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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Plasmana, the vampirette was invited to the annual ball by Count Shevesky who was handsome and six-feet tall. It was held in his castle high where vultures flew nearby eyeing the guests with beady eyes waiting for someone to die. Women and their escorts dressed in finery as they stepped out of their horse-drawn carriages, the ball was a romantic setting for single ladies who dreamed of rich and lasting marriages. The ballroom was full of waltzing dancers, women wearing tiaras or crowns, swept away with their charming partners as their silk slippers peeked under their gowns. When Plasmana entered the ballroom near, the music stopped and not a hush was heard from the attendees, her exotic beauty turned the men into mush. After some time the music continued, men kept staring at Plasmana the beauty, all wanting to propose and love her forever, overcome by a mesmerizing duty. Count Shevesky stepped forward and gently took her black-gloved arm, he too was engulfed with her sensual looks, and totally smitten by her charm. They danced all night and he was hypnotized by her penetrating dark and beauteous eyes as he held her tightly he dreamed she was his wife, totally worshipping this woman not knowing her guise. The clock in the grand hallway struck midnight, Plasmana's face was stricken with fear as she fled from the arms of the Count so suddenly, running as if a hunter chasing a deer. Empty arms and no Plasmana, the Count chased after her through the massive front doors, only to discover her empty gown on the ground, and a vampire bat flying towards the moors. Each year when the ball is held in the autumn, Count Shevesky looks longingly at the front door for Plasmana the most exquisite woman he ever knew, wanting to capture her essence once more.
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