Flash Fiction Friday (49)

Dottie over at Tink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate you post your story on Friday - 350 words, give or take.

I have to thank Blodeuedd at Book Girl of Mur-y-Castell for introducing me to this fun meme. I don't know if I'll be able to keep up with every week, but I'll give it a try from time to time.

The Image This Week:

(artist unknown)

Story by:  Melissa

She breezed past his discarded his short and shoes carelessly tossed to the corner of the decorative marble floor.  Sweat sleeked his back, down his thin muscled chest as he leaped and danced across around the hall when she arrived.  Her pink essence mixing with the fog.  She keeps the fog to the edges of the hall, then not containing herself any long, creeps along the floor filling till the circles of marbles aren't visible to the human eye, trying to get close enough to touch him.  Slipping around him as he runs, spins, leaps, and stretches the length of the hall she could see the emotions warred across.  Such emotion exposed on his face and in his movements.

It'd been to long since he had moved this way, but his body was still lithe with the corded muscles of a young dancer.  He'd not lost his aplomb through the years, evident at the allegro of his dance and the perfectly paused, accented moments.  He never tipped or stumbled.  The attitude was perfect, his knee bent accented by the mystery hidden in his long cotton pants, his arms posed for a breath.

It'd been to long since she had touched him too.  The way her life ended, he didn't deserve her touch.  She spent years learning to control her essence and moving solid mundane items.

His eyes where closed and this was her moment, for revenge.  She swirled her pink tinted essence about forming the long lean body of what she remembers.  As he came to a pause in his movement, arms coming around, she slipped in front of him, flush to his chest.  The swirling dragging her lace behind her with one arm over his shoulder to his back and his around her waist.  She leaned in for that long missed kiss.  His eyes never opened, he probably thought he was dreaming.  But before their lips met, he gasp, his eyes opened with a snap looking into her smile.

She pulled her hand from behind his back with the red dripping dagger in hand.

The breeze whistled through the hall in his ears.  It sounded like her voice, "And you thought you were done with me...."

He collapsed to the floor sucking the air and blanketing moist fog into his cramped lungs.

Was it revenge, or was it desire?  It didn't matter, she had him with her, for torment or pleasure, or maybe both.