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Midnight Waltz

 

Midnight Waltz

Copyright 2015 Michael Huddlestone

Published by Michael Huddlestone at Shakespir

Shakespir Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Shakespir.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

Julianna struggled with the key. God dammit! She thought. Finally, it slipped into the front door’s deadlock. No sooner had metal click had announced its welcome she threw the door open, slamming it behind her as soon as she was inside. The day had taken its toll on her.

Dropping her bag to the floor, Julianna made her way to the kitchen. She didn’t care if everything from her bag had spilled out. She wanted desperately to shut out the world. Julianna wiped her damp eyes with the back of her hand.

Keep it together. She stood still in front of the refrigerator cupping her face in her hands. Two sobs had escaped before Julianna recaptured herself.

Too many memories.

The first day back at the office had not gone how she had expected. Perhaps too soon. It had only been a month since her husband John’s funeral. Her co-workers were just trying to be supportive, but still they stared at her. Struggling with what right words to say, they usually blurted out something that hit home harder than the pity look scrawled all over their face.

“I’m sorry for your loss…”

Loss… No. Not lost. Someone took him away from me.

“John was a wonderful man…”

Yes, I know he was, and now he’s gone. Thanks for reminding me.

All Julianna could do was make a half-hearted smile and thank them for their sympathy before making her way to her desk. She could still hear their whispers behind her back.

“I heard the guy who stabbed him got shot.“ Someone would say.

Now comes the stories.

“Yeah. The news report said he was some Irish Firebug. Apparently he burnt down two other houses there with the families inside before escaping the country.”

“Sick bastard.”

“John shot him before he made it three. The guy died instantly. John had died before paramedics got there.“

“Poor Julianna” The stories always finished with the two same words. Delivered with the same sympathetic tone.

As she pulled her hands down her the sides of her face, it felt as though she was stripping away the sense of utter loss that had begun to take its grip on her again.

Yes poor me. Opening her eyes, she stared at the fridge’s open door. Finding herself already with a bottle of red wine in hand. She poured in silence, filling it almost to the brim. Closing her eyes, she took a deep gulp. The red liquid burnt as it went down her throat.

Too much. Too quickly. Julianna didn’t care; she needed to drown out the world.

After refilling her glass, she made her way to the lounge room stopping midway. A slow passing car’s headlights penetrated the dark room. It became like a knife piercing her heart as it shone on the large photograph of their wedding day that hung on the wall. She used to love the photo. It was taken as they danced their first waltz as husband and wife.

Oh god, I miss him! The car drove away, and again the room fell into shadows. The waltz was the memory that replayed each time she closed her eyes to sleep. A treasured gift that now cut her deeply. They had begun dance lessons months prior to the wedding. John wanted it to be perfect for her. They laughed so much at those sessions. John with his two left feet and Julianna with no sense of rhythm. The time together bound them closer.

Oh, what a pair we made John. The small blue light on the stereo caught her attention, and an idea was born. Julianna gulped down quickly the last of the red wine setting the empty glass down on the coffee table as she made her way to the stereo.

Track 9. Always track 9. The deep rich tone of the double bass filled the room. The smooth timbre of the cello began to call her. Julianna’s hair brushed her shoulders as her body began to sway. The wine had made her feet feel light. They began to step to the rhythm of the violin as it joined the accompaniment. A single tear cascaded down Julianna’s cheek as she closed her eyes.

Visions of the tables draped with crisp white linen surrounded her as she swayed in the center of the room. Familiar smiling faces surrounded the dance floor. All stopped to watch her. The band played. She raised her hands up with the motion of the music, her white dressed flared out as she spun. A hand reached out catching her’s in mid-spin. It gently pulled her backward. She felt as though she was falling. Another hand caught her, pulling her easing her upright then pulling her close. Back to the arms of its owner. The golden vest stood out against the white shirt it covered. She lay her head on his shoulder as they waltzed.

“Ladies and Gentlemen… Mr and Mrs Carprio” Julianna smiled. The loud hum of a passing truck broke the trance. The room was once again dark and empty.

No, not yet. Just a bit more. Please.

Julianna grabbed the remote, turning up the volume before throwing it back to the lounge. She began her dance again.

Her red dress swayed from side to side as she moved. One, two, three. One, two, three. Julianna’s stepped in time. Her bare feet moved over the soft shag-pile mat. They had practiced so hard for that one moment. Their moment. It was perfect. He was perfect. She felt warm breath against the back of her neck. She stopped. Her eyes opened searching the darkness. Julianna breathed in. That smell. She knew it well.

“You’re here aren’t you?” Silence was her only answer. She smiled again. Dance with me darling. Julianna swayed her hips.

“You know I can’t resist those hips, Julianna.” John’s words from a time past echoed in her mind. She closed her eyes and continued to sway. A warm breath on her neck sent a shiver down her spine. The touch of body heat slowly moved around her waist as if she could feel his arms wrapping around her waist from behind her. She leaned back slightly feeling the same warmness close in behind her.

“I’ve missed you so much.” More tears rolled down her cheeks as she danced in the dark alone. A phantom touch brushed her cheek. She leaned into it feeling him as if he was there. She turned her head towards him. Julianna’s eyes remained close. A soft hotness pressed against her lips. A kiss she believed she would never have again. Memories flashed before her. Their first kiss in the front of his police station. Their first night together. The seal of marriage as he kissed his new bride.

Invisible hands caressed her body. Yes. The feeling departed leaving her with a tingling sensation over them

Don’t leave me, please. Juliana slid her hand over where she felt his arm around her waist. She could almost feel the hairs on his arms.

“I love you John” She quietly whispered over her lips. The phantom touch again stocked her face. The heat radiated more, becoming intense.

“Not… John…” A voice replied with a heavy Irish accent.

Sirens echoed up the streets. Bright red and blue flashing lights from the fire engine as it pulled into the driveway. Blurs of yellow rushed by as the firefighters ran to the house. Flames licked the walls from behind the windows. The first to the front door wielded an axe, smashing open the front door. A timber plaque fell from the wall to the ground reading the name of the owners: Carprio.

 

About the Author

I guess you would call me a hybrid.

A cross between a logical thinker and a creative dreamer; with a dark streak rippling just below the skin.

By day I swim neck deep in an ocean of numbers, data and code; by night I write. I am a horror writer who recently re-discovered his lost passion for writing.

I am a father of two, drawing my inspiration from the world around me and adding my own dark flavour to it. Looking to answer my own constant question of What If.

I am an avid follower the writings of Stephen King, Anne Rice, Dean Koontz, and PJ Tracy. I do enjoy a blend of horror and thriller genres. I am a proud member of the Townsville Writers & Publishers community.

My tastes in literature lie in those stories that send a shiver down your spine and cause you to check under your bed at night. Those tales that keep you on the edge of your seat waiting to see what happens next.

I am currently working on my first novel which I hope to have out in early 2016.

I appreciate you reading my story. Here are my social media coordinates:

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/hudkol

Visit my website: http://mhuddlestone.weebly.com/

Regards,

Michael


Midnight Waltz

  • Author: Michael Huddlestone
  • Published: 2015-10-21 13:50:07
  • Words: 1590
Midnight Waltz Midnight Waltz