Deer Ballerina

Part 1

(English is not my first language so if you want to you may comment on all the mistakes I made!)

I made a Writing Vlog while I was writing this. If you are looking for some writing motivation here it is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lTa8Wa_ZzFg

It got raging reviews. Every critic wanted a part of the sensation that occurred one day after the students of the School of Ballet performed their senior piece in August. We had tickets in fifth row, number 31 to 33.

It was the most horrific thing I had ever seen. Not because the dancers were bad but because of the Pas de deux. The stage was lit up with just candles, rushed in by a faceless group of little girls. Fog came in from the sides which is why we only saw her when she wanted to be seen. When she rose her arms, they looked like black sticks in front of all the white. He entered the stage from the side and pulled her up. Their performance sucked you in like the act of love itself. She was the most graceful being that the audience had ever encountered, otherworldly one journalist described it. Her movements were fluid, not disrupted by her quick intermezzos. Then you could barely see she moved at all.

All her being oozed fright and the wish to be reunited with something lost. The male dancer was apparently not what she was looking for, she ran from and towards him without a break. He tried everything to calm her down but apparently was not able. We could not understand how this tiny girl was able to pull off this difficult routine, jumping over and over and over, crossing the entire stage in pirouettes on point. After minutes, everyone was worried for her health and agitated by her restlessness, people shimmied in their seats.

Finally, she broke. The sound of cracking followed her from a high jump to a clash on the stage. Screams from frightened children and adults echoed through the audience. The male dancer lifted her above her head, caressed and carried her out.

First there was silence. We didn't know what to do, shocked by this unsettling and disturbing performance. Then someone started the inferno and everyone joined in. The piece had become a success, we were almost standing on our stools when they came out to bow. This piece of art had touched us differently than other ballets had: It had not made us admire the effortless beauty but the cold rudeness of a searching heart, never stopping until breaking down.

But not everyone is as fortunate to be picked up again.