Excerpt from Giselle: A Ballet Re-told

*When I was little, my mom bought me a book of classic ballets. I was just re-reading it lately, and decided that the ballet "Giselle" would make a really interesting story. So here's the prologue for my retelling of this story. BTW, you don't have to be familiar with the ballet to understand the story, it will all be explained soon enough in the book :)*

Prologue

Cold, wispy tendrils of fog wrap around my ankles as I walk lifelessly through the graveyard. I stare at my white, frozen hands and mourn the warmth they once possessed. Haunting peals of sad laughter echo all around me, and I feel a strong, feminine arm wrap around my shoulders.
"Giselle, my dear, wait over there for me to introduce you to the other wylies," instructs Queen Myrtha, ruler of the wylies. I want to run away from her, from all the wylies, from my gloomy fate. But I cannot. I am destined to live as a broken-hearted ghost forever. I look at the Queen once, then slowly turn and walk to the brink of the lake at the edge of the forest where the Queen had pointed. As I silently wait to be introduced, I listen to the Queen and the wylies speak.
"My dears, my dears, let us all settle down," begins Queen Myrtha. Silence ensues. "Let us remember who we are and why we are here. Who broke our hearts and caused us to die?" she questions.
"Faithless men!" the wylies respond enthusiastically, tears in their eyes. I feel tears in my own eyes as I think of Albrecht.
"And what happens to those despicable men who dare trespass upon our land?"
"We kill them!" the wylies shrill, tears dissipating and eyes flashing with anger instead. All my life, before I died that is, stories have been told in a warning manner, telling of the heartbroken women who haunt the woods at night from sunset to sunrise. Any man foolish enough to cross paths with a wylie was never seen of or heard of again. I had never believed in the wylies, those ghostly women who had been victims of faithless men. And now I am one of them.
"Good, good! I am glad to see that you have not forgotten your purpose. Now, I would like to introduce our newest member, Giselle," says the Queen. Right on cue, I step forth from the mist that had previously enshrouded me, and stare at the countless number of wylies before me. They are all clothed in white, their skin cold and pale, their eyes lifeless and sad, their faces pained and angry. I wonder if I look the same way.
"Tell us a little about yourself, dear," the Queen prods. I know what she wants. She wants me to be spiteful and and furious, to shout in agony my story, to bitterly swear that I hate all men and will wreck my vengeance on them all. But that is not how I feel. I may be broken-hearted, but I am not bitter.
So instead, I say softly, "I loved to dance." The Queen's eyebrows raise.
"Ah, is that so? Well, then, fortunately for you the wylies dance often," she tells me. I nod.
"I was quite good at it, too. But Mother didn't like it because my heart is-...was too weak. That's how I died," I explain, my eyes growing moist as I think of my mother and my last moments alive. The Queen smiles, sensing a good heart-break story for her to grow even more bitter upon.
"Why don't you just tell us the whole story, dear." I sigh. I know I'll have to do it sooner or later anyway. I have all eternity. But part of me wants to share my misery, my sadness, my heartbreak...the wylie part.
"It all started when I was dancing in the meadow, the one on the other side of this lake," I begin. This is my story.