Dancer

A girl witnesses the happiness of a dancer.

She was a dancer; a dancer of her own kind. She sometimes swayed to a slow melody, her arms swinging in time to the music. Other times, when the air was cold and I could see my breath before my eyes when I stood outside, I would find her stepping vigorously to the rhythms that beat out of the boom box, and her legs flying out underneath her.

            My friends laughed at her because she was different. She danced on her front porch, where everyone could see her. She blared her music so everyone could hear her. She made her mark on our lives, and she knew it. She didn’t care that people stared when the passed; she kept dancing as if it kept her alive.

            I didn’t know if she understood how much she was talked about; referred to as “that weird lady who dances all the time.” I myself didn’t understand why she chose to dance on her porch. Maybe it was to escape from her life; her life, like a piece of worn fabric, with stains of poverty and shame emblazoned on it. Maybe it was to show the world that she didn’t care about what they thought about her; she was showing what was inside of her. Or maybe, she didn’t know herself.

            I passed her house one day, and I saw her rocking to a slow, French song. I felt sorry for her looking at her thin clothes, ill-suited for the weather. I felt a pang of sympathy as I noticed the paint peeling off her house, and the garbage lying on the porch.

But then, I noticed the expression on her face; a look of sheer ecstasy. Her eyes were closed, and there was a grin on her face that seemed to power her whole body. I could see that the warmth of her grin spread through her and she didn’t notice the cold. She only twirled and swayed, as if she were the only person in the world. And in that moment, watching her, I knew I had no reason to feel sorry for her. This dancer was perfectly content.

 

 

Author's Note

Ah, I didn't know what genre to put this in.
But anyways, this is based on personal experience...
Feedback appreciated!

Reviews

[Daniel]

"Maybe it was to escape from her life; her life, like a piece of worn fabric, with stains of poverty and shame emblazoned on it." --- This line is pefect!

Great read. It seems like an inspirational piece, and yet it's a true story - or based on one. It's a great story and the feeling I took from it was: don't worry about the worldy things, just be true to yourself.

Keep up the great job! =D