Flying
By Sydney R. Lewark

Isa Barrow, sat in a corner of the ball room surrounded by no one but her servants, watching the lavishly dressed guests glide across the dance floor in the low candle and fire light. The women's wide skirts swooped across the floor, and their heeled shoes clicked against its marble surface. Every dress was different, some gold, white, red, yellow, blue, green, ivory, and silver; every corset was jeweled, laced, or decorated with exotic flowers. Long billowy sleeves trailed through the air, and expensive jewelry brushed against milk white skin. The men were not as extravagantly dressed, but every coat and silk shirt was pressed perfectly, every boot polished, every sleeve buttoned in place.

It was a masquerade ball, so each face was hidden behind a mask, leaving Isa to wonder who was who in the crowd, whom she could trust, and whom she couldn't.

Isa herself, was wearing a black dress, long white bodice, and a tight corset underneath. The sleeves were low on her shoulders, reaching past her hands in black and white lace; the whole dress was covered in tiny cream and rose pearls. Matching pearls were sewn into her simple half-black, half-white mask, and hung on thread through her long dark brown hair.

The ball was in honor of her 17th birthday, but really was just an excuse for her parents, the Duke and Duchess of Wales, to throw another party and flaunt that they had more money than everyone attending it. Isa's home, a huge castle on a hill, surrounded by miles of peaceful meadows, extravagant gardens, sapphire lakes, and emerald forests, had been turned into a fairytale place. The gardens had been trimmed and pruned to perfection, the ponds alight with candles on tiny flower boats, and each inch of every room cleaned and set sparkling in candle light.

The reason Isa sat in the corner, on the night of her 17th birthday, watching from behind a mask, as countless young women, far less beautiful then her, get asked to dance by many a handsome young man was because......

"Isa" a male voice asked casually from behind her. "Isa Barrow, isn't it"

She didn't even turn her head to acknowledge the speaker.

"Yes" she answered heavily.

"I'm Isa"

"And may I ask Isa, why a girl as stunning as yourself is not dancing".

Still keeping her gaze straight in front of her, she slowly lifted her skirt to reveal a stockinged leg, the top half long and thin, but everything below the knee missing. She had been born like that, crippled, helpless in the eyes of the world, and unable to do anything about it. Isa had been told there was no use for a broken human being, and as the years past, she begun to believe that was true.

Isa expected, like everyone before him, that this young man would turn and awkwardly walk away, leaving her broken heart, to be torn into pieces again. The pain of being rejected and outcast had been driven so deep, that she was beyond the years of crying and this time only cringed when the man began to speak.

"Well" he said calmly. "I still see no reason for you not to dance".

Very quickly, and with strong trustworthy movements, he picked Isa up out of her chair and held her tightly, one hand behind her back and the other wrapped securely around her crippled and non crippled leg.

Isa's long black and lace skirt brushed the floor, a thousands pearls rolling in the candle light, and for the first time, she looked into his eyes. They were framed by a red and white mask, and the eye slits were small, but Isa could distinctly see that one was ice blue, and the other a deep swirling aqua. She couldn't draw her gaze away from his face.

"You have amazing eyes" she whispered.

A smile touched his lips, and a slight moment of relief crossed his face.

"You know not everyone thinks that"

Isa laughed, wondering how anyone could look at his eyes and not be awed.

"Well, I think that you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen".

His smile grew wider, and Isa noticed how tall and striking he looked in a red coat, white silk shirt, black knee high boots, and ivory sash.

"And I think you are in need of a dance partner" he answered.

Without hesitation, the boy with the different colored eyes, carried the crippled beauty out into the middle of the ballroom.

Isa wrapped her arms tightly around his neck as he began to turn to the fast beat of the music. The world blurred around them, until it seemed that everything, all the guests, servants, musicians, candles, food, chairs, tables, had disappeared, and they were spinning alone on the dance floor.

Isa's dress flared out and whipped around wildly, the tiny pearls clinking together in the folds of the thick fabric. As he continued to twirl in wide sweeping arcs feet not faltering, Isa realized they were laughing loudly, and wondered who this mysterious boy with the different colored eyes was.

"What's your name" she asked breathlessly, her words swallowed up by the wind they had created.

"Ash" he replied, spinning faster and faster.

Isa watched the absolute joy on his face, as he spun with her in his arms, watched his beautiful eyes on her, and for one moment everything, every horrible, heartbreaking moment of her life, and lost herself in the gaze of this perfect boy.

Letting go of everything, Isa threw her head back, and let her long dark hair fly out behind her, the air rushed past her face, and curled around her closed eyes, Ash held onto her tightly as she flung her arms behind her, embracing full on the rush of the wind, created by the wake of her elegant skirt.

A smile crossed Isa's face, as she realized she was flying.