You can say that surreal things can happen when you least expect it. Perhaps it comes in an expected way, but often it comes in ways you never thought it would. Most of the time, surreal events happen your mind is incapable of comprehending it.

Perhaps that's how this one event happened for me: Katelyn Fyre. I'm a normal citizen in the city of O'Khasis. I wake up, go to work, go home, sleep, and repeat. My entire life has been like this: normal. Nothing has ever happened to me to make me wonder how something like that could have ever happened in the first place.

That was until that one day. Apparently, there was a strange tradition about a certain holiday that I had heard nothing of.

I walked down the streets of O'Khasis, doing my usual business when a man with a thick British accent and a freshly trimmed beard stopped me. "Would you like a flower?"

I examined the man's basket, full of white lilies that seemed freshly picked and carefully assorted in that simple, woven basket. It didn't seem intimidating. Once you live in the city for a while, nothing seems to intimidate you anymore. So, I nodded, "Please. But may I ask what for?"

"Some sort of tradition. I've never heard of it. But my mates are very fond of it," I could barely understand the man through his accent, but I brushed it aside and just assumed that was what he said. He pinned the flower to my blouse, careful not to prick me with the needle.

"I didn't think today was a special day," I commented, slightly intrigued by what the man had told me, "I thought it was just an ordinary day."

"Supposedly not, though. Have a nice day, ma'am," I continued walking down the sidewalk after the man's dismissal. It wasn't long afterwards when I made it to the central part of the city. As I approached the centrality, something told me to stop. I did so.

I looked to the east, finding hundreds of ghostly, pale-like figures marching down the hill towards the city. Others had stopped to look, shocked, as well. Several minutes later, the ghostly shapes had reached the city. At first glance, I thought it was just a crowd of pale people, but the closer I looked, I actually noticed that these people were... transparent. Interesting.

Then it struck me. These people weren't just ghostly, they were actually ghosts. It wasn't quite a shocking discovery, one that an average person could probably figure out. I mean, sure, when you see a transparent person, you're going to automatically assume that they're some sort of spirit.

Before long, dancing broke out unexpectedly between the ghosts and the living, and I found myself in the hands of Travis Valkrum, my ex. We didn't split on bad terms. It was quite the emotional day when we did, though.

I felt slightly at ease with what was happening, which was quite unusual because anyone who was right in the head would be puzzled and perturbed. However, none of the others seemed very confused by the event, so I knew that I shouldn't be either. But despite this, I asked Travis as we danced, "What's going on?"

"The Danse Macabre. It happens periodically, a dance between the living and the dead. It is meant to celebrate the fragility of life itself and to celebrate those who ever withheld a spirit." Travis answered nonchalantly, his feet dancing effortlessly to the music that had come from nowhere.

"How did this originate?" I asked. I remained intrigued, curious of this 'Danse Macabre.' I had never heard of it before this night, yet I felt I had celebrated this tradition all my life.

"It's originally from France," Travis answered, his hands cold on my skin, "Hence where it has its name."

"And what's so special about this?"

He grinned, "You'll find that out for yourself before this night ends."

We continued dancing. I felt like I knew every beat of the music, every step entering my mind like a wave of memory.

And then suddenly, the music stopped. The dead left, vanishing into a cloud of nothingness except for the chilled air where their presence had once been.

And then it hit me. Only the living can dance with the dead, and only the dead can dance with the living.

I turned around, hoping that I would find Travis, but to no prevail. He was gone. He was dead. And that was how we broke up all those months ago. His death caused by a tragic motorbike accident.

I left the lily-littered city to my apartment. I went to bed, but when I woke up, I knew nothing of the Danse Macabre of the previous night. My life had returned to being normal.

~~~~~

Okay, yes, I understand that this might be confusing for a handful of you. I tried my best to explain it in the one-shot.

It's currently 1 A.M. on a school night and I can't sleep. Yet, my mind decided this would be a cool thing to write on. The inspiration for it came from a book entitled The Graveyard Book written by Neil Geiman that we're reading in my Language Arts class.

If you guys have any questions about the traditions of the Danse Macabre, feel free to ask me! I don't know everything, but I know most about it.

Mwah!
~Tara