I was invited to a masked ball. It was a special masked
ball, only for invited guests.
To get to the ball, I had to pass through a section of the
woods, where all the trees were blackened and leafless. The
constant mist that wafted through between the trees tickled
my nose with an eerie aroma. I thought there was a swamp
nearby, but I kept my thoughts to myself. My long, black
overcoat started to get soggy at the bottom lapel, so I
hunched it up and moved at a brisker pace. After some time
has passed, I saw her for the first time.

At first all I could see was a silhouette across the setting
sun's skyline, moving gracefully through the sparse
undergrowth. I could swear my vision was blurred for I could
not even see clearly whether the unknown figure was male or
female. I started walking towards the figure when I noticed
the large overcoat over a dress the figure was wearing, so I
figured it was one of the female guests coming for the ball.
Not wishing to be rude, as the woman was travelling all
alone in a setting, and frankly speaking, creepy forest, I
started moving towards her. However, she managed to match my
speed, pace for pace and soon she moved quicker than me! A
gentleman can walk, but never run, so I was satisfied in
following the strange woman until I met up with her at the
ball.

I reached the ball's premise, a gigantic house, built a long
time ago by some now forgotten monarch of some long extinct
country. The house was magnificent, more a mansion than a
mere large house, with large, spacious rooms and quite
intriguing architecture. I stood outside the building
admiring the quite beautiful facade, and as I looked up, my
gut was telling me I would have an interesting time in
there.

I pulled out my invitation and entered the mansion. The
entry hall was simply exquisite, with its carved wooden
walls and the special crystal lampshades hanging from the
ceiling every so often. I was admiring a carved bronze frame
of a mirror by the entrance when the man who received the
invitees hurried me along because he claimed I was holding
up the hall and interfering with the flow of guests. I moved
along reluctantly, vowing to go back to the hall and examine
all the little artifacts nestled in special sconces, or laid
out on special tables. I was sure that a guest on any normal
day would be allowed to wander the hall for a long time,
admiring the items in view. I thought to myself, that a
place with such an entry hall surely must have some quite
interesting things inside!

I entered the mail hall. I could literally feel my jaw drop
as I watched all the people inside, in their colorful
getups, all with masks of various designs, either chatting
or dancing. The mail hall was simply incredibly large. I
felt that they could have fitted twice as many people inside
comfortably. The person who built this house certainly had
illusions of grandeur. Maybe he had all the right to, I
could not tell. And as I mingled in the crowd, greeting
some, ignoring others, and managing to correctly estimate
the identities of most of the people in the spacious room, I
looked above at the fantastic mural painted on the ceiling.
It was vibrant and vivacious, but yet it looked like the
person who painted it was sad, the scenery depicted seemed
so tragic. I lowered my gaze downwards and kept moving
through the crowd towards a corner I thought empty, where I
could discreetly gaze upon the people in the room. As I
neared my chosen spot, I saw her for the second time.

At first I did not recognize her, but then I identified the
silhouette as she walked a few paces to the side to lift a
small, fluted dainty glass off a waiter's tray. I crept
closer as I examined her. Her coat was off, obviously, and I
could admire her dress. It was long, black and flowing. She
was the only person in the room dressed nearly completely in
black. Her strapless dress was made from soft-looking lace
and silk, enhanced by a constrictive bustier or corset,
which looked built into the dress. It all emphasized her
already voluptuous figure and bountiful frontal
proportions.

I myself am a man who has seen much, but I could not however
stop myself from admiring this woman. There were many other
women in the ball, some of them could even be more
beautiful, but none have caught my attention as directly and
abruptly as her. Her hair was a flowing black mass of
straight hair, streaked with crimson. Her face was covered
in a simple white porcelain mask, maybe an intentional
contradiction, maybe a clue. The lips of the mask were
painted as crimson as the streaks in her hair, and she had
an embroidered pattern of a rose on her left breast
covering- of the same red color. She was simply one of the
most beautiful creatures I have seen to this date. But in
spite of my tactless gawking, she did not seem to notice.
Her arms were inside long opera gloves that covered her up
to the elbow, but oddly her fingers were not covered by the
gloves. As I moved a step closer I could see that her gloves
were covered in a pattern of spider webs, not inherently
obvious unless you stepped a bit closer and had a look.

She turned to me, as if finally noticing I was staring at
her. I swallowed hard and reflexively turned my head so she
will not catch me in such an awkward position, but I knew
she knew. I swallowed a drink I had in my hand, and I have
no idea how the drink came to be in my hand, but
nevertheless, I swallowed it in one gulp. I was masked only
by a mask covering the upper half of my face, so I had no
trouble drinking. She had to move her mask forward, it was
the kind of masks that were secured to the head by a small
thin string. I could see that hers had a string that matched
her hair color, making it seem as if her mask was glued to
her head. I admired the ingenuity but then came to realize I
was staring at her again. I looked her in the eyes then, and
saw their color for the first time. They were deep brown
eyes that in certain angles seemed to be as red as the rose
on her dress, or the color of the lips on the mask. I
swallowed hard but kept my stance and was unmoving, as if
frozen to stone by the gaze of Medusa herself. Finally,
after a moment that seemed eternal, I took a pace towards
her. I did not know who this woman was. Suddenly, I just had
this primal urge to find out who she was.

So I neared her side, slowly but surely, until we came face
to face directly, my simple purple mask versus her gleaming
white visage, and said to her: ''Hello my lady, would you
care for a dance?''

I did not expect an answer, but I saw her eyes examining me
critically, and I think I saw her cheeks move, but behind
the mask I could not tell whether she was smiling, or
frowning.