Step.Spin.Step

A Story by H.A

Step.Spin.Step Muscles, contract then release. Music echoes. As does her movements.

Prologue

“But let there be spaces in your togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.”-Khalil Gibran

Step.Spin.Step.Spin.

The music echoed throughout the tiled room, bounced off the softened beige walls. She practiced and practiced, not able to stop, trapped within the music.

Step. Spin. Step. Spin.

Her toned muscles throughout her legs and arms contracted then released with each movement. Her brown hair enveloped her movements, encased in herself. This was her only escape from the life she lived but even then her movements were controlled. The movements manifested kept her heart beating, the ballad allowed her to breathe the crisp air, burning her lungs as she inhaled. The life she lived was agonising, always being blamed for everything, having to work for nil. Growing up, the movement maker had nothing and was forced into labour. She was pushed by her pater into hard work, the reasons for her callouses reflected her hardships but was also from her love of the free-flowing movement. Graceful movements bled through her feet, the red splatter on crystal tile was the blood she rathered as opposed to the blood spilt from her work.

“Skylar! Tell me why you are doing these ridiculous movements? Get back to work, one day this will all be yours! And these movements will be of no help,” Her pater bellowed, his voice echoed, his arms flailed which broke me out of my coma of movements but not from my confinements. She ignored him, as her pater had always ignored her. As the ballad was turned off she collapsed onto the icy ground, she wanted to show her pater that the movements were a representation of the only thing that kept her upright. She felt a tight grip on her upper arm, which dragged her off to another world which consisted of everything but the step, spin, step, spin movements that she truly wanted but could never have.

She was brought into her office and glared at everything around her, she did not want anything to do with it but as her pater had said this was going to be her life and she would have to accept that there shall be no more movements. Skylar was forced into the dense, archaic leather seat which was situated in the middle of the dimmed room. Her pater accommodated the space in the corner, his dark, crisp clothes camouflaged into the walls and he scrutinized her as a vulture would. She got her work out, silently huffed and puffed, the sounds which were meant to be inaudible to her pater were not which caused him to glower at her. This was the life she did not want, she had to work for her pater when she would rather make movements and even had an audition unknown to him later that day but had no idea how she could escape him and if he would find her. She was sick of always having to listen to him and needed a break. The slam of her thick wooden door vibrated throughout the room which brought her out of her thoughts, the room had now resembled the jail she lived in, enclosed, the room, her cell, the mahogany door the bars, cutting her off from the world she really wanted. She tried not to ponder, as she had begun to work, she went through all the finances and business shares her pater had dropped onto her and hoped this would be the last time she would do such a thing.

When she heard the tick ring throughout the silent room which signified it was 5 o’clock, she hurriedly rose from her chair and knew that her pater would leave soon, so she could break free and make her audition in an hour. She snuck out of the room and crept down the hallway to see where her pater was located, she checked his office and noticed his presence was not there, she lingered for a second to wonder his location and then went to check his room. When she got to his room she heard his deep snoring and blew a sigh of relief but felt a shot of pique go through her that she was forced to work but he could sleep. She strode up to her room, another space which gave her a little more freedom in her trapped world then she picked up her bag full of her equipment. As she walked to the front door of her dungeon she was wary of her steps that she heard echo throughout the house, she reached the front door and halted, questions briefly floated around her mind. Would she really be able to do this? What would her pater do if- no when he finds out?

She pushed open the door feeling as it was made of lead and stepped out into the quiet area, the sun setted, an orange cast from the day ending although it was still early.

Skylar decided to walk instead of taking the car as she didn’t want to alert her pater of her disappearing presence. When she reached the ashen coloured building, she inhaled, this could be her future she thought and she was determined to do her best and did not want to care of her pater at that moment. She walked in and looked around and noticed a receptionist who eyed her up and down, the look on her face told Skylar that she was not wanted but that did not phase the movement maker. She was directed down the hall into a room where she had been able to change into her costume, a subtle, pale pink and put her long brunette hair into a donut creating the perfect bun the only thing which currently was perfect in her life, she was then handed her number to put onto her costume. She looked into the mirror and flinched at the number 13 which sat along her abdominal, Skylar’s family had always been big believers in superstitions and had hoped this one would not affect her routine. The receptionist brought her into the audition room. There was one person sat in the room, his face was stoic not revealing any emotion to his first thoughts on her, accompanied with him was her reflection and a camera, the cameras flashing light pulsing at the rhythm of her own heartbeat, the mirror which glared her reflection made her anxious but kept her alert. “When you are ready, begin,” The marker who would decide her future in his grey suit, spoke in a deep voice. The ballad flowed out of the speaker, her brain and body instantly alert. As she took a deep breath, she begun. As the lyrics were formed her movements let her escape the reality of the world. She stepped and spun and repeated the movements, the pain and force she usually felt sheltered away in the very moment, she relished it as she did not know how long it would last. As the last beat had died down so did her movements, she took a deep breath, feeling mentally pained that she had to stop, she forever wanted to create such movements. As the ballad finished, the marker spoke, “That is all, you'll get a letter back within the month if you had made your placing. You are dismissed.” His hand waved to direct her out of the room, his voice had turned robotic which alluded nothing to Skylar on her outcomes. As she walked back into the room to change back into her clothes she had a skip in her step although felt saddened at the fact she had to leave. She left the building and decided to go the long route home so she could be away from her prison for a little longer. Although everything had happened so quickly, one minute it was quiet her thoughts ran a muck, the next, there was a loud screech which reminded her of the tabby she had once owned, the smell of burnt rubber, acidic and evil had caused her to wheeze and then numbness, then pain, then nothing.

In and out of consciousness, she was reminded of the way she made her movements and felt cool liquid drip into her veins. But it was not the time for her to be awoken and she fell back into deep slumber. As she slept, she heard voices, her name spoken numerous times, once by a timid shy voice who obeyed the other voice. A male, alpha voice who she knew all too well. As she dreamt of a world full of movements, she knew her time in her utopia would be up very soon.

As she awoke her senses assaulted her, the strong antiseptic smell burnt her nostrils, the cool air which drafted through the window caused the bumps on tanned skin, the white walls blinded her grey eyes which caused her to blink rapidly. When reality fell in she looked to her right and noticed her pater seated in the plastic hospital chairs, he looked more weary and wrinkled than usual. “This is your fault you know, the movements you made were not meant to be your life, ” The words spoken by her pater caused her to visibly flinch. This was not what she expected, what she hoped for was sympathy but she was so naive, of course it was her own fault, she had run off, betrayed him and now lied in an uncomfortable hospital bed with a cast on her leg which she had just realised. “Oh my god,” Skylar whispered, she took a gulp of air and shivered at the sight of the white cast that had covered the whole of her leg. “Of today there will be no silly movement making as you call it, as you can tell by your leg,” he nodded at my leg but was not done delivering his scolding.

“You will sign the documents and take over the family company, it will be yours and your responsibility. I will see you at home, the nurse will explain your problem.” He left, just like that she had thought. The nurse and doctor had come in a few further minutes after her pater had left and had brought news which left Skylar in tears and a hiccuping mess. “Your injuries are severe, you have damaged your posterior collateral ligament which is located in your knee…” the nurse's words blurred into syllables, her brain not associating with them, the only words Skylar finally hooked onto were, “Because of the extent of your injuries you will never be able to move your body in the way you do again.” Although Skylar had heard these words spat out from her pater, it still caused immense pain to her. It felt like the world around her crumbled, falling to the pits of whatever hell there was in the world, what had she done to deserve to do this? She thought to herself.

Three weeks later she had been discharged from hospital and back into her prison, she had to learn different work for her business from her pater and different work partners. Time lapsed, the next days brought on the exact same thing, sign, copy, sign, fill in plans, sign and copy, but could not do much of the physical work she was forced to do but as all these things happened she still could not physically create movements. Skylar hobbled on her crutches to the mailbox to collect all the unwanted letters she had to open. Once she was back in the lounge room she separated the mail for her pater and herself, she heard a crinkle behind her but paid no attention to it. As she was about to hobble back she noticed a creme coloured envelope situated onto the floorwood ground, with tremendous difficulty she bent her good knee to pick up the silky envelope, she noticed her name scrawled in the middle in cursive and a familiar logo situated in the corner. Tears pricked in the corner of her eyes but she had refused to let them fall, she tucked away the envelope and trudged into her office to continue everything she did not want.

It was three months later, she had her cast removed and was able to walk around with minimal effort but was longing for her movements, longing to be free. The letter with the auditions answer still sealed, hidden away. She escaped her pater’s reigns for the day, he slowly had started to trust her again but she had not cared if she was to break it again. Before she left, she had taken the letter with her, not knowing if she was to open it today or not but knew she would one day have to brave to it. She had decided to go to the movement school to try her luck as she knew that no one would be there, the school being closed on that particular day. Skylar turned the ballad on and let herself be free or so she thought. With great trouble she tried to be as free flowing as possible but her spin, step, spin, step movements was robotic, tense and felt so unknown to herself. As she finished the last movement she felt her knee lock up and collapsed onto the ground. She felt her chest tighten but refused to give into the pain she felt emit throughout her leg, she closed her eyes and breathed. One minute she was alone the next she felt a presence help her up, she still had her eyes squeezed shut but knew this was not her pater. As she slowly peeled her eyes open, she saw the man in the suit who conducted her audition help herself onto her feet. “We heard about your accident,” the deep voice spoke to her, “The company were deeply sorry to hear and were also devastated that you had decided not to have our help to recover and join us at our company.” His words had deeply confused her, she didn’t even know she had been accepted into the company let alone tell them that she refused their help. “Um, I’m sorry but what in hell are you talking about?” Her harsh tone even shocked herself but she needed answers. “We had a man, Dean I think, call in and tell us you did not want to pursue here, is this not what you had decided?” The man hesitantly asked, but her mind was on other things, of course her pater had known she was accepted and told them that they were unwanted to her. It took an hour of conversing but she explained the confusion of what had happened and finally came to an agreement. Every week, twice a week she would break out from her pater to pursue her joy and life of movement making.

Each practice was gruelling and painful, she was told by the man- whose name she later found out was Henry- that she had gone into the movements too quickly and needed to work on her strength before any movements. There were so many times she had wanted to give up, but pushed as she knew she would fight what the nurse had told her of not movement making again and worked up to the goal of having a solo performance at the end of year which Henry had introduced her to. As she used the bar, she worked on her leg strength, teeth clenched as she fought through any discomfort and knew she would beat through her pater and have her own life. It was a month before the performance full of step and spinning movements when her pater had finally noticed something. “Skylar!” Her pater’s voiced boomed throughout the house, she flinched as she closed her laptop to head to her pater’s room. “What is the meaning of this?” He pointed to a number of photos of her, some coloured, some black and white, all of her escaping the house and entering the place she felt most freedom. He had spied on her, she was revolted at the lengths he had gone to find out what she had done. She was scared but she had built so much strength through all of this she was not going to back down from this now. “This is my life, I need this, It is the only thing keeping me alive,” she exclaimed but was not done, “Ever since I was a baby girl this was my goal and you were so inconsiderate to not allow me such a thing,” her pater’s face went crimson which reminded her of the colour of her blood which had once fallen from her feet and hands. “If this is what you truly want, you can,” hope bloomed through her body, but it suddenly crashed as he continued. “But if so, you are not to stay here and will never associate with me again.” Skylar quickly made her decision and nodded, accepting his consequences. Even though he said that she shall never associate with him again she dropped a pamphlet of her upcoming performance onto his desk, she had always kept it near so he wouldn’t see but now she would invite him. “If you ever decide that I am your daughter again, I am performing at the company and I am inviting you, if you’re there I will be happy but if not so be it.” She roughly spoke to him, nothing like she had before, she felt like a doyenne, strong and not being able to be pushed. He nodded obviously did not accept her words but she took this as a dismissal and walked out of her prison.

It was the night before her performance and she was sat on her bed and reflected on everything which had happened in her life. Skylar was allowed to move into the quarters at the company so this was where her life was now, she sometimes spoke to her pater even though he had said not to, they were on talking grounds but he had still refused to come to her performance despite how much she pleaded and begged but if that was what he truly wanted she would live because she still had her movements so she was currently well. She thought about when she was in hospital, about how she had cursed whoever was up in the sky looking over her but now as she reflected she couldn’t be happier of how things turned out because she finally got her freedom although she was still a bit reversed because of her lacked pater. She fell into a deep slumber hoping that everything would turn out well for the next night.

Skylar was dressed as a swan, the animal represented dreams and love and balance, everything she had hoped for in her life. As she heard the cheers in the background she was ushered onto the stage by the directors. As the curtains rose and the lights shone bright, she kept poised but her eyes looked around the room, they searched for her pater, the thought of it shocked herself. As she noticed his lack of presence she felt her heart break a little but would not let this bring her down. Why would she? She thought to herself, this was everything she yearned for and more, she fought through all the pain and the control from her pater to be here, she deserved to be here as any other movement maker was. The audience was hushed, the ballad loud throughout the arena and she did what she did best. She stepped and spun but it was half way through her performance she heard light clapping over the ballad and her rush of movements. As she spun she looked into the audience to see who had been clapping.

A rush of shock assaulted her, a rush of freedom, sat in the middle of the room was her pater. Skylar was finally unlocked from her prison. She felt like she was on cloud nine, she stepped and spun. She finally breathed, a breath of finality and freedom, a breath which wasn’t to push through any pain or annoyance and as she felt her pater’s watered eyes on her she allowed herself to dance.

Epilogue

“Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you're perfectly free.”

-Jalaluddin Rumi

© 2017 H.A

My Review

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Featured Review

Saud Maroof

It is a very apparent style of writing, The story is unique but lacks a proper rhythm, another look would bring that rhythm alive. The emotions and description are real and beautiful. In my opinion (SPOILER ALERT) if you had already decided to make peace with the father (I am assuming pater=father) then why did you make your audience dislike him, And the narration seemed too bias to the main charachter leaving the opinions of antagonist as pure evil.

there were some typos and grammatical error, I advise you fix them asap because it was a great hindrance while reading as your style depends upon every word, i would have prefered reading father/gaurdion instead of pater, It seamed pointless to me (I understand using father is too common, but still) If you are trying to set this story in Rome or Greece Then I would understand and then it would make sense as well but then this detail is too subtle.

I am sorry for being so harsh, I understand every detail you expressed took effort so I give you an open opportunity to be as cruel as I was. I am also new and waiting for reviews