The Contract of an Angel | [Short Story]

Rhea Remley 2016

Along the edges of the rooftops, a dancer dares not open her eyes for fear of what she might see. She braves a shaky blind step, moving as if suddenly surprised by a beckoning voice in the wind. When the delicate fabric of an aged pointe shoe finally lands on solid roofing, she accepts fate's hand with eyes shut. She glides away from the lip of danger, rounding a courageous tour jetê in order to implement a change of direction. The dangerous dance-- unsafe, even if her eyes would dare to open-- brings life to undead tendons within a moribund heart. Though her heart is weighted by fear, the dancer's steps are lively and her muscles spring with ease as the blood begins to thicken anew.

The dancer's breath hitches in her chest when her foot brushes empty space. For the terrifying flash of a second, she loses her balance and begins to fall. Her eyelids clench tighter and she holds her breath as her other foot careens forward. She dares not open her eyes but she knows she stands on the cusp of either life or death. One more step and she might never walk or dance again.

The dancer's heart pounds like an unsteady hand upon death's door. She is testing the limits of a God in which she is not entirely confident. The dancer was raised to believe that good faith is all she needs to convene a sort of salvation from a merciful God. Salvation admittedly does sound more desirable than the oblivion that she currently lives.

The wearying dancer piqué dégagés to another position on pointe, unsure if this footfall will be the one to send her toppling down to the street below. She is keenly aware that to test the Christian God is a sin-- and she will likely not receive much satisfaction in the end. However, if a God truly exists, the dancer believes she will not suffer the seven-story drop to a fate worse than the hell she already occupies. Her toe lands firmly on the concrete leveled six inches below where she previously stood.

The antiquated roofing tears at her fragile pointe shoes with each landing upon gritty and groaning structural roofing. She does not twirl along a smooth roofed skyscraper, but rather, atop a warehouse between the alleys of two streets lined with historic suburbs just outside of industrial belt of New York. This abandoned building, that she dances along now, is in the process of long-term decay and has been since its neglect in the eighties. It could collapse beneath her weight after any bounding leap.

That's why she's chosen to dance here, specifically.

Despite the distant pain of her harsh dance, the contemplative dancer seems to ignore the bitter sting of each rough landing, of every step. Stronger than the shoes that fail her, however, which by now do almost nothing to alleviate the stress on her toes, she stands taller and taller with every turn. The pointe shoes are so old-- her favorite pair-- and so comfortably worn around her feet, they are unfortunately hazardous. If she's not careful, she'll easily snap an ankle-- for lack of support. Dancing career over, dreams kaput, life meaningless, if that were to be so.

At the thought, the dancer pauses briefly to open her eyes and blink for the first time in several minutes. She shakily wipes the sweat beads from across her forehead and in the crevices around her eyes, mouth, and nose. She sighs as she pulls away raw, dusty hands now damp with feverish sweat. Febrile pain ripples in her calves and thighs when she lifts them again for a glissade into a stretching developpé. The dancer is overworking herself.

She heaves the stale air above the warehouse in and out while she silently pauses to circle her ankles; the air tastes like dust. Of a mind to unlace the shredded pointe shoes, the dancer relaxes her aching toes. She leaves the shoes on after she shakes them out, however, unwilling to take the time to unravel the careful ties around each ankle. Wilting like a flower, the dancer allows herself to bend carefully into a sitting position, unconcerned with the pulverant pebbles lining the roof. She hugs her knees to her chin and closes her eyes again.