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and around trunks and through bushes until I emerged from the undergrowth into a perfectly round clearing. The ground was covered with soft grass and tiny white and pink flowers except for the very centre of the circle where a bonfire snapped and crackled, reaching for the stars. Around the fire, a ring of dancers twirled and leapt, long hair and limbs flying in the golden light. Some of them held flutes and harps, the music that had called me here giving wings to their steps.One ducked out of the ring, caught my hand, and pulled me into the dance. My feet stumbled at first, clumsy and unskilled, then the music lifted me up and carried me into the whirling maelstrom. I lost all sense of time, dancing with one and then another of the dancers, my pyjamas swirling around me.After dancing with everyone there, I found my way back to the one who had invited me into the dance. As the stars faded, the fire died, and the other dancers darted into the trees. I caught my partner’s hands. “Don’t go!”They smiled and squeezed my fingers. “See you tomorrow night.” And they were gone.<figure id="3400"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/0*7pRY8twuaUOjsMJU.png"><figcaption></figcaption></figure>This story is a response to Prism & Pen’s writing prompt <a href="https://readmedium.com/a-little-night-music-4a1a1f9425ad">A Little Night Music</a>.<div id="9231" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/a-little-night-music-4a1a1f9425ad"> <div>

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          <div>
            <h2>A Little Night Music</h2>
            <div><h3>A Prism &amp; Pen Writing Prompt</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
          </div>
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            <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*cdwOHFv31lIqHEpyas-CKw.jpeg)"></div>
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    </div><h2 id="f0d3">Other stories so far —</h2><div id="69ab" class="link-block">
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            <h2>She Made Me Dance</h2>
            <div><h3>Narrative poetry on A Little Night Music</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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      <a href="https://readmedium.com/summer-of-love-510a432ceee9">
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            <h2>Summer of Love</h2>
            <div><h3>It was 1967 and we were on our way to San Francisco</h3></div>
            <div><p>medium.com</p></div>
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Night Music

Dancers in the forest

Silvery moonlight spilled through my bedroom window, limning my posters of Joan Jett and Led Zeppelin on the walls, and setting shadows a-dance among the diorama of action figures and ponies on my desk. Interlaced with the pearly light, a quiet clear melody tickled my ears.

I rolled over and sat up, drawn to the window, caught by the music and pulled to my feet to look out into the shadowy forest. Moonlight touched the tops of the tallest spruces and firs, turning their green into the brightest silverwhite.

I slipped out of my room and slid my feet into my shoes, then eased the front door open and walked out into the night, closing it softly behind me.

I walked into the forest, following the music, and the trees and brush closed in around me. Above, the silvery cold light of the moon filtered only weakly through the branches. But ahead, where the music led me, a golden light flickered and danced among the trees, leading me on.

I climbed over roots and around trunks and through bushes until I emerged from the undergrowth into a perfectly round clearing. The ground was covered with soft grass and tiny white and pink flowers except for the very centre of the circle where a bonfire snapped and crackled, reaching for the stars. Around the fire, a ring of dancers twirled and leapt, long hair and limbs flying in the golden light. Some of them held flutes and harps, the music that had called me here giving wings to their steps.

One ducked out of the ring, caught my hand, and pulled me into the dance. My feet stumbled at first, clumsy and unskilled, then the music lifted me up and carried me into the whirling maelstrom. I lost all sense of time, dancing with one and then another of the dancers, my pyjamas swirling around me.

After dancing with everyone there, I found my way back to the one who had invited me into the dance. As the stars faded, the fire died, and the other dancers darted into the trees. I caught my partner’s hands. “Don’t go!”

They smiled and squeezed my fingers. “See you tomorrow night.” And they were gone.

This story is a response to Prism & Pen’s writing prompt A Little Night Music.