A Dance in the Moonlight

By Emily, age 15

The picnic was on the roof of the car park. There were a few cars and shopping trolleys abandoned across the pavement, bathed in grey. The space was illuminated in a milky glow with no apparent source, blurring the slant of the walls reaching into the sky. The moon's tantalising touch stroked the contours of the cars, yet not a single pearl gleamed along any side of the polished metal.

A pale figure moved towards me, carried by long, white billowing sheets that swam through the air, lifting and falling as they glided closer. I already knew it was Her, the feeling growing stronger as she drew closer and spun around me. The featureless plane of her face was pressed up against mine, though I felt no contact...

Maybe she was holding my hands as we spun; I thought I could perhaps feel some heat against my fingertips, but either way, we spun. And faster too, though it was a calming sort of spin with the greyness of the parking lot bleeding into the moon's gentle glow.

The spinning soon turned erratic, and the moon's light lost its pale wash, splitting into bursts of bright light, which slashed broken cracks across her porcelain face. Our spinning felt jagged, like she was loosening her grip (or maybe I was) but we continued to whirl around and even faster now too. I wanted to stop, to leave, but I also wanted to stay and enjoy this blissful grey. I knew this would be the last time I saw Her if I slipped away...