A warm, gentle hand reached out to me. Fingers caressed my middle. Together we swayed back and forth, cutting a pattern below…slowly rising up, then down, as if undulating and swirling to a Viennese Waltz. Then a tighter grip and rapid staccato movements followed, surprising me with the forced change of pace.
As I waited for the next rhythm, we returned to the familiar sway of the waltz. But after more starts and stops, I’m confused – forced with a swishing back and forth across the same space. A downward pressure forced me right, then left, then right again.
He swears in frustration. I want to cry out, “It’s not my fault!”
I’m lifted up, then leaned back as if in a Rumba’s dramatic dip, which leaves me breathless.
Oh, No! Not the electric pencil sharpener again!
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Pelican Pens Writers 
You made my morning. Again, I did not anticipate that last sentence. You’re really good at surprising your reader, yet, when the reader looks back at the story, he says, “I should have seen that coming.”
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Very creative…I was totally unable to guess what it was. The title/Dance Macabre was a great touch that is pretty apt…
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