School Writing Assignments

March 5, 2022

She spun furiously on the stage. The people became a part of the beautiful whirlwind that was her world. Her feet worked like needle work, carefully placed as if the fate of the world depended on them. She fell into a pose on the wood that seemed to be screaming with passion. Her breath was hot as it traveled throughout her body, it was all she could hear, although the shouts of the crowd roared. The floor was a relief, while her skin and body was perfectly elegant, as if carved from stone, her body felt heavy and her head buzzed. From someone outside she could be perceived as a goddess of perfection.

The lights left her alone in the dark. The crowd's ovations reached her ears for what seemed like the first time ever. She waded through the dark shadows which covered her vision. A sign was her exit from the stage, it shined red, beckoning her towards her way out.

Behind the door was a dimly lit hallway that smelled of glue, its tiles grayed with time. The fourth door on the right hand side was where she turned to enter a room. The room was gloomy and depressing, containing a microwave, fridge, and a table with three chairs.

It seemed as if all of the dancer's grace had depleted like a balloon as she took out an instant dinner to microwave it.

The dancer took the delicate white shoes that once carried her to distant worlds, and she tossed them neglectfully on the floor. Her hair, which was perfect, not a single hair in the wrong place, was taken out as its sole purpose was finished. Next went her makeup which she smeared as she rubbed the hours of work that veiled her broken face with a mask of magnificence. The microwave made a familiar sound as it rang with its wonderful chime. Instead of tiptoeing carefully like she knew very well how to do, she walked heavily with no care for her reputation. She stared with emptiness, at the food which had been sitting before her on the table. Dancing was all she was and if she was not dancing, she was no one.

When she looked around the room had changed, there was no longer a gloomy feeling that lurked, there was a dressing room with lavish decor and costumes. Wigs covered the wall clashing brilliantly against the deep red wallpaper. The room smelled like cigarettes and perfume, with smoke making the mirror foggy with its stains. There was another smell of rich steak and potatoes.

Turning around the dancer saw the plate of food and was transported farther back into the whirlwind of time. Around her was a classroom with rows of young dancers. They did not look back at the dancer as they were masters at staying focused on their craft. Their feet seemed to bounce off the wooden floor planks as if there was no gravity in the world.

They danced with a spirit the dancer had not felt in a long time, a spirit that could lift one into a world of poise and colors.

The dancer was captivated by the small children being so nimble with how they could glide across the floor, she was reprieved from the depression of her everyday world for just a moment.

She looked over to a metal lunch pail in the corner of the room and was sent further back. The room was empty but this time it was different, long white sheer curtains cascaded down the french windows like a waterfall. The sun shone brightly, as if hugging the floorboard with its brightness and promise of better days.

As if she was a puppet, she seemed to have been lifted from her feet and she started to dance. She danced with so much spirit that it came through her eyes as tears, the tears which ripped through the makeup on her face. The colors moved around her quickly making the familiar whirlwind, there were specks of golden hope which danced along with her. Each time she hit the ground again, a color would erupt from the ground and blow through her hair.

As she danced she began to ascend higher and higher until she forever danced among the ballet pink sunrises, the sun rise was her hope.