Hey guys :D Well uhm.. You guys know I'm having a little fantasy writer's block? Well ah, I decided to write some other stories to try and get unblocked :D This is one of them I thought I'd share with you guys.
Prologue
“Mommy,” I whispered, tugging on my mother’s white hand. My hopeful eyes were looking into her dull brown ones, waiting for a response. I got none. Undeterred, I gently placed the storybook on her lap, before pointing one finger at the picture of a graceful ballerina, one leg stretched out gracefully behind her, and her arms pointed heavenwards. “I want to be like her when I grow up.” I loved the way the shadowy skirt swirled around the body of the ballerina, and the pretty designs on the leotard. I wanted to dance like her, to look like her.
“Mommy used to be like her,”
I looked up in surprise, following my mother’s lips as she spoke. Daddy was wrong, he had said that mommy couldn’t talk, or walk or move anymore. He was wrong. At that moment, I beamed, happy that she had responded. “Really? Was it fun?” I asked eagerly, leaning forward, wanting to hear more. My mother weakly nodded, lifting a hand covered with tubes and needles to stroke my hair.
“I loved dancing,” She hoarsely whispered, a distant haze clouding over her eyes as she thought back to her own distant past, and a dreamy smile flitted across her face. “You will love it too.” I tried to imagine in my eight year old mind how my mother would have looked in one of those pretty dresses. I couldn’t get an image though, all my life- The mother I knew was the one who was always sickly and weak, but loving.
“Then why did you stop dancing?” I asked, slightly confused. Why would she stop if she loved it so much?
“Because mommy was tired,” She replied, brushing her hand across my cheek, “Mommy’s tired now, darling. Why not you just run outside and get your father?” Mutely, I nodded, not knowing at that time why she suddenly sounded like she had aged a few years more.
“Okay,” I whispered, “Can I see you tomorrow?”
“Maybe, now go hun, be a good girl for mommy, okay? And remember; mommy loves you.”
“I love you too, mommy.”
Outside, sitting alone, I finally felt the wetness trailing down my cheeks, and I reached up a hand to brush away a tear.
*****
I know this is kinda short o.o But yeah :D I'll put up the first chapter if I get positive reactions to the prologue or if I finish it soon :D
So~
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Red Pointe Shoes
Teen Fiction"I dance with red shoes because red is for passion, for anger, and love." -Avery. Richardson's School for Sports and the Arts, a boarding school famous for turning out the most elegant and breathtaking ballerinas ready for contracts, and vicious, st...
