Returning to the Masque

Taliana eased out of a doorway.  The Author (Authors?) had quite the situation on their hands it seemed.  Meanwhile, she needed to make sure that things were still in order at the party -- neglecting the threads would mean trouble, and there was this mystery man in the green cloak to track down. Carefully she …

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Spooktoberfest for the Masquerade Ball

Had James really chuckled when poor Rose offered get hand? Taliana suppressed a laugh of her own, she had certainly been the source of such breeches if conduct in the part. Why just a few weeks back she'd..... Taliana shook her head, looking over the threads, making a few quick adjustments as she continued in …

Short Story: The Masquerade Ball Arrival

Taliana took a breath as she stumbled out of the room. Shaking her head she took a moment to have another go at the threads, with this Author she was at least able to see the patterns, strangely twisted though they were.
The green thread continued, and Taliana followed it down the hall, somewhat relieved that it wound its way to one of the rooms she was familiar with. There were people here she was supposed to connect with, after all. Friends of the family, people she’d grown up with. Chasing this mysterious cloaked man was important — she felt that in her bones — as was keeping the threads untangled and the weaving correct. But her mother and father would be fairly disappointed if she didn’t appropriately play hostess to their guests that didn’t come from other worlds. The green thread lead into the grand ballroom, and Taliana began to wade her way through the crowd.

Allison Maruska

The following is my contribution to Eclecticali’s Masquerade Ball blog party. I confess; I’ve been terribly confused about the whole thing. But Allison (Eclecticali’s actual name – I’m not referring to myself. I’m not that weird) assured me that I couldn’t mess it up, so here goes. It’s the first part of a longer story. I have no idea how many there will be.

The Arrival

James stepped out of the carriage and the driver pulled away; the wooden wheels created a rhythm on the cobblestone path. He stood before the elegant house – a mansion, really – and tried to take in its details: tall, stone columns, trimmed topiaries, everything lit by hundreds of candle flames. The place was so captivating he nearly forgot he didn’t want to be here.

It’s your turn, his older brother, William, had said. His family was friendly with Taliana’s, but just barely…

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