Danse Macabre

The music was starting to play all over the castle. France shone under the stars after going through one of its hardest moments in History - the battle against the Plague. Little by little, the streets of Paris were getting their luminosity and colours back, and the corpses of the last victims of the sickness were driven out of the city to be cremated, so their souls could rest in peace. And that, above everything else, was a reason to celebrate. Camilla Saens was in her room, getting ready for the big feast that awaited her. The light of the candlesticks allowed her to see everything almost perfectly in the mirror, and that way she could control what happened behind her back. Sometimes she looked for the spirits and ghosts of the sick, hoping that they would get scared when they saw she felt their presence.The truth was that Camilla was terrified of the dark. Ever since the disease started to spread, she had lived among her four walls, that she thought protected her from evil. She feared God ́s wrath so much that the only path she took everyday was from her chambers to the little chapel inside the palace. Her only human contact had been with her maids and her father. When the priest that celebrated mass died, she had secured herself more - she even gave up on having communion. One day, her maid Natalie fainted while she was serving dinner, and she had had a terrible panic attack about it. But seeing her quick recovery she welcomed her back into her service, feeling like she needed the company. It was common knowledge that once you got over the illness, it couldn’t spread anymore. At least that was what physicians said. But now, everything was over, and she thanked God for that. Camille could hear men gathering in the courtyard, their voices loud and joyful, laughing their way into her home. She was brushing her hair carefully, as it was the first time she would leave her room in months. She rested her arms for a moment. The effort she made braiding her hair was tiring. She looked at the mirror and saw her face, noticing small things - the dark circle under her eyes catching all the attention compared to her overall whiteness, and the little red stain on her cheeks. The rice powder couldn’t cover her state, neither it could hide her concern and fear. But the nightmares were over now. She took the hairbrush again and faked a smile, that the mirror reciprocated.

She closed her eyes for a second and started hearing the drums in the distance. It wasn’t the first time she did. Drums and laughter. Strange music came from somewhere far away. The music was not cheerful, but a series of sinister chords played with anger as if Judgement Day was approaching Camille. Her breathing became irregular - spasmodic - and she stared deeply into the mirror. “Everything will be alright.” She told herself. The drums were now approaching, and the lutes played an ironic melody about the end of the world. They appeared from the windows like ghosts - dozens of dancing skeletons, whose bones set the pace of the atrocious tunes. Camille opened her eyes wide and turned around, hypnotized, to witness the scene play. Her bedroom became the most macabre party ever held. One of the skeletons approached the young lady and invited her to dance with the group. Its empty eyes penetrated in her brain and made her heart shudder. She accepted the hand and suddenly felt as she was falling in a deep sleep, full of fantasies. Chaos took over the room. Camille's dress floated with the dance steps, and the volume kept increasing, voices inside her acting like a potion against an unknown pain. Some of them sang and jumped on the bed, others opened trunks and wardrobes and threw her clothes and books away. Camille desperately tried to stop them, but the cry for help didn’t seem to get out of her throat. The skeletons kept dancing and mocking Camille, but all at once, everything fell quiet. The Emperor was coming. And with him the most dismal of melodies, sung by the court behind him. Emperor, your sword won't help you out Sceptre and crown are worthless here. I've taken you by the hand, For you must come to my dance. Every creature stopped dancing, as the supernatural being pointed at Camille with his sword. She stood still, observing him. Face to face, skin against bone, they both saw the universe in each other’s eyes. In the void where the Emperor's eyes should have been, Camilla perceived the darkness she was sinking in with every sound of the instruments. The Emperor saw the broken will of the young child, begging to enter the kingdom of the dead as soon as possible.

The Emperor held out his hand. The melody started again, this time rushing in her ears, making a deafening sound that confused Camille. In a moment of weakness, she gave in and fell at the feet of Death. She coughed, being short of breath, and covered her mouth in shame. When she withdrew the hand, she saw little carmine dots spreading through her skin. It couldn’t be. Not her. The Plague had ended, and she had been locked up to avoid it. Her brain worked fast, trying to find an answer to the blood she was seeing. Didn't the maid die from the disease last month? No, she survived. Terrified, she stared at Death again in the eye (ask for help) - the Emperor of Hell locked his eyes with hers, with a crooked smile. The last thing Camille saw from the world of the living was her mirror, that no longer reflected the dancing skeletons. It showed a young woman whose life escaped from her hands, as she was hugged by the spirit (escort me to your world, for I am ready to depart). Complete silence reigned over the room.