the dance

The dancers moved around each other, trailing dark red lines shining brightly in the light from the many braziers, trailing glowing sparks in spirals around the shapes moving at their centre. The dancers’ bodies glistened with the birght, orange glow of the flames, iluminating a small pocket of the warm summernight. Hearts beating with the fervent beat of the huge drums, breath following the softer tunes of flutes, feet thumping to the blast of violins. The sombre spectators watching, attended by silent, dark servants with oiled skin and light, silken and only slightly opaque clothing.

the Belltower

The giant bell atop the tower sent out a deep, reverberating sound that spread out across the twilit landscape. The deep tone surged down the slopes of the ancient tower billowing forth through the rotting, crumbling stone buildings that stretched out from the tower for miles. The silence followed like water, closing in on the dead landscape. Another toll. The rhythm continued like it had for millennia. Undisturbed. The bell’s toll was like a heartbeat in a rotting corpse. The landscape was dead quiet except for the bells bellow. Somehow, ages beyond counting since the last inhabitants set foot on this earth, no other life had settled in. No animal set foot within the humongous city ruins. Not even the foolishness of men had led to ventures into the bells domain.