𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐭 studies ballet in Venice under the watchful eye of her mother, an eminent former ballerina.
𝐈𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐚𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐫 has changed since the death of her father, a legendary dancer and choreographer, she escapes a tr...
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act 1.
"young impressionable girls."
the before.
. . .
She counts the minutes pale and silently, her soft fingertips anxiously tapping lightly against her thigh.
Nobody listened to the words she said, so she discovered how to express her deep self in other ways, and for her, that was ballet.
The music begins, her delicate movements are exaggerated by her legs fluttering elegantly in her classic light pink leotard, then ending in an arabesque position.
Ariella twirls without effort in a serenity her mother desires. She moves like water transformed by music, flowing in graceful arcs, limbs in constant motion, painting a picture sound alone can never achieve.
The rhythm completely stops and she remains still. Her mother stands up and a look of despair on her face.
"You've been training for weeks yet you haven't improved on this routine at all. This is your life now, the constant battle of performing, the highs and the lows of the ballet. And there's nothing we can do about it now."
This was exactly what she would achieve over the next few weeks; full understanding of the steps and movements on which she is failing to achieve perfection. It could not be the way she has torments about; she would not allow that to happen. Not now, not ever, as long as she danced across these polished floors that she knew so well.
She wouldn't stop until her aching calloused feet throbbed to prove that her accomplishment was truly deserved in pain.
Ariella knew she had finished the routine, hours thereon when her stern mother gave her a slight nod of approval.
She glances down and smiles when the group of dancers comes in, their stony gazes drifting from their phones to the stage.
The girls whom she competes with - and compares herself to - were the same friends she laughed with before class. The rivalries between all of them intensified as they got older. The superficial disputes they had at age 10 over who wore the prettiest leotards evolved into bitter, unspoken judgments over who had the smallest waist, who had the highest arches, who caught the teacher's attention the most and who got accepted into the most rigorous summer intensives.
She allows her wandering gaze to take in the lazy spin of the fans, to the recumbent light of eventide that will soon be starlit black; the theatre soaks in the ambiance of a humming night.
Ariella escapes the stage, abandoning the ballet's ideal concept of perfection - she must appear effortlessly graceful, no matter what.
Sitting on the cold unforgiving ground in the fitting room, she undoes the silk ribbons of her pointe shoes that shone around her thin ankles.
She stumbles out of her leotard and tights and into an ebony jumpsuit, a white cardigan, bolero leg warmers and platform tan Uggs.
Staring at this altered image of herself, she places her hands on her rib cage - letting a heavy breath escape.
She applies mascara to her dark eyes, the sort of brown eyes that bring a sizzling hot cocoa to her memory.
Her phone murmurs a text from inside her ballet bag, she reaches in and grasps her fingers around it.
A text from Irina dashes across the screen asking if Ariella could join her to binge-watch iconic movies at her place.
She chewes her nails in thought, wondering if her mother would ever agree to this, as it was a school night and she'd be exhausted later on.
While her mother teaches, she finds it upon herself to find a bench outside the theatre. She tucks her cold legs up against her body, clasping her hands in front of her legs defending herself from the nippy October air.
She watches as cruel men gape at her, viscously taking in every part of her. The starving look invisibly almost seems to take away some of her innocence.
Ariella was used to this by now being seen as a piece of prized meat that all these men - young, old, and ancient - wanted a bite of.
This terrified her but of course, she'd never admit that. This kind of lifestyle that she didn't ask for nor did she want comes with this; you were watched on stage and off.
You perform on stage for the classical ballet and you perform off stage for the cameras and most importantly for you & your family's reputation.
She has always had a problem with this - why must she pretend like she is perfect? Why can't she have foul days like everyone else?
For how she desires to throw her ballet flats at the cruel girls and boys, the cameras, the dreadful men, everyone.
She observes as yawning students leave the theatre, some wave, some smile, and some scowl as they pass her and her shivering body.
Her mother joins her on the cold wooden bench, putting an arm around her shoulder, and pulling Ariella closer into her warm embrace.
She eventually breaks the painful stillness that lingers in the cold air like a knife between them. She huffs out a strangled laugh, "God, that was a long night, huh?"
Her mom nods in return, humming softly to a piece of music that a band plays from a nearby diner.
"Irina messaged me today... she was asking if it'd be okay with you if I went over to her place to watch a couple of movies."
Ariella bites at her freshly done white-painted fingernail, waiting patiently for her mom's response.
"I don't know, is her dad home?"
She nods, pulling out her phone to show her mom the texts communicated between her and Irina.
"Alright... you have to be back around 10 sharp. No later, you hear me? If you're not back by then, you won't be allowed back over again, Ariella."
Ariella smiles, saying the phrase thank you over and over again until the words get disordered together and come out in one grand messy word.
end of act 1.
. . .
authors note
hi! hi! hi!
this is written in a third-person point of view & i think i like it so much more!! it suits the characters and their story.
this is just an introduction to the complexity of the character that ariella is and will be. she will grow with every chapter and you will either learn to like or dislike her.
the next couple of chapters show the "beginning" of irina and ariella's friendship. then it'll skip to the present day of their lives.
