The Ballerina

A Ballerina dances the night away. 2/52 4.23.16

 

            “I danced my greatest dance.”

Cigarette smoked flooded the air as it burned. She puffed at it slowly from the long stemmed wooden holder that sat firmly between her fingers. She looked back into the bright light and repeated herself.

“I danced my greatest dance.”

            “We practiced and practiced. Swan Lake was about to premier and many of the dancers were getting injured. I on the other hand, I was built for this. I was ready and I had the moves down, the stamina to fulfill the part, and the grace, my God, the grace to float across the stage.”

            “Its true, the lead dancer was dancing both parts, probably because she was also sleeping with the director; what filth. But she didn’t have the skill, or the want like I had.”

The cigarette continued to burn and the smoke twirled as the two men continued to listen without interruption.

“There I was behind the stage when the director said he couldn’t find Sofia, the girl who was suppose to play Princess Odette and Odile, so I was called to stand in. Yes, I know what you’re thinking. I was just the understudy, but I wasn’t. I had learned both roles because I wanted to, because I was better! I knew both parts forward and backward, and I knew the world would see my talent and love me for it.”

            “I peaked through the curtains and gasped. The lights, the people, they were all so beautiful. My stomach fluttered. I felt anxious. For the first time in a long time I felt alive. Moments later the curtains opened and the dancers danced, but I performed. I did both parts, flawlessly twisting and twirling across the stage. Moments of complete focus allowed me to transcend the strain caused by position after position, or the graceful Avant; even being able to hold a pointè for as long as needed.”

            She removed the cigarette from the stem and put it out on the stainless steel metal table she sat at, then tapped the stem’s end on the table and took a deep breath.

“Do you know what it’s like to feel like a robot, to feel dead inside?” She watched as the two men looked at each other and then back at her. “Then to immediately feel alive again?”

 

“Well… that’s a fascinating story Ekaterina, but you never told us what happened to Sofia.”

 

            “Didn’t I?” She adjusted the handcuffs on her wrists and lit another cigarette.

 

Author's Note

I'm writing 52 short stories in 52 weeks and this is number 2. I've only written a few in my writing life so I hope you like it.

Reviews

[Shannon]

Nice twist. I like believable, but not easily predicted!

[James Whitefall]

Thanks for the review.