The Waltz of the Faceless

I never questioned my presence at this manor at the top of an icy peak landscape that I couldn't place. I found myself sitting in a row of chairs adorned with baroque reliefs in their wooden frames. The chairs were seemingly arranged at what I could only assume was the western end of the hall. The hall itself had walls of white marble with even whiter silk drapes covering up the windows. A silver chandelier hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room. Yet, despite how much light it produced, rest of the room's walls seemed clad in ominous darkness. Because of this, I could not estimate the size of the dance hall. Beyond the windows I could not see any remarkable features, only a starless night sky.

Next to me in the row of chairs which seemed to never end were men dressed in clothes as formal as my own. Each one of them wearing dark formal trousers with shiny leather shoes that seemed to reflect the light of the chandelier. Their jackets were of the same color and a pure white shirt lay under them. Each wore a sash of a different color, ranging from lemon-yellow to the deepest blue. Their cuff-links matching the cloth, resembling an official uniform which I wasn’t sure I matched. Fearing a deeper shame than being in a ball in a hall I could not place, I looked at my sash and cuff-links; they were jet-black.

As I composed myself and straightened my back, I looked at the men talking among themselves. The yellows, blues, reds and greens were talking within their colors. I looked at their faces and they seemed to be older the darker the color of their sash was. However, as I glanced at their faces one more time, the age I could estimate was the same, but the face itself had changed. Chalking it up to my confusion, I looked around for someone matching my sash, perhaps someone wearing grey, I found no one wearing such color.

It was then, sitting alone in my chair as the men talked with each other, when the piano started playing. I could place neither instrument or musician. The notes seemed to permeate the air and be inside of my own head at once. Like a roll call, every sliver of conversation ceased. The men turned their gaze toward the darkness of the other side of the hall. In total silence, except for soft piano notes, the men lined up. Grouping themselves again by color, and finally by shade, from lightest to darkest, from youngest to oldest.

As the piano played on, I saw I was the only one not lined up. I took my place at the rightmost end of the line next to the old man with the deep blue sash. As I stepped into what I could only assume was my place, the piano notes stopped and moved to a higher octave. Playing a more graceful melody. Suddenly, I heard steps coming from the dark side of the room. I looked back at the chairs, but instead of chairs I found the same darkness. Turning the hall into one endless dance floor.

The first woman to appear had a light-yellow dress and paired up with the light-yellow sashed man. The two went out to dance. While the piano notes played a waltz, they danced their way into the darkness. One by one, the men paired up with a woman wearing a matching dress. After a woman of similar age took the man in the deep blue sash out to dance, I was left alone. Standing in a white floor, enveloped by darkness while the ever-present waltz played. Finally, I heard steps coming from the darkness in front of me, and I saw her coming, my dance partner. Her skin was as white as snow and her dress as black as my very own sash. Her jet-black corset adorned with pearls and white lines that could only be outdone by the softness and weightlessness of her arms. I looked up to her face and saw it obscured by the same darkness that enveloped the room. I was stunned, but I tried to focus on the waltz being played, now with strings and a piano. I placed my left hand at her waist, and locked my right hand with her left.

Her hand was cold, yet our fingers interjected and with graceful steps we began to dance. I looked at her face every now and again and instead of darkness I saw uncertainty. I could estimate her age to be similar to mine. Her hair was short and light brown, her eyes were as blue as the ocean and her lips a crimson gloss. But, when I looked away and looked back, her face had changed, as had her hair and the color of her eyes. The strangest thing that I failed to consider, as I was lost to the dance, was that I had never been a good dancer, and hadn’t been to many balls that I could remember. But with that woman my step was as weightless as hers, my leading was precise and I could focus on nothing but her. The piece we were dancing to rose to a crescendo, and our movement was as intense yet as precious as it had ever been. No matter how much we danced to a side of the room, the floor never seemed to end and we never ran into any other people. But that did not matter to me now, I was lost to her beauty and I was being guided by the music.

As the omnipresent orchestra slowed down, so did our step. We finished standing still, in front of each other, left hand on her waist and right hand locked with her left. Her current face and eyes were staring at me, nothing else mattered. I did not care what had happened before the ball, or what would happen after. All that mattered was the moment I was in, madly in love, with a woman which I only shared a dance and whose beauty was ever changing.

There is absolute silence now, and I am standing in front of the lady in the black dress. I am afraid to look away now as I don´t want her to change while my sight leaves her. I am leaning in now, she responds, and as our lips are about to connect, I feel ecstasy and a fulfillment as I have never felt ever in my life. Me, a talent less failure, my life is peaking right now, I finally feel whole because she makes me whole. But now, the moment is over, both my hands feel empty, she is gone, I know it, but I don’t want to open my eyes and confirm it. There is no marble floor and walls, no silk drapes and no silver chandelier. There is nothing now, there are no faceless men and faceless women, only a slow, creeping darkness that envelops me. But I keep my eyes closed and try to hold on, try to keep the memory, try to keep the piece of me that lives within the face of the lady in the jet-black dress.