Collection of One-Shots

》last dance

"Edith," the voice is gentle, calling her name into the lonely night. The house is no more, it had been demolished as no one wanted such a place marring the Cumberland countryside. Allerdale Hall was no more, but he still remained. Wandering through the night in hopes to see the fair head of hair, the porcelain skin, and bright eyes. Those eyes that were filled with adoration and naiveté. Though one night is not like the rest.

The widowed Edith had moved on in her life in many senses, only she could not let go of the mysterious stranger who had asked her hand in marriage, who, in the end had helped save her life and Alan's. Dr. McMichael had married and now maturity was settling in for both the two longtime friends.

Edith had published several novels in her lifetime, all under the penname of E.C. Sharpe; the world did not think her to be a woman and so there was no ridicule of her books. Of the haunting romances and ghosts symbolized the pasts, like a shadow that even light could not destroy. She had done well enough, though in her frailty the widow had signed everything she owned over the Alan and his children as his wife had passed in recent years.

It had become a habit of sorts for Edith to wander off, people would see her in the graveyard, sitting on a bench near her mother and father's tombs. Even in the chill of the Buffalo winter she still came to visit. Her mind consistently lingered with everything that had occurred in her past, everything that had shaped her into who she was today. It was common for her to contemplate such times, especially before beginning a novel.

Now she was not starting a novel, but she was ready to write the final sentences of her own book. The last chapter had already come and it was time for the final lines to be written. The townspeople worried for her in her age when she would go alone to the bench, they did not hinder her from going though. It was a winter day, like so many other days she had seen, and with her aged hands she picked up the skirts of the pale gown. The silk material slipped through her fingers and hung off her body in ways that made it look like a completely different dress than when she had truly met him.

Clearing off a small area on the snow-covered bench she sat. Her hands clasped in her land, eyes closed. She could remember the sight of the rotting halls, the caving roof, and sinking floors. The piano that always seemed to have a player. She remembers the sight of the red clay turning the pure snow nearly the color of blood and the hidden secrets that the mansion held.

But above all she remembers him. The way his eyes would shine when he spoke of his inventions, how he spoke her name like it was a sacred prayer. Even the tender way he kissed her and caressed her cheek. Edith smiled fondly at the memories and brought her hand to her cheek, still feeling the warmth of his touch. "Thomas."

When Edith opens her eyes, he is there. His hand rests upon her cheek and hers is atop his, but he pulls his hand back and extends it for her to take. Only when she places her hand in his, there is no wrinkles, no prominent veins protruding from the back of her hand. Her skin is youthful again and the dress fits like it did that night all those years ago. Her breath hitches when she looks into his eyes.

"Would you be mine?" Edith looks at him closer, there is no blood on his face, nor is there any on his clothing. He looks as he did the first time they met, not how she had last seen him before leaving Allerdale Hall.

"I am," Thomas smiles, his hand poised just beneath her chin to lift it so she looks at him. He kisses her then and it feels as if he has had to wait a lifetime for this moment. To have her back in his arms. To know that she is well again, that age can no longer bring her body harm.

"Are you ready for our dance?" Edith nods and slips her hand into his. The room is alight with the gentle flickering of candles and they move to and fro as the two dance past them, making circles around the room to the sound of a piano. It was like the first time they had danced, only they were no longer strangers. Their faces are flushed when the song comes to an end and Edith looks up to him, her hand touching his face. He is solid, he is real, and he is here. Her smile is gentle when she realizes that now everything will be fine.

Alan searched as night fell for Edith, fearing for her health though he was in no better shape himself. After learning she was not in the library or in her study for writing he knows where she has gone. The graveyard. And true enough, she is there, her frail form laying on the bench, only a thin coat draped over her shoulders. But she is smiling.