LordPeter List Literary Contest

Harriet started up from the table and made her way through to a dance floor where some people were dancing. She stood by the door watching them from a distance. In the middle of the floor she saw a tall slim man dancing with a woman. He drew her against him, holding her in his powerful grasp. She nestled against him, the richness of her female roundness was beautiful to look at through the soft flowing folds of her purple dress. Her skin was faintly tawny. She was slender, quiet and quick. She was hard and self-completed, bright and invulnerable in his arms. Warmth and motion suffused through him and signalled their fecundity. He was her man utterly.

While they danced they were oblivious to all who watched. Among the watchers was a man in a bath-chair. His hulking form decaying in its barren misery; its bulk hunched in the chair. The wasted potential energy of the man, repellent in his despair, touched Harriet to the bottom of her soul. "What cruel games are played with people's lives" she thought as she walked away from the room.

-- A lying sort of Winter

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