Corpe and Bloor

On the rural islands of Corpe and Bloor the annual Fight Week is about to begin in which champions are chosen and lives changed forever. The Fight is between a champion from Corpe and a champion from Bloor. Girls are chosen as prizes for the man who is crowned the winner of the Fight. Faith Rathbone is the unwilling prize of Corpe and the life she had always known is tipped upside down in the form of Alec McFadden, the champion of Bloor. She must decide if she can begin to hope for a life on Bloor but leave her family behind. But her fate is not her own.


21. Nineteen - Alec

When the sun set, the pleasant people of Corpe turned into barbarians.
           Back home on Bloor, we have a story to tell at night, of when the sun cowers from the dancers. They are not entirely human, but emerald beings that grow from the rocks and twirl in the moonlight. There are those that claim that it is nothing more than a myth, but the magic fades when you adopt that mind-set. And they dance and they dance like there is never going to be another sunrise. Their stamping feet arouse the sun from his slumbers and force him to shine his glory upon the world. My people call them the tappers for sometimes, in the dead of the night on Bloor, you can hear them keying into your soul, stealing your heartbeat and dancing to a new rhythm.
          So here I am now, standing close to the prize of Corpe watching as earthly faces flicker in the street lights. The original lights that line the streets have been turned off and a string on single bulbs light the way up the High Street. Braziers have been lit on either side of the street, illuminating the dancers in their unearthly dance, crackle and flicker, consuming the wood they are fed. Music pours from the shadows and it is only until I feel Faith’s hand on mine do I realise that I am awake.
          The drums pound out a furious beat, too changeable to be a marching rhythm, but it still entrances my soul none the less. Something about this island hums to my soul, like a kindred spirit. Faith guides me wordlessly through the dancers and darkness towards what I’m guessing to be the Gallas Hall. Singing sometimes matches the beat of the drums, but other tunes are so mournful and so lonely and high that they deserved to be sung alone. How funny the transition between the day and the night could change people, pulling away their normal composures and blasting out their true natures. To any person who thinks the Fight is something to be taken lightly, how I wish you could see this, here tonight. Shadows and creatures sing and dance all the way up to Gallas Hall, where the dream would continue.
          As with some dreams you do not wish to wake.

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