Kenya

Giselle, get up.

The lights from above rained on me as I danced I knew there was a spotlight tracing my every move but I ignored it. I made sure my legs were absolute straight when I jumped, I kept my form intact and smiled when necessary. Recitals weren't just about dance, its about acting "you have to be Giselle, breathe Giselle, dance Giselle." I echoed the words of my dance tutor in my head as I spun I was free. However, when the curtains dropped for the next scene I realised I was anything but it. 

Lucas was present in this scene. 

I looked out to him from backstage. To the audience he looked like a strong dancer with great skill, amazing endurance and control but to me, his best friend I saw hurt and pain.  A lonely tear threatened to escape from my eyes but I supressed it. "Be strong" I whispered to my friend knowing there was no way he could hear me above the loud noise of the orchestra. 

I was up next and I was to dance along Lucas and so I felt happy to know that I could somehow manage a small amount of eye contact to calm my poor friend. I wondered if he somehow felt guilty for kissing me. That would be ridiculous there was no way we could've known that a director would waltz in and see us. I personally felt guilty for inviting him in to help in the first place. If I hadn't had called him in he wouldn't have been seen with me the "indecent" young lady and wouldn't have been cornered into his company without a recognition of his talent. 

The violin played its part, a sign for me to also join the stage. I curved in and out the dancers like the meanders of a river and took note of the masses of people who were watching. It didn't phase me I'd performed many a times at grand concerts like this on greater scale but I couldn't help but feel my confidence deplete slightly. I decided to find a way to make contact with my best friend. I raised my foot slightly higher when I dipped from a turn earning a great roar from the audience but also letting Lucas know I wanted him. It was a sign that we'd learnt to communicate with each other. An over extension of any movement was to show the other that they were either in trouble or in need of moral support. Lucas responded and did a beautiful jump in front of me holding eye contact with me to which I smized (smiled with my eyes) and in a flash he was gone as if he was never there but I knew he must've been affected for the better by the small gesture. 

I carried on, this time following the routine effortlessly and was gliding across the stage like a swan in water with grace and with love.

This is my passion.

This is my gift.

No small director was going to make me feel worthless. I was more than capable of becoming successful, I was more than happy to join his company because I earned it and bled for it. I trained for it until my body was left raw and my sight blurry. So, whatever these circumstances may be, I deserved it. I told myself those words over and over until I transferred it into my dance and the effort I was putting in increased by 100% .

I added slight variations of the routine that I'd seen great dancers achieve and aced each and every single one of them because of my strong mentality the crowd was on fire and the routine was almost done. I knew there was but ten seconds left of the recital and I was to close it with a single bow but from all the energy I had released from the moves I had added I could no longer stand. I decided to end I had to fall and although that was not the ending which was expected I knew it was better than attempting a bow and falling flat on my face and so with a second or two left I fell onto the stage extending my arms until they covered my body before me. Exhaustion rippled through my bones and I gave way as the curtains dropped finally and all I could hear was the roar of the audience before I lost all consciousness.

"Giselle, get up" a cold voice said.