A short story
A magnificent wall flower was what she was, forgotten but beautiful. She stood by a pillar in the huge ball room, her hands clasped in front of her. She wore a black ruffled dress with red ribbon lining the neck line. It was a long dress with short sleeves that revealed the skin on her back. Her auburn hair framed a face of no emotion; dark emerald eyes gazing out at an unknowing crowd. They danced joyfully, feet swaying to the music.
Her eyes caught the sight of a tall, lanky man in a black tux that she knew all too well. His hair was dark brown and a bit messy, and his eyes a hazel brown. He walked slowly with his hands in his pockets. He looked over from the crowd he had been staring at, his eyes making contact with hers. His bored expression changed instantly, a grin creeping its way onto his face.
With long strides he made his way over to the wall flower, stopping in front of her, blocking her view of the crowd. Lifting one eyebrow, she gave him a questioning look.
With a grin still plastered on his face and his hand held out, he said, "I don't think we've ever met, but would you care to dance with me?"
Silently, she took his hand and they went to the dance floor. The musicians started to play a new song. This one took a darker form, and as the two danced they looked into each others eyes, emerald to hazel.
As they danced, a small smile made it's way onto the girls face, a gentle expression towards her dancing partner.
Nearing the end of the song, the man finally dared to break the silence.
"May I ask what your name is?"
Putting her lips near his ear, she whispered, "Lottie," softly.
He froze, the world around them seeming to disappear. He remembered that name. He remembered that voice.
Memories that had been locked away in his head came flooding back. He remembered it all know, but most importantly he remembered her now.
"L-Lottie?" He stuttered on the name, shocked.
All of a sudden, he felt lips pressed against his own. Her lips. It was a sweet kiss, but then everything went black.
Now in a hospital bed, the man awoke to an empty room brightened by the light of a full moon. Cuts and bruises covered his body head to toe, but the blanket covered him up to his shoulders. Down the left side of his cheek was a deep cut, almost a scar.
The man put his hands over his face, and then tears started to stain his cheeks. He cried silently for sometime then, tormented by memories he wished he could just forget. He only wanted one night where he could sleep in peace, without the girl he loved, and still loved, haunting his dreams.
If only she was still here.
If only he had never remembered.