The Dancer and The Doll

~Write The Next Chapter~ (End)

However, the Dancer knew better now. She wasn't longing for anything. In fact, she held not even a fleeting trace of sentiment in her precious stone eyes.

The music player began to sound eerie. It performed a haunting piano melody, slow, echoing, vibrations that met nothing but empty rooms...

The Dancer shuddered; goose bumps arose on his skin as he backed away from his dolls... his treasured creations... He would be abandoning his past, his fame, his glory and his most prized possessions. The prospect of leaving everything to dusty memory made the Dancer's heart race. He could hear it pounding in his chest, wild and confused.

He tore his eyes away from Rose and the surrounding room. As the last, long, petrifying note abolished every shred of silence, he turned tail abruptly and raced down the stairs, out of the attic.

The song ended, leaving only the Dancer's rapid footsteps to echo out, spurred on by determination.

The Dancer rushed outside, slamming the front doors open, slipping around the once magnificent entrance gates and away down the old road. Though he tripped and stumbled, the Dancer did not stop until he had gone far enough to feel safe.

Bent over, hands on his knees, he was breathing hard. He had gotten farther away from his past with every step. For a fleeting second, as he turned his head to look back, he regretted his decision.

The Dancer felt another chill run through him; he could see Rose in the window, looking down at him among the decaying buildings, he, the only human life in the desolate place.

Shaking his head, making this decision final he whispered to the unoccupied houses around him, and to Rose, almost in particular. "I must leave... " A spark of revelation alighted in his eyes, "The bars of this self-imposed prison have become weak and now I am free." The Dancer walked away.

He simply left.