The exercise:
Today's starter is Dictionary.com's word of the day: soiree.
Mine:
I have prepared all year for this one night. The guest list is impeccable, the food beyond compare, the wine pairings are as perfect as my wife's red gown.
The violinist is hitting every note, the pianist's fingers are a study in melodic harmony. They are two of the most beautiful musicians money can buy.
The candles cast artful shadows while revealing the subtle beauty of the marble statues placed discreetly around the dining hall. Servants flow in and around and out the room like black and white ghosts.
The polished oak of the dance floor stands ready for the after dinner festivities of waltzes and tangos. We have practiced our steps for months, Grace and I; we are ready to be the talk of the town. The moonlight shall be our spotlight at exactly 9:05 pm.
Everything is going exactly to plan; not a hair out of place, not an empty glass, not a spot of dirt to be found. Everything is perfect.
So why is no one talking?
2 comments:
Ah, the night had finally arrived and I looked forward to it eagerly. At last I would take my rightful place in society.
This was the moment I had been waiting for.
Nothing had been overlooked, everything was planned out to the last, minute detail. I couldn't afford to have mistakes tonight, I'd terrorized the event planner for the last few weeks making sure that things would flow smoothly.
I looked around, smiling to myself about how perfect everything looked. Crisp linens covered the tables, savoury appetizers set out on top of them. The champagne fountain was impossibly elegant nestled against the grand ice sculpture. Bottles of the best wines waited to be opened and beside them sparkling glasses waited to be filled.
Truly I had outdone myself. There was no stopping me now. The doorbell rang and I drew a deep breath. I opened the door and my eyes widened with shock when I saw who stood there.
Heya Yuri, glad you stopped by! I hope to see more of your writing here :)
Enjoy summer for us down there...
Post a Comment