A Tragic Movement

Tragedy strikes in the worse way.

The lights were off the red curtains closed. I was in the position my hands stretched towards the sky as if I was holding the sun, my leg stretched straight behind me, body tilted at a slight angle. I felt as if I could actually fly away, that the wings stitched into my white diamond encrusted dress could actually stretch out and take me to the heavens. I struggled to keep my breathing even; Today was the day I had been waiting for. I had worked so hard to gain this solo. Competed against and defeated so many other highly talented individuals. 

I had earned this. 

The music began it was Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. My heart was pounding and as the red curtains lifted I fought to regain composure. The light hit my eyes blinding me for a moment, I could see the crowd that numbered in the thousands. I began my first movement, my hands folding to my chest as I arched backward. The slow play of the piano guiding me, each key, every note resonating in my heart. I was the dove who yearned to fly, whose dream was to fly high and soar through the clou-

BANG! 

There was no pain. No sound. But I could see I was falling, the crowd was going insane. Running wild, people trampling others. Women holding their small babies high trying to save them from the commotion. I was rather confused I didn't know what was happening, for some reason the music wasn’t playing any longer. As if Beethoven himself had run from whatever tragedy happened.  

On the floor, I saw they ruby red blood flow out in front of me. A face was nearly pressed into mine. The man looked to me screaming. I knew this man. Jack. The man who choreographed this beautiful piece. Jack Rust. Jack my lover. Jack my fiance. Jack the father of my unborn child. I was going to tell him after the performance was a success. He would have been so happy. Demanded we move the wedding to the very next day they had available. 

My last thought before my eyes closed for the last time was how happy we would have been, could have been and how devastated my love would be without me there. How sorry I was that I would leave him alone to suffer this tragedy. 

This dove would live her dream, she’d fly higher than anyone and watch over her love from the clouds. 

Reviews

[Chris]

"The lights were off the red curtains closed." - perhaps a comma after "off"?

A unique turn of phrase and events here. Perception-based does make it different. As a short story - goes well with coffee.

[Kathrine Rethorn]

Yes, I'll definitely change that. And thank you!!!

[Chris]

you're welcome...

[Kumala]

what happened to her? how did she die? this story is thrilling, I need to know more?

[Kathrine Rethorn]

Kind of open ended. Basically she was shot, probably from a jealous competitor. Or just a shooting and she was the unlucky one. Thank you for reading!

[Kumala]

ah I did suspect a shooting. Such a tragedy.