The One Who Dances in The Moonlight

Title sucks, and I am very sorry.
Written for yet another competition, because I can't motivate myself to write unless I have something or someone to write for.
Mention of death.
Written while listening to the Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven, so I will recommend you to listen to it while reading.

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1. The Boy

When you first saw him, you would believe that you were mad.

You would blame the pale, slightly transparent boy on the extra pint you had at the pub, and then you would go home, acting like you’d never seen him in the first place.

When you later saw him again, then you would insist that you didn’t have that much to drink, and that there had to be somebody there.

You would ask the other guys at the pub, and they would nod and say yes indeed, they had seen him too.

Nobody knew who he was, or why he was standing on the hilltop, only the moonlight illuminating his pale skin, dancing like he had never done anything else his entire life.

Maybe he hadn’t, nobody knew.

He was beautiful.

His lithe dancer’s body was covered by a black one piece, leaving his arms bare, but the rest of his body covered.

The black only helped to point out the incredible paleness of his skin, and the amazing blues, greys and greens of his eyes.

He looked old, like he was from a whole other time, but still he looked so young, like life had been snatched away from him.

His movements in the dance, the ballet, were so elegant that most people couldn’t stop themselves from watching the boy, who was known as the moon boy or the ghost boy in town.

Because while nobody knew who he was, they all knew that he was indeed dead.

The boy isn’t always there.

He is only visible on the hilltop when the moonlight is illuminating it, and its pale light is reflecting in the calm lake.

Some people thought that the boy was the lovechild of the moon and the lake.

An eerie creature born from the calmness of the lake, and the elegance of moon.

With his pale skin, his glasz eyes and elegant movements, it was easy to believe.

Some people believed him to be an elf, and said that if you watched him dance for too long, then he would lure you into the lake and drown you.

He never drowned anybody, he just danced.

Nobody knew his story.

Nobody knew that his lover had been in the war.

Nobody knew that the lover had asked him to keep on dancing until the lover came back.

Nobody knew that the lover had fallen in love with him while he was dancing.

Nobody knew that the lover had been killed in the war.

Nobody knew that the boy had never stopped dancing.

Nobody knew that the boy was found on the hilltop a week after the lover died. Starved and with bleeding feet.

Nobody knew that he was buried on the hilltop.

Nobody knew that he was still waiting for his lover to return.

Some say that the boy is still there.

That he is still dancing, never missing a beat, even if he is only visible in the eerie light of the moon.

Nobody knows, but he will keep on dancing until his lover returns.

Nobody knows, but maybe he will have to dance forever.

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