Prologue:

87 2 0
                                    

The evening streets of New York City were their typical buzz as people wandered, rushing to their destinations.  It's kind of amazing to see - especially from the 18th floor of a high rise apartment balcony. 

Diane sat and watched - people mindlessly swarming in and out of buildings, oblivious to their surroundings.  Yellow cabs weaving around other vehicles, and pedestrians alike, almost as if they were caught at the crescendo of an intricate ballet, performing for a breathless audience.  Leaning over, resting against the iron balcony ledge, Diane heaved a heavy sigh as she allowed her ears to record the hustle and bustle for possibly the last time.  Most would find this particular scene as hectic or stressful, but to her, this was as comforting as listening to a steady heartbeat.

"I'll miss you, my dear friend," her voice melancholy.  Grabbing for her crutches leaning against the balcony rail, Diane turned and made her way inside to her small apartment, filled with moving boxes.

Sitting on one of the boxes, she reached for a framed photo in a nearby bag.  The picture of her debut all those years ago.  Tracing her fingertips over the glass her heart sank again.  Dancing on Broadway was her dream and she achieved it at eighteen.  Seven years.  Seven full years of auditions, rejections, call-backs, hires, costumes, practices, opening nights and fallen curtains all coming to an end.  All over one slippery stage.  One misstep.  One loud tear she could feel all up and down her leg.  One doctor explaining a torn ACL to end a dream.  Tomorrow she'd be packed up and picked up by her childhood friend from back home in Alexandria, Virginia to close this chapter of her life.  Diane had sacrificed so much to have this dream.  She'd left behind her Mother, her friends and relationships.  Nothing was as important to her as dancing.  Nothing. 

Diane had spent most of the time she was in the hospital after her injury and during her surgery, trying to think of what she could do with her life now that she was leaving her dream.  She could teach.  Yes!  She could teach dance to eager young minds and bodies and pass on her passions to others.  It was decided that after rehab, and getting her flexibility back, she'd start this new path.  It would be a strain on her body, but far less demanding than what she'd been doing all these years. 

Placing the frame back into the box, Diane mindlessly fingered her first pair of pointe shoes.  The old satin material, tattered and torn, still brought joy to her face as she remembered the first time she received them and slipped her feet inside.

"We'll be together again soon, my friends.  I promise."

"

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.

Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Pointe Of No Return. (W.I.P)Where stories live. Discover now