It doesn't really have a title yet. First things first - ditch it, or keep working on it?
On that evening, the ballroom hosted what must have been two or three hundred people, dancing shoulder to shoulder with an almost disturbingly steady rhythm. James was never much of the socialite type, though; he preferred to sit outside on the stone-featured balcony and stare out into the harbour below, watching the tide crawl its way back in.
A woman sat down beside him. “Dance with me,” she cooed, gazing seductively at him from beneath a curtain of red hair.
She took his arm silently, and together they walked back inside.
She placed her hands on James’ shoulders, his grasping her white-silk-draped waist. And then instantaneously, it was if the world had stopped. The whole room froze; not one couple was left dancing.
“Excuse me… are you alright?” An older fellow asked, stepping forward cautiously.
“Why do you ask?” James responded, blissfully unaware.
The man’s eyes widened with fear. “Someone get the police.” He called.
Frantically, James looked all around for the woman, but she was nowhere to be seen.
“I’m not crazy. She was real. She must’ve been.” He muttered to himself.
He pressed his knees to his chest and looked around the room.
How long he would spend there was unknown. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t be that bad, because every second he was forced to look at the blindingly white walls surrounding him, he was reminded of her and her white silk dress. And he knew that somehow, she would never truly leave him.