Day 6:

Challenge - Lake Helevorn: Greed is good! Write a story or poem or create artwork that will prove or disprove this statement.

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Night of the Dancing Death

Death danced tonight.

Her veil was darkness. Her eyes the bottomless pits of oblivion.

Her lips the hot blood flowing from wounds.

Her steps – the flashing blades in the dim moonlight.

The Night of the Dancing Death.

Everything was happening at once and yet lasted eternally. The short moment of avoiding a falling blade lasted a lifetime in a wink of eye.

Blades and bodies were one, muscle and steel both serving the cruel whims of one mistress. One couldn't avoid her by staying at home. It was her night, and she demanded what belonged to her. A sacrifice.

A jackal howled again.

A cry of pain ended abruptly.

Then it was quiet.

The night began breathing again. The curtains moved in a weak gust of wind. The sabres returned to their scabbards.

A candle lit, its flame reflecting in the growing stain of blood on the floor.

A sharp intake of breath.

"You fools! It is not him!"

The light of the candle revealed a face. Not the pale features of the stranger, but a tanned and unshaved face, a local. There was a bag at his belt, and peaking from it a silver candleholder, the same like those in the tavern.

"A thief…" someone muttered with disgust.

Death claimed her sacrifice.

And meanwhile, a limping shadow slipped away through the empty streets.