Morbid Bite

VIII :: A Stolen Curse

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MORBID BITE

Chapter Eight :: A Stolen Curse

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

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The village was alight with lanterns and fires that burnt with a golden glow. Each road was full of people heading for the festival, every girl wearing their finest dress and every boy trying their best to impress the shy beauties. The small orchestra played slow music that every so often would go out of tune and the drunken pianist would begin to shout and bluntly state he thought he was too good to be there. A half-empty bottle sat on the corner of his piano from which he would take a swig every now and then. Young men danced with their chosen partners. Most of the people were simple farm owners and the men who toiled alongside them. Among the dancers were factory workers, both men and women, people Belle had never socialised with.

The sound of laughter and the melodies from the music were the first thing Belle heard as the horse cantered over the top of the hill. She felt a small smile creep over her face, but she tried her best not to let Raoul see it; she didn't want him to feel any more arrogant than he already did. The bitter wind was lost on her bare shoulders, her mind buzzing and the energy that surrounded her and kept back the cold.

As Raoul's horse sped down the hill at a heart racing speed. Belle felt her lose hair sprawl back around her face and the sound of the festival grew louder by the second. The horse slowed as they passed the first house, two elderly women sat out the front. The two women said nothing, but their shocked faces grew starker at the sight of each single woman.

As Belle and Raoul got closer to the centre it became impossible for the huge horse to fit through the narrow allies full of people. Raoul suggested she dismount while he found a place to tie up the shire horse. He was not gone long and before Belle had time to take another deep breath they entered into a world she had never experienced.

Out of all the dances and social occasions she had attended, none of them were like this. The people may have had little money but the happiness they radiated flowed through the atmosphere. Belle felt connected to everyone here. There were no stale conversations, no judgment and no disconnected gossip of the rich.

Market stalls were scattered around the outsides of the dance floor selling cheap clothing and in season fruit and barrels of wine that had a constant stream of customers. Belle watched the couples holding hands and the young children running around in fits of laughter. The freezing spring evening could not penetrate the heat of the dance. A warm hand was suddenly placed on her cold skin and she spun around in surprise; Raoul stood behind her, but his eyes were concentrated on the group dance that had just started. He reached for Belle's hand and pulled her into the centre without asking.

The bourrée dance picked up speed and Belle became out of breath as she spun around in the arms of many a man. Her cheeks burnt with the over use of her smile mussels. But they hurt the most when she had Raoul's arms around her waist. Everything was forgotten and all she could hear was the slamming hands of the pianist and the tired arms of the violinists. A dream, she thought, this was true entertainment - her sisters would die of disapproval. This thought brought a beam to her tired features, doing something so reckless and scandalous was more fun than she could have imagined.

The group began to clap along to the beat and so both herself and Raoul joined in. He did not smile, but Belle had gotten used to this. His solemn face would have looked wrong with a smile. It suited him, she thought, if he held a smile he would have been not been himself.

Raoul turned his gaze back to Belle and as he noticed her staring she felt her face turn an even darker shade of pink. Belle had not noticed him watching her only moments before.