The Pretty Poison

PART 12 - Symbolic Dance: Virtues Forgotten

PART 12 - Symbolic Dance: Virtues Forgotten

The lights snap on. The clunking sound resonates through the seats and the rays capture the dust flitting around the air. The spotlights drown the frozen silhouetted figure. Her right hand gracefully curves above her purposefully tangled curls whilst her left fingers point to what isn’t there. The girl’s thin body is adorned in a simple black leotard with a transparent white wrap around her waist. On her frail wrists are lengthy cuffs and tied to her neck is a matching black scarf.

She stands like a statue on pointed toes, never swaying or faltering. Her face is painted with black tears and sunken eyes while her hair is set loose, cascading to her gaunt shoulders. The overall appearance of the young girl is fragile and ghostly yet somehow, even with her scrawny figure, one could easily mistake her for a work of art.

Enter her dance partner. The well-built man is clothed in an ivory poet shirt with black tights matching the girl’s color of choice. His footsteps are heard, not stomping but loud enough to be known, crossing the back of the stage. His shirt is drawn to his waist with a silver belt, causing a rippling effect on his over-sized sleeves with each stride towards the still beauty. When he reaches the space next to her, his wrist snakes its way around her waist and his free hand takes one of hers.

The daunting composition starts to play and together they start their intense battle of love.

The suddenness of the piano and hurried notes of the violin brings her left hand to cross behind her right. Robotic and precise, yet elegant. The music softly echoes through where the audience should be though the melody is far from soft. The girl’s face never moves. She gives the same intensity staring out, always facing the audience.

Two instruments sounding in perfect harmony, one from the eerie violin and one a grand piano. The uncanny sounds pace through, intimidating and strong. The dance partners face each other, each staring with their own emotion. Their feet circle each other and their hands grasp the other’s neck, his with lust and hers with soft passion.

The music plays a little slower and shifts the girl. Instead of facing him or even moving of her own accord, she becomes rigid once more, allowing his arms to move her like the doll she thinks she has become. He dips her, almost fully to the floor. The scarf on her neck barely scrapes the ground before she is brought up fiercely and whisked away for another chance of him caressing her exposed skin. He repeats this motion to the other side, this time, her hair falling over her pretty face.

Made to stand and spin, the girl turns with a sharpness that thrashes her light brown curls about. Their hands separate and for one fleeting moment, the youth breathes in life. Her eyes become lit with the feeling of freedom and her body relaxes in the spotlight. The joy is short lived however, for when the man strokes his fingers on her porcelain skin, she becomes unbending and follows his every lead.

Her movements are precise and agile, exactly as a tango should be. It is a dance of passion and ferocity and though she panics from the intensity of the action, she steadies her nerves with the knowledge of her lover’s satisfaction.

Her hand draws over her chest and towards the stage left where her fingers flick out to the theatre’s wings. It stays there, suspended in mid air while the man drops to one knee. He pulls himself up slowly, his cheek gliding across the warmth that is her body. It keeps the girl self conscious but it is hard to know her true feelings when she refuses to stir any muscle in her ghostly face.

Anger, longing, passion, fear. Wild hair whips, pulling her off balance in the way it should. Her steps are kept strong but with the force her lover demands, they begin to sway with uncertainty.

While she turns away, the man pulls her with a face contorted into anger and power. The girl knows there is no stopping his desires of her flesh, only endurance until it is over. Her silent tears mean nothing. Her stilled body means nothing. And still she says nothing, for in a way she does not want this to end. Madness in a dazzling form.

The composition swells. The dance becomes more maddening, grasping at the edges of sanity. Pale arms reach through the air. Faster and faster the music rings out. Faster and faster the two dance. The violin shrills out notes of ecstasy the pair portrays.

With each piece of slowed music, the girl becomes still and lets the man overpower her. His face caresses the curve of her neck while his arms find her wrists. This tango of two souls —one of lust, the other of virtues forgotten— brings the viewer both regret for the girl and a desire towards the man.

He picks her up suddenly, her back arching with the leap into his arms. She is held in the air, the strength of the man revealed by the veins seen taunt in his arms. Her fear is evident in the way she lets her eyelids flutter close and shut tight. Shifting his feet in small steps, the man turns while keeping his partner high above him.

When he sees it fit, he lowers the girl harshly, throwing her to the floor several feet away.

She lands on the stage clumsily, legs crumpling beneath her. Her arms keep her from the floor her head was so close to crashing upon. The music still plays. Her lover takes strides to the girl and kneels beside her. With the climax of the melody, he pulls the back of her neck with a rough grasp. Her back arches with the placement of his second hand on her inner thigh.

The last painful notes of the music increase in volume and severity. Notes repeat in the empty chairs while the girl is forced to her feet by his hold around her neck. It is not certain if she fears this man or fears the remembrance of her parents love.

Another wave of aching music. Another movement of passion. She is stretched to the floor where her arms slide above her sprawled out hair. He gladly kneels to her and lays a kiss upon her cheek. The softer side parades out at last.

Her lover pulls her from the position, holding onto her petite hand and slim waist. He rests his forehead to hers and smiles with a love no one thought to have been there.

Looking into the young girl’s hazel eyes, he caresses her pale cheek. The end of the song carries the haunting notes through the air and into the soul of the youth. Her partner exits in long strides behind the curtains.

Instead of joining her spiteful lover in the wings, the girl turns downstage. Her right hand gracefully curves above her purposefully tangled curls whilst her left fingers point to what isn’t there. Back on point, she stands like a statue on her toes, never swaying or faltering. Her face is painted with black tears and sunken eyes while her hair is set loose, cascading to her gaunt shoulders. Though the young girl is fragile and ghostly, one could easily mistake her for a work of art.