Ideas and Shorts

2: The Little Dancer

Adele was the smallest. She was the youngest of a healthy household of princes and princesses, and she was the smallest in stature, a very petite little one. Oftentimes, people found her dancing down the corridors, usually on her way to the castle gardens at the center of the inner grounds, her short blonde hair tied, almost glowing in the sun. Adele loved to wear her little white dress that fit her perfectly with her white satin slippers, which glimmered silver in the moonlight from the ornate arched windows.

She daintily danced everywhere she went and radiated sunshine from her countenance. She always made a point to make the others laugh or dispel a stressful atmosphere, until she could see everyone smiling and at ease once more. She was especially close with her father, who always praised her for her new dances, letting her perform when she wished (even if it was during fancier dinners with guests.)

~~~

Then it happened. The war. She never really saw it. She didn't understand it--but she felt it stifling everyone around her, like a giant weed towering over a small, manicured garden, seeping the life away from everything around it. Her siblings didn't laugh as much. Her mother worried. Her oldest brother was thinning, as he had taken his place at the throne. Adele stopped dancing everywhere. She became solemn, and felt that the air was too heavy to dance any longer. Instead, she took up embroidery, sitting at her window seat on the third floor, awaiting the end of this painful season. Only her father stayed strong, and tried to guide her oldest brother the best he could, knowing that all would work out in the end. He kept his large family going, and after the war was over, he was first to relish in the freedom that was felt from the burden of loss lifting off their shoulders.

~~~

She looked back to the years behind her as her father came towards her, sat down across from her on a brown leather armchair similar to the one she was sitting on herself. He was quiet in that moment, not yet ready to start his conversation, almost as if he was waiting for something. In that moment, Adele began to think one of her recurring thoughts of late, really one she had been thinking since the end of the long war.

How did I go from dancing all the time to sitting about all day long with such a somber face? Where did my passion go? I will have this no longer. I will dance my heart out again, and I will become strong, she thought emphatically.

Her father smiled. He asked kindly, "What is my little flower thinking of today?" He wanted to lighten the mood--she knew that.

"I was thinking of my dancing, Father."

She didn't want to bother him with superfluous words and was still feeling burdened by her thoughts.

Her father mischievously smiled and asked, "May I have this dance?" He bowed and stretched out his worn hand.

Surprised, Adele merely nodded and took his hand in hers. They began waltzing to a tune the former king hummed, and before long Adele was dancing with the same fervor as before.  

She danced. She danced and danced, until all the pain, worry, and heaviness was stripped away from her person. She finally breathed fresh air, smelling the roses of spring once more. Adele vowed never again to let anything come in the way of her dancing, deciding that her gift should be forever cherished.

~~~
Note/disclaimer: anyone who knows me personally might assume that the title is sarcastic, but it's not. Just thought I'd point that out.

This was intended to be a short story. :)