Dancing Through Life

Part 1

Hello everyone! I wanted to thank you for taking the time to read the first part of my short story. I'm hoping to continue writing more for this storyline, so leave a comment below and tell me how you liked it!

Thanks much!

-SammyJane <3

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Waltzing in a tiny apartment is dangerous. How do I know this? Because one solitary winter's night, when I was all by myself, I had the King and I soundtrack blasting through the small speakers of my laptop, and when the King tells you to dance, you dance. I closed my eyes and saw everything; the palace, the King with his oh-so-shiny bald head, the luxurious finery, and let it sweep my away as I began to do my version of the waltz like they perform in the movie. So, while I was waltzing, which was more of an alternating one foot hop, around the room, I stepped backwards and went head over heels over my couch, badly bruising my shoulder and narrowly missing the very sharp-edged wooden box I call a coffee table. This, however, did not scare me in the least. After I picked myself off of the floor, I started up again, being careful to not get close to the couch and not to move my shoulder too much. I didn't care who saw me. I just wanted to sing, to dance, to live my dreams of being someone else for a few moments, and I could've cared less who saw.

Or so I thought.

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The night was similar to the night of The Death Waltz, except it was summer, and the warm night air convinced me to open up my front windows, letting the jasmine-scented breeze play with my curtains. Now these windows faced the courtyard of my apartment, which was nothing more than a small flowerbed filled with dying tulips. Two doors stood adjacent from mine across the courtyard; one, off to the left, had been empty for a couple of months, the tenants had found better accommodations with less bugs. The other apartment, straight across the courtyard from mine, had just been occupied by a new tenant. However, as my job kept me busy, I hadn't had the chance to introduce myself as of yet.

I was cleaning the kitchen from a simple dinner of zucchini, chicken, and rice, humming along to whatever song came up on my 19 hr and 12 min. musical theater playlist. It wasn't until I heard a familiar tune play that I stopped rinsing the rice pot, slowly set it down into the sink, and started singing at the top of my lungs.

"Dance ten, looks three!" I threw my hands outwards, sending soap flying as I began to sashay my way around my kitchen.

"And I'm still on unemployment, dancing for my own enjoyment," Now came the legs; I pointed my toe and kicked my leg as high as it would go, which wasn't very high at all. Not letting this faze me, I continued with my crooning,

"That ain't it kid, that ain't it kid! Dance ten, looks three, it's like to die! Left the theater and called the doctor for my appointment to buy," I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the best part of the song.

"Tits, and ass!" I sang in a high, slightly whiney tone, jutting out my chest as well as my ass in time with the lyrics in an attempt to be "sexy," and "smooth." I probably looked like the chicken I had eaten earlier when it was still alive. No, I most definitely looked like the chicken, I am not a dancer by any means.

"Tightened up the derrière! Did the nose with it, all that goes with it!" By this point I was too far gone, I had to keep going full out or completely stop my jam just as it was getting good. So I danced and I sang like there was no tomorrow. I danced horribly, but I danced with all of my heart, jumping and kicking and trying to be sexy all over the room as I kept right on singing.

The song was coming to its big finish with brassy trumpets blaring, and I took full advantage of the copious amounts of adrenaline pumping in my veins to put all I could into the last few lines,

"Tits, and ass, yes tits, and ass, have chaaaaaaaaanged, myyyyyyyyyyy," I breathed deep for the final note,

"Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiife!"

And there I stood, hands raised in the air like a gymnast who had just completed a quadruple backflip handspring, grinning like a complete idiot. After attempting to catch my breath, I was getting ready to go back to cleaning when I heard... clapping. Not boisterous clapping, like after Bernadette Peters sings "Children Will Listen" in front of thousands, but one single, slow clap, echoing across the darkened courtyard. My heart still beat wildly as I looked towards the sound. As my eyes made out who was standing there, my face turned about 7 different shades of red, each becoming increasingly deeper. A tall, muscular man leaned casually in the doorway of the apartment, the lights from his room illuminating bits of his golden hair. Though it was dark, I could make out his face, laughing eyes, a mouth that was grinning from ear to ear like a pre-pubesant boy who had just heard a dirty joke. He was clapping at me, and that's when it hit me.

Oh god.

He had seen everything.

He had seen me jut out my chest like a chicken, nearly fall over from trying to kick high, try and do the splits and crumple up in pain momentarily as I most definitely did not have my splits.

I was mortified. I nearly melted into a embarrassed puddle as I sank to the ground, tears welling up in my eyes. I looked like a fool, and I hated looking like a fool in front of others more than anything else in the world. His laughter, a cross between a goat and a breathless mule, made me cringe as I felt a pang in my heart. I just wanted to disappear.

Quickly standing up, I ran to every lamp and lightswitch I could, attempting to turn them all off before escaping to the comfort of my bedroom. As I collapsed on my bed, nearly in tears over the night's events, I could hear the guy's laughter slowly fading away as he shut his door. I didn't think I could ever face that guy. I reassured myself that I would probably never see him again, as long as I made sure to be careful. Breathing in deep to calm my racing heart, I hid my head under a pillow and tried to sink into the bed, where no dumb blonde guys would ever see me make a fool of myself again.