1-2-3
1-2-3
Step-oh-ver
Dead-bod-ies
1-2-3
1-2-3
1-2-3
And
1-2-3!
I twirl around with a flourish to greet the glassy-eyed bodies dripping with praise!
Encore, encore! They say.
What kind of leading performer would I be to deny them what they so desire?
I take up my starting position again, again, again, and again.
***
My toes are crooked, they bleed. They break, too.
More for the music, then!
My arms get tired. The tendons break under the weight of the play's tension.
All to help my movements be more graceful and less rigid!
Tears slither down my cheeks.
They can't make me look like a raccoon, I have waterproof makeup!
***
This is all so perfect; I'm perfect!
That's all I've ever wanted, wasn't it?
They adore each performance—they adore me.
During intermission, I reminisce.
While tying my slippers, I let the ribbons crawl up my calf like ivy, hopelessly interwoven together.
***
Ah, I remember when they cast me wrongly.
They thought I would be best as the Black Swan.
The evil brat with an enabling father.
The co-lead.
The defeated villain.
But I knew I was destined to be greater, better.
I had practiced for so long—why shouldn't I be the white swan?
I wanted to be the victor of true love.
For once.
"This seems to happen so often. I try so hard—I am so cheerful, I said nothing. I didn't say that I was stressed as all hell this year. I didn't say I was blind for half of it. I didn't say that I am depressed I didn't say anything negative I didn't say anything. I always get pushed aside."
So I got rid of the old White Swan—I was always the superior dancer anyways.
And yet she dared to be critical when I was begging for the part she stole from me.
All Stop! Don't break my ankles, stop, wait!
Screeching with such fake emotion.
She forced tears, but even I was surprised by the fervor that she made her voice crack and go out with.
Either way, I'm the one that made this play.
I re-sewed the costume to fit me, and I even set out the props all by myself.
What lazy stage technicians—too busy watching the show to help out.
"At one point, I will stop giving effort because whatever I do I am never enough. I will never be enough—and I don't know how to feel about it."
I even secured an audience.
They're scattered among the stage and the seats.
The other dancers, the technicians, the conductor, the teacher, and the musicians.
They all wanted to see my performance!
They just couldn't contain their excitement—it's splattered all over me.
Which is a pity—I'm supposed to be the White Swan, not the Maroon Swan.
I've gotten over with it though, because this show is perfect otherwise.
I even sold my house to buy the stage forever—an investment that I shall never regret.
After all, this is my home now.
Oops, intermission is over, time to dance!
***
I gracefully pranced out into the middle of the stage.
"I know that there is an end goal, but I am so tired of waiting. I hate how sometimes I think that my friends don't like me, how they're only keeping me around out of pity. They don't deserve that."
The creaky boards echo throughout the theater. The lights are all broken and dim, but I am the one that's supposed to shine.
Not them.
Shadows from the dusty windows outside accompany me in my routine.
1-2-3
1-2-3
1-2-3
1-2-3
I dip my head in a bow, my smile as big as I could make it.
I am exhausted, but the cheers are worth it.
When I rise, I meet with blue and red stars.
They blind me and ask if I want to go with them.
"They said that friends were people that you could confide in absolutely—I don't think I ever had that. I'm always afraid that I would alienate them because that always seems to happen a little every time I share something wrong. They do a nervous laugh and look away and say nothing about it ever again. Why? I am always there for anyone, and they trust me with their secrets, why do they shy away from mine?"
My performance was beautiful enough for the Gods.
"Am I that unlikeable?"
I step off the stage to follow them,
I must not keep my audience waiting.
Find part two in The Definition of Ephialtes (A Collection of Short Trepidations) !
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The Definition of Dysania (A Collection of Short Trepidations)
الرعبWhat is your greatest fear? You might be able to find it here. What is the most peculiar situation you can think of? What would you do if you were thrown into it, from below or above? The best way to learn is by experience dysania will be found with...
