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[Alisiea]

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He was gone.

Few people had ever shown her much kindness let alone much concern. Oh, of course they paid for her to dance her wild, seductive dance, but few had ever shown her much kindness. They would toss a coin or two at her feet and laugh as she stooped to pick them up. Perhaps that night she would eat or drink or sleep on a filthy bed in some ramshackle inn, perhaps not. Some men thought their coin could buy them more than just a dance, when they were proved wrong it brought her nothing but heavy fists and spittle. She was nothing but an amusement to them; a momentary distraction from their miserable lives. To her face they would clap and exclaim “Well done,” “What talent.” Behind her back they called her thief, trollop, cut-purse and sometimes; even worse.

Except for him.



To him she was exotic, charming and a delight to watch as she danced and clapped her hands to the rhythm of the tambourine. He would watch her as though she was the last dancer in the world and he would ask for nothing in return; save for her company. She, in turn, would watch his eyes as he told her of the places he had been. Of the things he had seen and done. How his eyes would dance to the deep resonance of his voice. She was a girl. No more than seventeen. She had never known love; what it felt like or looked like. She had never seen that look on one’s face when they recognized their lover on a crowded street or heard their voice across a noisy market. She had no idea what love was … and yet … and yet … she would gladly dance a thousand dances just to see him smile. She would wander the streets for hours just hoping to hear his voice. But now … now … the news had reached her ears. He had taken a ship across the sea, across the open waters to a land so far away her heart could never fly that far and no dance, no matter how seductive, would ever bring him back.

He was gone.