"Huff...huff" small beads of sweat trickled down my face, kissing the marble floor. It was getting harder to breathe, it felt as if there was a barbed wire around my lungs, tightening with every gasp of breath I took. Choking back the bile forming in my mouth, I dragged my black and blue body towards the mirror to where I was standing right in front of it. The hideous marks of failure were the first thing my eyes saw, the beam of sunlight coming from the plated glass windows highlighted them even more. As if the sun was mocking me, mocking my futile attempts to reach even a fragment of talent my late mother had.
She was an extraordinary ballerina, the choreographer of the dance I oh-so butcher everyday I come to this God forsaken place. She would be disappointed if she saw me. With a sigh, I turned my gaze from the mirror and walked to the centre of the studio, each step heavy then the other. "Why am I still here, just to suffer?" This question has been floating in my mind for a long time, long enough that I should have that answer by now and I do. I do not have a choice, not when my mother told me to dance for her in her honey glazed voice. Not when she gave her up dancing so she could take care of me. I made her a promise, a promise to dance to her piece in front of the world and I intend to keep it.
Soon days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months and before I knew it I was exactly three days away from facing my promise. Three days away from attending the Youth America Grand Prix, it is the creme da la creme of all ballet competitions. Only the very best of ballet dancers take part in it and if that was not intimidating enough, it happens to be that my mother- Abigail Woods- won the gold medal back when she was my age and then there is me, still in the dance studio trying not to drag my ancestors name in the dirt. My train of thoughts were broken when a fruity voice filled my ears,
"I am surprised you are still holding up" halting from my spins, I turned to see a teasing smile resting on a rather tall figure, I blinked in confusion as his steel eyes turned into crescents, followed by a hearty laugh. The sound bounced off the walls, and filled the room. "Is he laughing at me? I bet he saw how stupid I looked while dancin-",
"I see u here every day" he continued "at some point i figured you lived here" he chuckled and i let out a small smile. "You could say that, though if I did then I would not have an excuse to slack off. '' I remarked, his pale face twisted into a confusion and with 3 long strides he stood in front of me. "I am not sure if I will follow, I saw myself mesmerised by your performance. Every emotion was executed perfectly" he gave a sheepish smile.
"Though, I feel as if there is something holding you back" Catching me off guard, the previous smile fell from my face. "What are you trying to imply here? '' my stunned gaze said it all, daring him to push any further. Sensing my dislike, he put his hands up in defence. "You have it all wrong here, I do not have any ill-intentions. I am simply here to converse with my fellow competitor." My eyes widened, "competitor? Of course, why else would he be here? If he did not dance himself" wishing not to carry out this conversation any further, I turned my back and continued from where I felt off. " I know where I am not wanted , so I will do you a favour and leave" He opened the door, stopping mid-way, " I have one question to ask you" there was a pause and I could feel my heartbeat quicken, eyes drilling at the back of my head. "Do you enjoy dancing?"
It felt like an arrow pierced my heart, the words echoing in my head. It is a simple question but...why is that I am speechless? I should jump on an opportunity to defend myself, to defend my mother and to defend her passion. Even then, I stand here, caught in my inner battle. A flower-like silence had filled the studio, I was not even sure if the cause of this was still in this room and frankly, I did not care. This was my life, every day I would leave my house, only to spend the night here. If this was not love then what was, I did this because I found shelter in it, or I used too.
Blinking back the tears filling my eyes, I turned to look in the mirror. I saw myself, not the black and blue marks, not the worn out shoes tapped on to my feet. I saw myself and I was happy. My lips started to tremble, a single tear squeezed out of my wild eyes, followed by another. I was not ashamed, as I was aware of the conditions of my heart for a long time but like a broken toy, I pushed them aside. But no more of that. I whipped my tears with the back of my hand and let my eyes wander to the door from where the mysterious man left and smiled as I knew I had completed my promise to my mother. I knew I loved to dance.
____FIN____
(A/N): Hello :) It's A here,I hope you enjoyed this very...very short story, this is just something I cooked up for a English assignment ( which wasn't even accepted lol) Maybe i'll turn this into a full-blown story one day. Let me know if you would like that :) Thank you so much for reading and I'll see yeah next time <3
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The Masked Ballerina (SHORT STORY)
Teen Fiction" I have one question to ask you" there was a pause and I could feel my heartbeat quicken, eyes drilling at the back of my head. "Do you enjoy dancing?" When you're dying mother's only request is to continue on dancing-something you have loved sinc...
