Gold and red-checkered lips.
Pink and purple plumage in pin-curled hair.
Corsets colliding with chosen partners.
Flickers of light from silver sequins scattering the ballroom.
Faces, unknown to all, spin, fly, leap, and land gracefully on tip toes.
A flyer flutters softly to the floor.
It bears words of, "Welcome, to the Masquerade Ball!"
She snatches the flyer before it can reach the ground reads silently, then, pockets it for memorabilia of the majestic night.
Worry of mundane chores, monstruous sisters, and a meaningless existence dance from her mind as she keeps count during the dance.
She breathes deeply, closing her eyes tightly.
"Remember, cling to this moment"--the words echoed like a gong in her head.
She listened to the woman's words of advice given earlier that night.
"Just as chores pass slowly do dances end quickly. Watch the clock, Dear, and remember--cling to this moment!"
Her eyes open--
The clock chimes again announcing to all it is twelve o'clock.
Panic rises in her heart.
It is twelve o'clock.
It is midnight.
It is over.
She tears away unwillingly, running wildly into the cold night air.
Her mind fills with the night's events: the dancing, the freedom, the acceptance.
She has never felt more like herself than she did wearing a mask.
As if they have a mind of their own, her eyes close, replaying the magical night.
Her ears follow suit, straining to hear the music playing miles away.
Her feet glide gleefully to the imaginary tune.
She will always cling to this moment.
A moment of happiness-
A moment of completeness-
A moment of acceptance-
Her Cinderella feeling.