Moth to a Flame - Word Count 718

When seeing is believing, it then becomes reality.

Moth To A Flame

          As I sit here, reflecting on that fateful night, I am still trying to make sense of the events that transpired. It was the late nineteenth century, and the world was abuzz with the latest innovation - moving pictures with music. I, Jasmine Burrow, had heard about this marvel from one of our family's servants, and my curiosity was piqued. My parents, as usual, were away, and my Nanny, stern as ever, forbade me from attending the show. But I was determined, and two days later, I snuck out, my heart racing with excitement and a touch of fear.

          The theater was a dimly lit, cramped room, filled with people wearing dirty clothes, their body odor offensive. I felt out of place, but my desire to experience this new wonder kept me seated. As the show began, I was immediately entranced. The images on the screen seemed to come alive, and the music was like nothing I had ever heard before. It was as if I had entered a different world, one that was full of vibrant colors and sounds that seemed to reverberate deep within my soul. I never wanted this night to end.

          But as the first show ended, a strange, unsettling feeling began to creep over me. The air in the room seemed to thicken, and the shadows on the walls appeared to twist and writhe like living things. I tried to shake off the feeling, telling myself it was just my imagination playing tricks on me. But as the second show began, I realized that something was amiss. The music was more intense, the colors more vibrant, and the images on the screen seemed to be... shifting. It was as if I were looking out a window, not at a screen. And then, I saw it. A figure, a woman with long, flowing hair, stepped out of the screen and into the room.

          At first, I thought it was just a trick, a clever illusion created by the filmmakers. But as I watched, the woman began to move, her eyes fixed on me with a haunting, otherworldly gaze. I felt a chill run down my spine as I realized that the screen had somehow become a gateway between the world of the moving pictures and my own. The images, the music, everything was spilling out into the real world, and I was not sure if I was dreaming or awake.

          As the night wore on, more and more images escaped from the screen. A horse, its mane wild and flowing, galloped through the aisles, its hooves pounding out a rhythm on the wooden floor. A group of dancers, their skirts swirling, twirled and leaped across the room, their laughter and music filling the air. It was chaos, beautiful and terrifying, and I was not sure if I was a part of it or just a spectator. The line between reality and fantasy had blurred, and I was lost in a world of wonder and fear.

          But what had turned the screen into a portal? I would later learn that the filmmaker, a brilliant and eccentric man named Emeric, had been experimenting with the boundaries of reality and fantasy. He had infused the film with a strange, otherworldly energy, one that had awakened a power that was beyond his control. As the images spilled out into the real world, Emeric was nowhere to be found, leaving me to wonder if he had intentionally unleashed this chaos or if it was an accident.

          As the night wore on, the portal grew stronger, sucking me in with its vortex of sound and color. I felt myself being pulled towards it, towards the world of the moving pictures, where reality was twisted and distorted. I was not sure if I would ever return, or if I would be trapped forever in this world of wonder and terror. And yet, even as I felt the fear rising up within me, I could not help but be drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. The portal had become a gateway to a new world, one that was full of mystery and wonder, and I was eager to explore its secrets. Little did I know I was about to embark on a journey that would change my life forever.

Word Count: 718