11th May 2018


I knew I shouldn't have come.

I pull my dress up whilst struggling to make my way through the crowd. I can feel the vibrations of the music coming from the speakers, pulsing along the floor and through my body. It's too loud, too crowded, too hot. I'm still pushing my way through the sea of students, heading toward the direction I know will take me out of this room. My heels clattering along the floor as I rush out the door. I shiver slightly as a breeze brushes against my arms, signaling I've finally made it out of there.

I had already discovered my lack of enthusiasm toward social events on a number of occasions, much like this very one - but that didn't stop me. It wasn't just any event, it was the event of the year. Something senior girls chatted about in the corridors - months before the actual thing. Hair and makeup appointments were booked weeks in advanced and outings to purchase a dress were organised. I even jumped on the wagon, and managed to buy a dress months before the ball.

That's right,

The Ball.

The thing girls obsessed over, talked about in class, got told off by teachers for mentioning it too much - there was even an announcement made in assembly about how the Ball wasn't for another 2 months, so therefore we shouldn't be using class time to query friends about 'how their dress hunting was going.'

I'm glad to say that even though I did purchase my dress early (quite a bit earlier than most girls) I, nor my friends, were the sort of students to constantly go on about the ball. There was the occasional mention, 'how was the dress you ordered,' and 'are you getting your hair done professionally?' But we didn't waste countless lunch times pining about this one event - yes it was the event of the year - but there is always next year. And anyone I think we all came to the mutual conclusion that the ball was more about the night, or well day, getting prepared and then spending the night dancing or whatever it is you did when you didn't have a date.

Not that I expected it to end like this.

It had started out, quite nicely actually. Us girls having a pre-ball together, to get ready, take a lot of photos, eat some food and then we headed out - all ready in our dresses, hair done and makeup as perfect as it could be. We made our way along the cobblestone pathway, entering the building with smiles and curious looks on our faces. As we ascended the stairs toward the venue our excitement grew - we were met with lights and music, food and drink, a photo booth across the hall in another room (which we made use of right away). Everything was going great - and that's when I should have realised that things didn't always go to plan.

An hour into the Ball and my feet were already sore, a constant pressure against the balls of my feet due to the nature of my high heels. The music may have been loud and it might have been a bit hot, but at the time me and my friends were together, jumping to the beat, singing along to the supposedly well known songs (some which I have never even heard before). There were even refreshments, and some food - which included a station where you could roast marshmallows, I just absolutely love the gooey, sweet nature of them - delicious.

But by now I was tired. I was finally out of the stuffy room, the breeze that continued to pass by I welcomed with overly warm arms. I crossed my arms in front of me as I continued to walk away, further and further from the event that, though I had outwardly been looking forward it - had secretly been dreading the whole thing. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good dance, but one that's over 3 hours long? You can't expect me to be comfortable in a room with a bunch of people that I don't know that well or don't even know at all?

By now it was dark out, about an hour to midnight, almost the end of the ball - which finishes at approx. 11.15pm. Checking the time on my phone, which I had been carrying in my clutch purse, I discovered that it was 11.12pm, leaving 3 mins early wouldn't hurt anyone - it certainly wouldn't hurt me. I slowly climb down the stairs, the clip, clop of my shoes that I decided to keep on, the only sound that broke the silence. The very silence which was broken by a different sound. I strain my ears to hear it, the faint buzz - like that of an electrical appliance. I cautiously make why way further down the stairs, the buzzing growing louder and louder. But I can't stop. An unknown will, an unkown force is causing me to move.

'Keep going,' it whispers to me. 'Come find me.' And then I see it. The stairs below me are beginning to vanish, a black, almost gooey like substance begins to consume them. But I can't move, that same force is keeping me in place, the black compound swirling all around my feet. I can feel it, cold and wet against my skin as it begins to climb up my leg. I want to run, I need to run. But I can only stand in fear as it continues to crawl up my body, covering my torso, my arms, my hands, my neck. Until it consumes me entirely.

And all I can see is darkness.


It was as if she and the black matter were never there, for they were both gone without a trace.


Thanks for clicking on this fanfic, hope you enjoyed the Prologue, and that you stick around for more. This is my first Star Trek fanfic, so please feel free to review - feed back and feed forward are welcome, just tell me what you think!
I plan to update a least once a week (Every Friday/Saturday).
Once again thank you and enjoy your day!