I keep dancing on my own

MELITA

With the festival came freedom, and Melita clung to it with every fiber of her being. She pranced and lingered on the sidelines, scouring through food stalls and games, until even those couldn’t contain her bountiful energy, and she was off again, racing amidst the opulence and finery. Her eyes passed waving banners and sun emblems, breathed, relished in the essence of the sun, the glow of warmth, the passing of the haunting decibels, the outcries, the mayhem, the distinction of horror on the horizon. The omens had been enough – she’d learned and understood all over again – tarnished and segmented back into reality.

But now it was enough to taste the horizon and skip along the cobblestones, scooping Fangorn into her arms, clutching him to her chest (ignoring the warning growls). She took in every sight, every sound, enamored and chaotic, before finally riveting her gaze upon the dancing area; cleared out to occupy groups and couples with their sweeping turns and fine waltzes. The music was a fine, melodic beat, and with little encouragement or hesitation, the girl and her companion proceeded along the floor – her feet cut a cute little jig, and she spun, holding Fangorn out into the wild wind she’d begun whipping up, the pumpkin gourd’s face altering through obvious delight but then transforming to abject fear. It seemed to depend on the current and the speed; she changed her course immediately, giggling with all the delight and ether of a lissome savage finally invited out into the fray.

On one of her twisting revolutions, she noticed Remi, though not alone, clustered with a child and unicorn (and the temptation to touch, to reach out, was incredibly strong – immediately enamored with the keen edge of horn and fine hairs of her coat). Thankfully her hands were occupied by her gourd partner, but she called out as she passed by in a ripple of bedlam movement and motion. “Happy Fiat Lux, Remi!”

This is a gift, it comes with a price
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?
Midas is king and he holds me so tight
And turns me to gold in the sunlight