The woman glided silently through the decomposing proscenium. Her gown was as gray and lifeless as the stone falling round her. And the theatre was gloomy and quiet. Dead. As many things do. It had already been filled with sunlight and music. When the woman was tense, she could almost hear the clapping and laughing.
She remembered the vibrating ballerina who was twirling. Jumping to the starry sky. But this girl had left, and so had the world where she lived. Although her graceful posture was still present, the woman had almost forgotten how to dance.
She was always worried about it. If not, why should she return every year without fail? But passions were dead together. She could not sense the music rising inside her. And she never danced for anyone else's soul. But, at times, while her mocking muscles and bad memory dragged her into her most impressive roles, she could feel it.
YOU ARE READING
Dancing with the dead
FantasyA young girl lives in an imaginary world where she dances with spirits in an old abandoned theatre.
