Ballet

Breathe.

            My chest rises and falls with each trembling gust of air dragged into my lungs. The announcer’s voice, warbled and illegible through the speakers, pounds in my ears. Sweat pastes the clinging nylon of my uniform to my skin, and the acrid odor of hairspray invades my nose. I crouch in the orderly line, head down, waiting. In that soundless, hushed moment, the tension was almost palpable; I could feel the dancers ready to snap like a rubber band stretched a bit too far. Suddenly the song starts.

            Hold for eight.

            Head held high in the air, smile plastered on my face, I spiral in the first pirouette with ease. The bitter jelly slathered on my teeth is uncomfortable and slimy, but it keeps my lips from faltering that performance grin.

            The first kicks are powerful and precise; all dancers are perfectly in unison. My leg whips around in a flawless fuoette, gliding through the air in accord with the music that I know so well.

            Arabesque.

            My favorite move, the test of equilibrium. One leg extended behind, lean forward, balanced like a crane. I must be absolutely serene within myself, and let all distractions roll off my shoulders, to hold that exquisite pose, the arabesque.

            One deep inhale. I lean slowly forward, en pointe, balancing my weight on one foot. I can feel my muscles straining against the strange position.

            On my left, a girl stumbles and instintively grasps my shoulder.

            There was a horrifying moment of complete stillness, where my equilibrium was on the brink of corruption. The bone snaps out of its socket then abruptly back in as I collapse on the ground.The pain is sickening; stabbing sensations, daggers of agony, shoot up my leg and pierce my spine.  Although the sound of my body hitting the floor is loud, the music still playing is louder. Dancers with their eyes fixated on the crowd beautifully finish the routine, then bow to the roaring applause.

            I close my eyes.

            Breathe.

            Curled up on the slick gym floor, my flushed skin is stark in comparison to the cold ground. I can already feel my ankle swell. Later, violet bruises would blossom as a sign of the mangled muscle underneath. Now, alarmed yells echo nearer and nearer. The voices are fuzzy and vague.

            Broken ballerina.

            Tears cascade off my chin and splash on the ground, stained beige with performance makeup. A hulking paramedic with bulging muscles scooped me off of the ground. Hanging limp in his arms, gazing out at the stilled crowd and teammates watching me with wide eyes, I know I have danced my last dance.

Author's Note

Leave reviews, please.

Reviews

[Annie]

This is astonishing. Dancing for my whole life, I know how horrifying it is to get an injury, and even the fear of it is crippling. You captured that perfectly. The story reminds me of the part in A Chorus Line when the dancer falls and is escorted away on an ambulance, and everyone is suddenly asked what they would do if they couldn't dance anymore.

[Coyote Poetry]

The story is amazing. I like the description of the dance. I like the way you led the reader to the fall. The ending was sad. To lose the thing loved most. Would break your heart forever. Thank you for the excellent story.
Coyote

[Graveyardfuck]

I really like this story. It has a poetic feel, and I can relate to the pressures of ballet because I used to perform. Great write, beautiful description.

[Luna Evangeline]

Thank you Brooke.

[TL Boehm]

There is a dancer in my soul - but she has never reached any part of my body. I am a clod of epic proportions. I found myself deeply engaged with this - that feeling of watching it play out in slow motion - like a building demolition - wanting to put my hands out to stop it and knowing - it is much too late. And then the end - never dancing again. So harsh. I don't want to accept it even though it is more real than the hollywood happy endings. Broken ballerina...and all because someone else reached out to stop her fall...wow. A stellar story.

[Luna Evangeline]

Thank you very much TL.

[icelandicblue]

This is truly excellent. I really liked the juxtaposition of the word Breathe in the beginning and the end. I found it highly effective in contrasting nervousness and pain. The balletic moves worked well in conveying your tension and inner thoughts. The reader could feel that something was lurking on the horizon and I metaphorically held my breath while I waited. This is an excellent short story fraught with strong emotion and images. I'd also like to comment on the rubber band at the beginning and say that I found that to be an excellently placed harbinger for what would happen or "snap" later. I must agree with TLK regarding the trembling gust of air- I know what you are saying but I am not really sure that it works. Your breath would tremble but a gust that trembles is counter intuitive. I am really impressed by your story and your talent.

[Luna Evangeline]

Thanks a lot, I appreciate the review.

[chaotic katie]

i like this story. The imagery really puts the reader there, as if part of the audience. Nice job.

[Luna Evangeline]

Thank you Katie, much appreciated.

[chaotic katie]

anytime

[TLK]

The italicised instructions (which I err on assuming are internal) give this piece a real clear line of attack which helps to thrust it through right to the end. This presence maintain an equivalence of purpose even as the situation changes drastically.

In contrast to the very direct order & action of 'Breathe', the first paragraph treats the dancer as a passive, acted-on figure. This intensifies the feeling of waiting in one way, but I feel that this should be an active waiting. The dancer is prepared, ready, and planned for this moment -- they are waiting for the performance to start. Speaking as a sort-of performer (arguably teaching is a performance: especially when you are being observed) this process is very active indeed.
Also, I am not a great lover of adjectives. "My chest rises and falls with each trembling gust of air dragged into my lungs" -- the trembling is too much for me. What does it mean that the gust of air is trembling? I am more interested in the dancer hirself. And it is here that the 'dragged' as an action of the air itself tipped me off that the dancer was being discussed as passively patient.
I wonder whether the simile of the rubber band could be used to propose an active self-winding-up of tension.

When you come to the 'bitter jelly', I am much more interested. In fact, the imagery used provoked an unpleasant mouth sensation in me.

What follows is an excellent chronography of trauma. There is an ambivalence and lack of feeling that makes it hard to determine where the narrator is in relation to these events, but this gives it a journalistic/objective sheen that makes it all the more compelling to me.
The only thing that takes me out of this flow is that the accident happens without pause to the routine, and the dancer is floundering waiting for help. The time that elapses here seems very short, as there is no focus on the experience of the broken dancer during this wait (in fact, by saying 'I close my eyes it seems that the performance has finished without needing to blink). It gives me the impression that the performance was extremely short. I read it again to check my impression, wondering whether the arabesque was the final pose to impress. However, coming as it does after the 'first kicks' this seems unlikely.

Typos: "ground.The", "instintively".

[Luna Evangeline]

Thank you for what is undoubtedly the most thorough review I've ever received. I appreciate not only the praise, but the unadulterated critique. As far as your comments concerning the nonchalance of my fellow dancers, our couch was always telling us that no matter what happens, you must finish your dance. Girls have fallen and broken their ankles before, but everyone continues on without missing a beat. It's simply what must be done. As far as the time elapse, these high impact dances only last an average of three minutes. And, while enduring such horrible pain, the rest of the performance did seem to pass in the blink of an eye. While this happened years ago, I remember it going by in a blur.

Thanks for noticing those typos. I'll fix them soon.

Thanks again for the fantastic review.

[TLK]

"While this happened years ago, I remember it going by in a blur."

This is a bit of a cinematic conceit that might not translate to writing, but a comparing of the dancer's movements as seen by broken dancer and by the audience might indicate this 'hypnotic dilation' of time.

[Luna Evangeline]

So...you're saying that I should somehow incorporate it into the piece?

[TLK]

It would certainly explain how the broken dancer felt she could sit on the floor for only a moment, even as the dance continued and finished.

[Luna Evangeline]

Interesting idea. I'll try it.

[TLK]

Give me a heads up and I'll check it out. For the laffs I'll tell you it's a terrible idea and you were a terrible person for having it. Then you'll throw something at me as I duck out the door, shouting your inimitable catchphrase of "ooh, that stinky slimy slug!" and FREEZE FRAME, that's a WRAP, another episode of the sitcom is finished.

/goes to trailer

[Luna Evangeline]

You are an extremely unpredictable person!

[TLK]

Just unpredictable *enough*, you will find...

[InspiredToWrite]

Very well written!

[Luna Evangeline]

Much appreciated.

[Jamie Cook]

That's exactly how it is on stage...well at least for me. It's so nerve wracking, and most times you're always thinking because its good to dance with the heart, but we have to remember technique. Yep. You even got it down to the last smell of performance! The ending made me cringe, poor dancer :( The blunders are the worst especially when they mean, no more dance :( LOVELY STORY!!! I REALLY LOVED IT!

[Luna Evangeline]

Yes... The performance was spectacular, I remember it even now.... The part when you break is definitely the worst. I still dance, in my soul. Thank you.

[Jamie Cook]

As long as the soul dances on ^-^ Welcome