The Ballerina

Don't lose your inner dancer.

     All she needed was a firm grip on the barre, and her memories.

     

     The lone bare light bulb hanging in the center of the room shook furiously as a train thundered past nearby. But she didn't notice.

     Her eyes were closed, her mind somewhere else. Her arms were curved gracefully, floating through the air. Her pointed chin was held high. She moved like a well-oiled machine, a ballerina, high class, though her hair was scraggly and matted, her clothes ripped and faded.

     Still, her eyes were closed tight, almost stubbornly as she turned, stepped, and jumped forward. Perfect angles, everything fit together. She flitted quickly and confidently around and around, seemingly aware of every wall, every obstacle.

     The empty room was alive with motion. The image of her, twisting and leaping, lingered even as she continued across the room.

     Suddenly, she stopped in mid-step, standing next to a pile of yellowed newspapers. She looked around, scared and confused, at the stacks of papers, empty buckets, overturned chairs, puddles of rainwater, rusty support beams......and the barre, made of fresh pale wood, nailed to the wall.

     A gentle smile fell like a crashing wave onto her face, taking away the confusion as it receded.

     She slowly stepped towards the barre, sidestepping an old spray paint can. She reached out and ran her hand across the smooth wood, back in her own little world. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the barre with her whole heart and soul, like it was the only good thing left in her life. 

     She closed her eyes again and began to smile, halfheartedly moving her feet around. Her smile grew with her excitement. She started to move her feet and arm faster, her other arm still locked on the barre. She seemed to be concentrating, trying to remember a routine from long ago. She smiled more as she found her rhythm, and nonexistent piano music filled the silent room.

     There was a sharp crashing sound, frightening her back to reality. A stack of newspapers had fallen over, onto an old hubcap. 

     She fell to her knees, surveying the damage her foot had done. She held the newspaper in her hands, then crumpled it angrily. She stood up, and kicked the newspapers over and over. She grabbed some and flung them up in the air. Her face was twisted into an expression of pure rage.

     She stopped throwing the newspapers and caught her breath. She tried to calm herself down, ran her hands through her hair and gently rocked back and forth.

     Her head snapped up suddenly. Her eyes were wide and frantic. She was looking out of the big window that covered the wall across from her.

     She was looking right at me.

     I felt a chill run down my spine, but I couldn't look away. She started walking towards me, still looking me directly in the eye. Her face flashed from curiosity to anger.

     Get out of here. Run! Go, I told myself. But I couldn't lift my feet.

     She was close now, close enough to touch if not for the window. She looked nothing like the graceful creature I saw before.

     Miraculously, I was able to rip my feet away from the pavement. I grabbed my briefcase and started walking away.

     Against my better judgement, I stopped in my tracks. I turned around slowly, then quickly made my way back to the window.

     I rubbed my eyes, just to be sure that I was seeing straight.

     She was gone.

     The room was empty except for the clutter, the single light bulb swinging from a rusty chain, and the feeling that something was missing.

Author's Note

I thought of this in dance class. Tell me what you think!

Reviews

[Gianna Perry]

it sounds like my old studio! there was the big window looking out to the parking lot with a bench under it and there was always crap under the window on the outside. weird.

I love it, everything about it. love love love it. but...um... is it creepy and weird that I pictured the person watching as a mr. griffin type? ....

~GIANNA! :D

[David W Moore III]

very nice, a bit haunting but very nice.

[Matthew Kult]

Hello Kasey,

I think this was a very well crafted story. It was beautiful and the imagery was wonderful. An excellent story.

Regards,

Matthew

[Ruth]

Your use of description here is moving hon!
You describe such a place with vibrancy!
Eerie and inviting at the same time!
Beautifully written
xx

[Jong Schrijver]

I can't really relate to this but you did such a great job descriptively that I don't need to. A beautifully crafted story, as usual. Keep it up!

[Coyote Poetry]

A very good tale. Those lonely places can make us think of the odd things of a life. I like the story. You create a location and interesting events. A outstanding story with a very good ending. Mystery.
Coyote

[Kasey Jones]

Gianna,
I was thinking of the dance school I go to when I wrote it, but if it ever gets abandoned and run-down.

And...it actually is quite fitting that you thought of a Mr. Griffin type lol.

And thanks!!

[Rosalyn Marie]

oh ok then :D so its left to interpetation... well you know mine haha :)

[Kasey Jones]

That's the mystery.

[Rosalyn Marie]

Really good great descriptions :) I can totally picture the room and the dancer. But I'm a little confused about the part with the person outside.. is it a man or woman? because if its a woman then I'm understanding that maybe she was walking home from work and passed by an abandoned dance studio and was remembering when she was a dancer and was like seeing her self through the window or something... yeah just a little confused please explian thanks :) other than that really nice :D