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The Dancing King

They were calling him the dancing king. Unimaginable gracefulness was coming out of every move and step he has ever created. People were turning around after him, glancing with wonder at this unimaginable persona. Dance with heart legs will follow is the only motto a real dancer believes. He wasn't a professional and he could never be. Chasing trophies or fame is not something a dancing king would live for. The thrill is in the moment, there, on the dancing floor surrounded by brothers and sisters who share the same philosophy of life. Emotions take over the logical mind and let the soul free to triumph in the skies. The music is the one that matters. Forget about the worries, the day behind and the day after. Be the dancing king for a second. Be the hero of the story at least once.

- "You look embarrassingly stupid." said once a spiteful stranger with a mocking smile.

- "I don't care and that's all that matters!" the king kept dancing like the devil's spit was under his feet.

Until my last breath. He would dance absolutely everywhere, overcoming any physical laws for the sake of the dance. I saw him once on a ceiling performing a quintuple axel and landing on a rolling wine keg. The most spectacular thing I've ever seen. Old people recount stories about the past days when he was dancing on the edge of a tsunami wave or in the middle of a boiling crater. Travelling around the world and showing magical performances was the solely purpose of his life. Aspiring thousand of teenagers to follow the king's steps was more than enough. Looking at their eyes filled with tears of joy was more than a man would ever want.

- "Hey! Let's dance." A simple sentence that meant so much.

- "Ok! That's all I need, baby. "

Countless days entirely spent listening to merry songs and making the stupidest moves on the planet. A rare talent that leaves you think is this guy for real? There's no way someone like this exists and breaths the same air as me. Does he drink milk from a leprechaun or eat fruits from the tree of might? Something inexplicable happens when the king gets into the dancing state of craziness and hotness. The saxophone, and the guitar, and the piano, and the violin, and the accordion, and the clarinet, and the trombone, and the flute, and. One word – music. One word – dance. Sometimes music speaks more than everything. Sometimes a dance shows more than everything.

- "Give me a sec. I can't breathe anymore." words spoken with a throat drier than a desert

- "Rest is for the dead!"

Being around the king is the ultimate privilege that everyone should be delighted, when experience the fortuitous meeting. Sing your lungs out for the King! Once, he was in a seemingly dead bar with plenty of people who had lost the impulse of the moment. Creating a delirious atmosphere from nothing was his . Nobody knew him and that was a rare chance that could not be missed. Right hand twist, left foot twist was the slow start of a one man show. First signs of awakening were shown, the buzz of conversations suddenly started triggered by this strange figure on the dancing floor. A group of drunk old ladies gave shouts of approval and demonstrated some impressive moves. The king grabbed a beautiful girl in the whirl of swing, continuing with a barrel roll, and then throwing her in the air, followed by a double salto and a gracious catch in the last moment.

- "Wo - ah – oo – ae – gj – ii – w" she mumbled in utter astonishment.

- "Don't worry sweetheart, don't worry!" the king knew what he's doing.

The crowd was going mental, bras were flying across the room, grown men were crying, the party was on. The magic of the dancing king was activated and there was no way back from there. Like a master hypnotist, he was captivating the whole bar's attention with the most magnetic charisma among all the magnetic charismas. The party lasted three days and four nights until the four bars and six stores on the street run out of any alcohol. The party of the decade left unforgettable memories and mad stories for the next generations. The king in his prime only meant complete insanity. After such a party, people need a month to recover and years to rationalize the event, of course, without success. He loved the feeling of sore feet and dry throat on the mornings after every party marathon. Sitting on the edge of the bed with a wide smile and thinking about all the wonderful people who shared the same emotion.

- "When is the next one?" A curious lad asked.

- "Only the time will show."