Dione's Talent, 4 of 6.

                Dione went into the mansion and entered the living room briefly.  There, she came upon the maid, who was busy dusting the piano.  She walked quietly up to the woman and scared her.  Afterward, she removed the goggles and said, "How did I look?"

                "A bit fishy.  How is the swimming party coming along?"

                "It's quite boring -- now.  I was just going to get changed," she replied.  "How's your day been here so far?"

                "Not too bad, but I'm getting ready for this evening.  Those girls will bring their friends in here and make the biggest mess."

                "So, what else is new?  They bother me any time they can, but I don't let them get on my nerves anymore," she lied.  "Just ignore them.  All they really want is attention."

                "They do not bother me or get on my nerves.  It's WHAT they do and HOW they act for their ages that does.  I hope Mr. Manners gets back soon."

                "Mr. Manners?"

                "Yes," she said.  "He is the landlord and main disciplinarian around here."

                "They'll grow up soon, I'm sure.  They're just trying to be better than they really are.  Their time will come -- fast."

                "Hopefully."

                Dione went to her room, and the maid continued with her work.  The day waned quickly, and supper was served in the living room.  The girls and their friends dominated the evening, but their behavior remained generally acceptable, much to Marie's surprise.  It was deduced that the incident at the pool was responsible for the better order, but the event was disregarded by everyone as a fluke close call, except by Sherri.  She was the least talkative and wondered more how it could have ever happened.  The other young women were accordingly conceited and dressed in revealing tight clothes -- expensive and even ostentatious.  

                Dione intermingled about the crowd and nibbled at the carefully prepared food and hors'd ouvres until her hunger was satisfied.  Then, she conversed briefly with the maid aside, who was making sure all was as well as possible.  

                "Isn't this a big fake put-on?"

                "Yes.  I know."

                "Do they do this often?" Dione jeered.

                "Often enough.  This one has been going good -- so far," she replied.

                "They sure think that they're IT."

                "Naturally.  They all want to be different from one another, and each has their own talents," she explained.  "Colleen is the bragging expert swimmer.  Bonnie is the musician and beautician, and Marsha is the beautiful flawless model goddess.  Each of them is unique, but all are alike together."

                "Yeah.  I know what you mean."

                While Bonnie played the piano and sang, Dione departed, feeling bored and a bit disgusted at the elitist civilized behavior of the gathering.  Again, she was largely ignored and shut out of the conversations - alienated.  She just hated it when everyone was watching what each other was doing, as they ate, drank, and talked, instead of enjoying themselves.  It was like they were still subtly competing with each other's family status/rank.  Dione despised such "friendly" competition at supposedly uniting gatherings: the stuff of tomorrow's gossip.

                Marsha was anonymously in her room changing into fresh clothes in front of her mirror between food servings downstairs almost 1/2 hour after Dione departed.  Her tight violet clothes were sexy, but she wanted elegance now and put on a sleek, pretty, dark-blue evening dress.  Afterward, she donned a glittering necklace, shiny earrings, and straightened her attractive hair.  As she admired herself, Dione gradually came forth from the darkness of an adjacent corner.

                Dione approached her slowly, bearing an expression of concentrated attention.  She was wearing a black gown and carrying an old book with rippled yellowed pages open in her arms.  Marsha merely glanced at her and remarked, "That dress is a little unusual for this occasion. Isn't it, shrimp?"

                "I have come for you, Marsha."

                "Get lost!  I can take care of myself and do what I want."

                "MASHU!"

                "What?" she said.

                "ALLACHUL!"

                "W-what are you doing, Dione?  I . . . I can't move!"

                Marsha remained fixed where she stood, gazing into the mirror frightened.  Dione continued the chants, standing in the deep shadow of the dimly lit room with her eyes now glowing red.  More ancient words were voiced, and Marsha felt warm.  She began breathing more rapidly, and her voice became more and more faint and high-pitched, like a very fast recording.  

                "MALLACHUL!"

                "Please stop, Dione!  We can still be friends.  I won't do any bad things to you anymore.  Don't do this.  Please!"

                "GAGGAMANNU!"

                The word reverberated loudly in her mind.  Feeling a little dizzy, she strained to look down at herself.  She was rapidly fading and elevated a few inches off of the carpeted floor.  Marsha felt weak and was now entirely helpless, with her rapid breathing sounding loud to her.

                Dione said another strange word, and the occult mystic spell became complete.  Marsha's lovely body vanished; the room was abruptly silent, like a crypt.  However, she was not dead -- only changed in form.  Dione then came entirely out of the darkness after closing the book.  She stepped up in front of the mirror and stared at her pretty captive.  Marsha was hopelessly trapped within it, and she smiled at her triumphant.  Now, she was the more superior.  Marsha was converted to a fragile living image and confined, unable to escape it's borders.  She still could see Dione and frantically beat her fists against the glass from the uncanny position begging for freedom, but her cries and efforts were unheard.  

                "You are not so big and strong now, Marsha.  Only I will be able to see you, nobody else.  Because you'll miss the rest of the party, I wish you good night.  Shrimp!"

                The young sorceress went back to her room, and after getting back into typical clothing, she went back downstairs to join the others, explaining only when asked that Marsha did not feel well from too much to drink and was taking the rest of the night "off."  No further questions were asked, as she was the outcast anyway, and all went well the rest of the evening.  Needless to say, she felt very good before falling asleep that night.

Continued to Pt. 5.