Dance and Dread

Toe.Toe.Point.Point.Pivot.

I executed each move with confident precision. Limbs slicing through he musty air of the theater. The swishing of my skirts was reassuring, preventing me from panic as I performed in front of the vast crowd. I felt their eyes on me, envious of my flawless beauty and perfect co-ordination. But I didn’t care, all these years of constant dance, I wanted them to look on at me in envy, wanted them to want to be me. A string of instructions slipped through my mind as I fell into a trance, performing each move without feeling, lying with my body to the crowd who welled at my dramatic ballet, filled with false emotions.

Toe.Toe.Point.Point.Pivot. Pause.

I Whirled about the stage, dancing through and leaping around each note the piano sang to the crowd. The tempo increased. Too fast, my legs, as strong and elegant as they were struggled to keep pace with the quickening music.  Hushed whispers echoed in the vast hall, as their recent envy turned to pity as my limbs flailed helplessly.

Tripping. Turning. Stumbling. Falling.

With one last antagonized push to gain back control of my extremeties, my toe made a sickening crunching noise. I fell to the floor with a delicate thump, only to be greeted with another, louder crunch. I heaved my head off the floor to pear round at myself. Vivid red spread across my spotless ballet gown, consuming the white like ink soaking into blotting paper. Looks of horror mirrored on each of the people’s faces and gasps escaped their mouths.

The piano faded. Ding. Dong.Darkness.

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