Dance of Grace

Part 1

There were three sisters residing in small crumbling house, a sheer reflection of their poverty. Their home was on the outskirts of a Italian Village where time stretched on, or so it seemed. Hope withered away in the shadows in this miserable town and the outskirts weren't much better. The eldest Maria was 21, had taken the role of guardian for her two sisters Sophia the 17 year old who's tempered nature was fought with daily and innocent Monica the 15 year old - therefore the youngest. Monica was still tender, especially being the youngest and having to endure the grief at such a small age. Monica was caught between childhood dreams and the harsh reality. The girls lives had been heavy since their mothers passing almost 5 years ago, and their father's departures soon after had left Maria to raise the younger ones, Sophia and Monica.

Poverty gripped them tightly, and the sisters were often longed for the warmth and love that was something they wondered they imagined as they recall experiencing it so long ago. Their mother has been everything to them - a source of grace and strength, even as she withered away battling the cruel disease of cancer that had taken her away. The girls saw their mothers face in their dreams, her laugh in the breeze, and her touch in the gentle light of dawn. However, that yearning for her, that deep awful ache was never replaced or voided. It cut so deep and haunted them making their life burdening and feel much heavier every New Year when the gifted yet unwanted calendar was disposed of and replaced.

Their Neighbour, whom was an elderly Russian woman lived in a rundown home not far from the girls home. She had always kept shy. She who was a quiet artist and reader would come visit the girls maybe once every 6 months to offer help. Just to let the girls know she was nearby even though she wasn't that much help at her withered age. When the girls had learned news that she had passed away, although sad and confused, they were soon to discover they had inherited a few of the Russian woman's belongings. It wasn't much, mainly paintings she once kept from her own creations and very old photography of her ancestors the girls assumed. Among this the sisters found an old antique box where a sketch of a flower was taped onto, possibly for the use of a easel. The girls opened the box to discover music playing and a ballerina figurine twirling giving it ambience of enchantment... It was a timeless Russian jewellery box.

Beautifully crafted, worn with age however still delicate in its carved design. The tiny ballerina figurine was still inside, poised mid dance at the end of the enchanted like melody that had an eerie edge to it. The ballerina figurine had its once graced limbs was affected by time, that it moved rigidly.

"Here," Maria said, surprising Monica with a soft smile.

"You should keep it."

Monica's eyes widened as she accepted the gift, her heart lifting out of the sorrow. For a second, she forgot the endless dark pit that had clung to her home.

There was something unique and vivid about this jewellery box though, something made her feel connected to a world outside their village.

The next morning, at exactly 8:30, Monica opened the box to hear that familiar melody. She watched as the ballerina began her graceful automated spin, she opened and closed the box over and over to watch the ballerina on repeat and hear that melody over and over. Oddly enough by 10:00 am, something occurred. Monica noticed that the figurine had halted her spinning - not because the music had ended, but because the ballerina... had come to life.