As Soft As Snow

A Chaotic Melody

I was flying. I danced around the room as the music flowed around me like water from a stream. I followed it, it was telling me what to do, whispering to me. I stumbled, and recovered. I had wings, I was flying, I was free, nothing could stop me! I danced around the room, from one pose to another, the music guiding me. It helped me like a parent would help a two year old. Flowing around the room. I slowed down my energy to not mess up as the music neared the end. The final pose.

"Simply amazing, Emilie," Madame once told me,"You'll go somewhere someday!" It was hard to imagine as I stood alone in the studio, practicing while my mom was at work. I wasn't that busy on Fridays, and./ I had special permission from Madame to use the studio to practice if I needed to. I mainly just practiced here to get away from my thoughts.

I walked over to the speakers to play the song again. I had to get it perfect, I thought as I started the song again, trying to get away from my thoughts. The music was back. It flowed around me, guiding me, trying to fix my movements to be as perfect as they needed to be. 1, 2, 3, 4. I counted the tempo in my head as I danced. I was flying again, I was in the sky with the birds, I twirled, weightless as a feather, skating on a pool of clear blue water.

The music slowed down, nearing the end. The final pose. I fell to the ground, exhausted. My stomach grumbled. Everyone else was in the lunchroom, while I was practicing here. "Emilie, you should really eat something. It's not healthy if you do this everyday," Madame said from the doorway,"Go eat lunch. I have to get ready for another class anyway."

I picked up my stuff and headed for the lunchroom, somewhat relieved to be forced out of practicing. I hadn't bothered to change before I started practicing, as I had class after lunch. I entered the lunchroom, sat down with my friends, and opened my lunchbox that I had packed myself. Turkey sandwich, some potato chips, three Oreos, a water, and some chunks of pineapple. As I talked with my friends, I felt more at home than at home.

The bell rang, and my afternoon classes began. Since I went to an art school, I had ballet in the mornings and my other classes in the afternoon like Geometry, Chemistry, and English. English was my favorite class, as the teacher just gave us a daily writing assignment, sometimes an essay or two, and sat at her desk on her phone. I didn't hate Geometry, I just hated the teacher, and maybe a little bit of the math. The chemistry today was easy, so I was on my way to English.

When I got in the classroom and sat down, the teacher got up and started writing on the whiteboard, just like yesterday. I pulled my laptop out and started working on the assignment. I loved writing;I could shape them to be anything they wanted, have anything come true, and have everything happy happen to them. The assignment today was to write a 3 page essay about something that makes you feel sad, but use 3rd person limited and a fantasy setting.

I began choosing something to write about. The time my dog died? No, too depressing. The time one of my friend's fish died? No that didn't really make me sad. What about the time that he...? No. I wasn't gonna write anything about that. You know what, I thought to myself, let's write about the time with the dog.

I enter my own world when I start writing. It seems like nothing matters to me during that time except the story in front of me. Everything fades to black and it's just the laptop screen, showing me what I've written and what I could write. Ideas floated through my head like birds. Ideas that I could grasp, and realize fully. I'd written seven or eight paragraphs before I realized that the bell had rung.

I packed up my stuff and walked to my next class, Geometry. When I sat down, the teacher started rambling about some formulas that absolutely no one cares about. While he went on and on, I started doodling in my notebook.

"Emilie, please pay attention, you'll need to know this for the test." Stated the professor, jerking me out of my drawing trance. "Sorry, I'll pay more attention." I lied as I slouched down more in my chair. The professor sighed, "Emilie, see me after class."