invincible - supernatural in their might. They flung the elements from their heels, and incurred destruction with their movement, leaving only devastation in their wake.
Virgoddess: This is a very well written piece of work. I love the descriptives the most and one in particular;(a bolt of lightening sliced through the sky like a dagger into the heart of the clouds. The faster the two spun in their dance, the more heavily the clouds bled,)...very very good. Also you kept my attention with a bit of the macabre.
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