Alice--A Short Story by R. L. Stedman

Author:R. L. Stedman [Stedman, R. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RL Stedman

* * *

“Dear?” A woman asked, “Are you well?”

The woman beside her was slim, pale in the orb-light. Her hair and dress were of silver grey, so for a moment, she seemed almost ghostlike. “This is your first visit?”

When Fatima nodded, she smiled sympathetically and patted her hand. “It can be overwhelming.”

She wore a white mask, studded with tiny pearls. Through the slits of her mask her eyes – her eyes – glowed gold.

Something about the woman seemed familiar. “Do I know you?”

“Don’t let this place worry you,” said the woman. “Nothing can hurt you here.”

“Where am I?”

“In a land out of time, dear,” she said. “Ah. Here they are.”

Below, the dancers had stopped, and now they stood, motionless. Then, as if in response to a hidden signal, the crowd split apart, creating a corridor. Down this corridor walked Evan and Alice, arm in arm. Alice stared fixedly ahead as she walked, and gave no sign that she saw, or even noticed, the dancers around her. Evan, though, acknowledged the waves and cheers like a king: waving and smiling good-naturedly.

“Who is he?” Fatima asked.

“Evan?” The woman sounded amused. “Who knows? I do not think that even he truly remembers who he is.”

“Alice? Is she his wife?”

“Alice? No.” The woman shook her head, and her voice sounded sad. “Just a lost soul. There must always be an Alice, to play partner to the King.”

“She’s his partner?”

“Perhaps. Sometimes. Sexually, I mean. But–” the woman pursed her lips. “Not this time, I think. For the present, she is his ward. Evan must have his Alice. But what he does with her, that changes. From time to time.”

As though hearing them speak about him, Evan looked up at the terrace and licked his lips. They were very red, and his teeth were very white, and Fatima felt suddenly sick with fear. She hugged her arms about herself, tried to stop the trembling.

“When do they want me to play?” She tried not to think of the more important question: What will they want me to play?

“Just before midnight. Don’t worry. It will be made clear to you. In time.”

“In time,” Fatima echoed.

The dance floor grew ever more crowded. Gradually, the music became faster; the globes pulsed brightly with the music. It was like watching a laser show. Guitars and drums appeared, saxophones, and a wild-haired woman with an electric violin. Fatima made a face. She’d never really enjoyed those.

Hair and masks, feathers and pearls tossed, nightmarish in the pulsing light. Jewels, sequins and painted nails flashed. The drums pounded; bass throbbed.

Set at the far end of the clearing was a brightly-lit stage. Evan stood there, smoke drifting about his feet. He was yelling something, but Fatima couldn’t make out what he was saying over the chaotic crowd-noise. Through the soles of her feet, the ground pulsed, until the very air seemed to be alive. Fatima couldn’t stand still, not with this pounding in her blood, her brain and soon she too was dancing; jumping up and down, swaying joyously to the rhythm.

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