The Twelve Chimes of Maligna Manor

Dancing in the Ballroom

Jamie's first thought, as he entered the ballroom, was of the last dance he had attended. It had been the harvest festival, and his uncle had once again barged his way into village tradition. He cleared out one of the barns and decorated them to accommodate the local teenagers. It had not been like this: adorned with the same floral patterns of gold, kitted with a fine bandstand and most of all; there had not been a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling taking up the space of Jamie's old bedroom.

Still, while it might have put that old barn to shame, it captured a strange feeling in Jamie that brought him right back there. He could almost see the large banner across the back, hear the overly loudspeakers blasting the Wurzels' combine harvester and through all that, he could see her.

That was particularly weird because he could see her right now as well, but, in that moment, it was as if she were both the woman in the jeans and hoodie before him now and the young girl in the pale pink dress she had been then.

Jamie was pleased to note that Maggie looked remarkably similar in both visions. Maggie was older now, obviously. Her face had the beginning of wrinkles in her cheeks and forehead. She was definitely skinnier than she had been before, and her face bore the scars of this place in her sunken eyes and thinner hair.

But all he had loved about that young girl was still there, and he felt great pain as he took it all in.

All in all, it seemed that time had been kind to Maggie. It had not been to him. He could not imagine that he measured up to the boy in the checked shirt she had seen at that party.

Maggie noticed him staring and he quickly averted his gaze. He was suddenly deep within himself, feeling every inch of his strange, twisted form. How could Maggie even stand to look at him? He certainly couldn't.

"Dancing at ten o'clock," Sara read off a small sign standing in the middle of the ballroom.

No sooner had she read this that a sound began to echo from the stage. It was the sound of footsteps making their way from the left-hand side of the stage to the centre. They stopped and there was a small cough. As the coughing seized, a small man could be seen apparating into view centre stage. He was a small, round man with a thin moustache and mid-parted hair oiled flat. He wore a fine tuxedo with impressive tails, and in his hand was a conductor's baton. He didn't appear suddenly, like Maligna always did, instead they seemed to gradually come into view as if tuning a television. Even when it seemed they had fully appeared, there was something translucent about him, as if his entire body was made of a pale green smoke.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the conductor said in a reedy Yorkshire accent, "we would like to welcome you to the Annual Maligna Ball."

Jamie jumped as there was suddenly a cacophony of cheers and applause which echoed around the room. As it did so, a crowd of similarly pale green people appeared all around. They were all dressed to the nines in elegant ball gowns and sharp suits, though whatever fancy colours they may have had in life were lost in their monochromity.

The conductor held out his hands, and the noise of the crowd died down.

"Thank you, thank you," he said, "And of course, it wouldn't be a Maligna Ball without the ballroom dance competition. The rules are simple. Our judges will be ever observant, and if your technique isn't up to snuff, then you will be out. The last couple dancing will win our grand prize."

Upon the stage, a small table appeared, and on it, clear as day, was a small silver key.

"Find your partners," said the conductor, "The competition is about to begin."