Original Story by: Jose Garcia, a.k.a. The Dreamstrider
Written on: April 6th, 2023
Published on site: April 6th, 2023
All rights reserved.

There was once a traveler who found himself touring an elegant castle. This traveler had seen the ads and upon seeing pictures of the tour, felt a calling, like a light house calls ships in the middle of a foggy night, this old castle was calling the traveler to port. 

It had taken a little while to go, but after weeks of planning, he was finally stepping into the ever brilliant halls of elegant décor. He did not take a map nor follow any of the guided tours, he wanted to get lost within its halls, as far as he was allowed. He would walk through to the library and the kitchen halls, dazzled by the architecture that seemed so aged yet familiar. The palace was spotless, yet cold, as if old voices echoed through the facade set up for travelers and tourist. But he could hear them through the darkness, he could feel their loneliness. 

It happened then, the traveler came across an old dress openly laid out inside a secure crystal case. It was light blue outside, delicate white inside with complex red flowers and vines dancing around the body. His heart skipped a beat, as if he had seen something that shocked him. But he had never seen this dress before, so why did it feel so familiar?

He kept on with his walk, mind still struggling to understand what it was that he was missing, when he eventually ended up in the ever elegant ballroom. The walls were white with marble and touched by edges of gold. The ceiling with three chandeliers that would have once lighted the place up brightly. Mosaics on the ceiling telling tales unique to the local folklore. 

The place was mostly empty to simulate what it was like to dance in such halls, only a few things left on one of the corners. A grand piano, clean yet untouched. A few covered up paintings for one reason or another. And finally, a large mirror with bronze edges that looked straight into the room. 

His whole body tensed up, holding his breath back as he entered the room and took it all in. His brain running ten miles a minute, his eyes holding back tears he didn’t understand. Then, as if called, he responded with a sharp turn, to look at the old, spotless mirror. 

There was a girl there, wearing a white dress, hair as black as night, holding a lilac bouquet of lilacs. She takes notice of the traveler and gives a small wave. The traveler, knowing that he should either feel shocked or scared, instead approaches the image. His reflection never appeared in the mirror, only her image was on full display. As he approached, his throat got caught, a stream of tears down his face. Yet striding on, he strolled along close enough to the mirror to hold his eyes on her. She smiled softly, his face flustering at her gaze, yet he didn’t turn back or look away. He was entranced.

Then, as if practiced by one who knew this game, he gave a bow, stretched his hand and said “My dearest, may I have this dance?”

She didn’t answer with her voice, instead she reached to his hand as well. He felt her skin, so soft, almost as if touching air. Yet she was there… He looked at her, standing straight and holding her hands in the proper way. Slow piano music began to play, at first but a whisper yet it soon grew exponentially, echoing on the walls of the ballroom. What happened afterwards, the traveler could barely recall as real. 

The day turned night, the chandeliers glowed their burning yellow glow. Lost in her gaze, he barely caught the distant dancing of other specters besides them. It was as if everything happening was but an echo, and this, the only part that mattered. Even his clothes weren’t the same, but this he noticed. He now wore an elegant suit, not from this age, of blue white and gold, with white gloves in his hands that held a star in their back. 

The traveler danced the night away, holding this otherworldly being close to him. His heart beating so fast, hoping that this moment would last forever. Yet as he closed his eyes to wish, he found himself back in the empty ballroom, staring at himself in the mirror. His silent cry soon ended in losing the strength of his legs as he found himself whispering “What was your name?”

That night, after he had found the strength to go back, he laid in his hotel room bed. The tears had stopped eventually, for his eyes had no more tears to give. And finally, exhaustion overtaking him, he closed his eyes and dreamt.

He there saw her, wearing that dress of red and blue. She was crying, a smile on her lips but these tears weren’t from joy. She looked so pained. 

She whispered something, but he couldn’t catch it. She spoke in a language that he didn’t understand. However, before it ended, he did catch one word. She got close to him, first planting a kiss on his cheek and then whispering to his ear the name “Elaine.”

A memory opened up, from a life long ago. She had been his beloved, the reason to fight for. As he saw from himself, the tale of a knight and the princess he had fought for. And the one who he had lost long ago.