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Icicles hang from the entrance
like daggers waiting to fall.
He pulls her along behind him
into the dimly lit room.
The icy walls reflect the flickering candles
in shimmering flashes.
A grumbling melody ominously fills the air,
providing a slow-paced song for the audience's dance.
She looked around and saw the outlines
of dancing figures,
their faces just out of view.
He took her hand and slowly twirled her,
giving her a full view of the bare room.
Half-empty shelves line the wall,
ice glimmering from all directions.
He pulls her back to him
and begins a waltz in the shadow of the room.
Her feet mechanically stepping with his,
mimicking his moves.
He swung her around,
leaning her slowly backwards.
She tilted her head back,
looking to the low ceiling.
A cracked mirror,
icicles dangling precariously through the open spaces,
looked down on them.
She looked to the other faces in the room,
all expressionless and blank.
He pulled her up
and danced her closer to the crowd
and the small source of light.
drained of color and energy,
Once you start to dance,
he whispered with a malicious smile
spreading across his face,
you dance until you die.
Until the rosy puddles on your cheeks fade
and the vivid twinkle in your eyes glaze over.
You're stuck here,
in our dance of death.
She tried to pull her hand away from his,
but her hand would not separate from his decaying hand.
She saw the depressions in his cheeks
his thin lips,
and colorless eyes.
The scream rising in her throat escapes as a humming
to the monody echoing through the wall.
Unable to detach from the song,
dancing to an inescapable terror,
the laughter of death.
She twirled to see a young man
led in by a pale, emotionless girl.
His eyes too distracted by the shimmering ice
to notice Death as he claims another soul.