Dante's Night Dance: My Short Story with Dante and Beatrice

Where vintage romance meets modern magic at a high school dance

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Merry Christmas everyone!

I have always dreamed of seeing a story like this come to life, a story that draws from myth and reinterprets it in a modern key. I wanted to tell of that love that transcends time, that love that Dante Alighieri immortalized in his *Divine Comedy* through the figure of Beatrice. Not only that: I also wanted to explore the role of the guide, the mentor, embodied here by Virgil, who accompanies Dante on his journey of growth and understanding of love.

This is not a simple teenage love story, but a reinterpretation of classic themes, an attempt to give a new voice to immortal characters, projecting them into a contemporary context. I wanted to tell you about that moment when two people meet and, for an instant, the world around them vanishes, leaving space only for an intense connection, just as it happens to Dante in front of Beatrice.

This is how this story was born, from the desire to explore that fine line between reality and dream, where emotions become so powerful that they alter the perception of the surrounding world. I hope that by reading these pages, you too can feel that same magic, that same vertigo of a love that seems to transcend time and space, a love that echoes the sublime love sung by Dante for his Beatrice.

“Dante's Night Dance”

The high school's great hall vibrated to the rhythm of Lady Gaga's "Bloody Mary - TikTok Remix.”

The strobe lights fragmented the movement of dancing students, creating a kaleidoscope of shadows and flashes. In a corner, Dante leaned against the wall, his rebellious tuft falling on his forehead. His burgundy vintage jacket contrasted with his immaculate white shirt. One hand was nervously hidden in his pocket, and the other was tapping on his leg to the rhythm of the music.

"Still here in the shadows, my friend?" Virgil approached him with an understanding smile. "You know she hasn't stopped looking at you since she arrived, right?"

Across the hall, Beatrice shone in a '50s red dress, her full skirt swaying with every movement. Her sheer stockings, decorated with delicate floral patterns, caught the light as she moved gracefully. Her dark hair was gathered in soft waves that framed her delicate face.

"She's so beautiful it hurts to look at her," whispered Dante, almost speaking to himself.

Their gazes met across the hall. Beatrice smiled, and Dante felt his heart stop for a moment. It was then that the first notes of Brenda Lee's "I Want to Be Wanted" began to fill the air. Couples spontaneously formed on the dance floor.

Beatrice, still standing on her side of the hall, began to whisper the words of the song, her gaze fixed on Dante: "Alone, so alone that I could cry... I want to be wanted..."

Dante found himself walking towards her as if in a trance. "May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"I thought you'd never ask," she smiled, taking his hand.

"You're... you're incredible tonight," he whispered in her ear as they began to move to the rhythm of the music.

"And you look like you've stepped out of a black and white film," she responded, then noticing how he kept hiding one hand. "But why do you always hide this hand?"

Dante visibly blushed. "It's a bad habit..."

Beatrice gently took his hand, discovering the bitten nails. Her smile grew more tender. "Oh, Dante..." She brought his hand to her lips, softly kissing three fingers in succession. "You don't have to be nervous with me."

As they danced, Beatrice resumed whispering against his neck: "When I am kissed, I want his lips to kiss me... When we're apart, I want his heart to miss me..."

"It's so beautiful having you here," whispered Beatrice, her cheek brushing against his as they danced. Dante could smell the delicate fragrance of her hair - vanilla and something more elusive, perhaps jasmine. Her dress rustled softly against his pants with each step, creating its rhythm beneath Brenda Lee's melody. Around them, fragments of conversations from party-goers floated in the air-conditioned space: hushed laughter, the clink of a glass, the sound of heels on the parquet. A couple brushed past them, the girl in a blue dress whispering something in her partner's ear.

Beatrice's breasts appeared fuller than he had imagined, round and full in the beautiful neckline of her dress, which contained them in an embrace of red silk, hinting at their perfect shape. This aroused in him a deep, human excitement, like the dark force that pulses beneath the beasts' mantle. Beatrice caught his ardent glances, her tongue delicately sliding across her upper lip, and smiled contentedly, pressing herself even closer to him as they danced. Her pupils dilated slightly, betraying her pleasure in feeling so desired. When she moved to adjust herself better in his arms, her right earring caught the light, projecting for an instant a tiny rainbow on her collarbone.

It was at that moment that their fingers began to intertwine spontaneously as if guided by a superior force. Their fingers created ever-new patterns as they turned slowly. Around them, the other dancers seemed to accelerate, becoming blurred, like in a fast-forward film. Only they remained clear, dancing at the centre of this vortex of movement.

"Sometimes I wonder if all this is real," murmured Beatrice, as a membrane of water began to form in front of her face, trembling and alive. Through this liquid curtain, her face fragmented into a kaleidoscope of possibilities - a thousand Beatrices smiling in infinitely different ways, each as true as the original. Her words crossed the watery veil creating concentric waves in the air: "I want someone to share my laughter and my tears with..."

The same phenomenon enveloped Dante, like a living water bubble. Through this liquid prism, he saw Beatrice's red dress decompose into rivulets of colour, while impossible rainbows danced on their skin. The shapes of the hall multiplied and distorted, as in an underwater dream.

"In this moment," whispered Dante looking into her eyes, "I can see how everything in the universe is connected by invisible threads of love. As if everything - every person, every emotion, every..."

His voice broke as tears began to stream down his face silently. Beatrice, with infinite tenderness, placed her hands on his neck in an almost maternal gesture, her thumbs gently caressing his cheeks. With a gentle nod of her head, she encouraged him to continue.

Brenda Lee's music suddenly became more intense and vibrant, as if it had become living matter flowing through their bodies. The bass frequencies became more present, pulsing through the floor and up their legs, creating waves of vibration that reverberated in their chests—a tangible presence that enveloped them in a cocoon of pulsating sound.

Dante took a trembling breath and resumed, his voice hoarser but deeper: "… as if every moment…was part of a single, wonderful design. I don't have the right words to describe it, but looking at you... looking at you I feel I've found the center of this intricate puzzle. And this awareness fills me with a happiness I didn't think possible."

Beatrice smiled sweetly. With infinite delicacy, she raised her index finger and touched the centre of Dante's forehead, then did the same with her own - a gesture both ancient and new, as if she were tracing an invisible line between their souls. "I feel pervaded with bliss," she whispered, her eyes glistening with emotion.

The last notes of the song floated in the air as Beatrice, with an emotion-laden whisper, breathed: "I want to be wanted..." She leaned gently toward him, brushing his lips in a kiss as light as a butterfly's wingbeat, before resting her head on his shoulder and holding him tight. Dante wrapped her in his embrace, closing his eyes.

Virgil looked at them one last time, satisfied. Dante panted softly as he felt his groin grow damp. A snap resonated in the air, then only darkness. Beatitude.

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