Swan Lake
Lonely and afraid, she watched from the murky shadows of the back alley beside the theatre. The girls from the Ballet would be coming out very soon through the backstage exit, and she might be able to mingle with them as they hurried back to their dormitories. At last, the spill of light across the alley showed that the doors were opening, and she tiptoed across the alley to join the tired chattering throng of young women. They didn’t look so elegant now, as they had been on stage. Out of their costumes of feather s and tulle, carrying their little ballet shoe bags, their hair still in tight chignons, they twittered and chirruped to each other in relaxation. None of them wanted to wait any longer to go home and rest; it would be another performance tomorrow.
A couple of the girls noticed the small bedraggled waif in their midst, but kindly smiled at her, assuming she had been caught up in their midst and would spin out of their group as they reached the wider pavement.
She looked up wistfully at the tall girl who had smiled down at her “Can I learn to dance like you?” she asked . “How did you know we dance? “ questioned the ballerina. “I sneaked in one day when the guard wasn’t looking” replied the little girl, “ and I saw all of you practicing. So then I tried to stand on tiptoes like you did, but it hurt so I stopped.”
The tall dancer bent down and whispered in the child’s ear “ Yes, I know. Sometimes it hurts us too, but we carry on because we love doing what we do.”
“So, can I learn like you?” came the request again. And once more the smiling dancer leaned over and replied that of course she could. “But you’ll have to go to school and learn lots of things, then your parents will have to enroll you into ballet classes.”
The little girl shook her head sadly. “I haven’t got a mummy and daddy,” she said” I live with my aunty, and she doesn’t have any money, so I can’t go anywhere.”
The dancer walked forward to her friends, who had slowed their passage through the nighttime crowds while she was talking to the child.
She explained the situation and got their agreement to what she was proposing to do. Then she dropped back to where the child was standing. “OK, little one, here’s what we’re going to do. You take me to where you and your aunty live and we’ll talk to her about you coming to watch us again, and perhaps then you can show our manager how you like to go on tiptoes. Would you like that?”
The child nodded and took hold of the dancer’s hand.
Day 9:
The cold was beginning to seep into her, her thick wool coat offering insufficient protection. She had watched as the sun had slipped below the horizon, felt its warmth leave her.
She knew she should go inside but she couldn’t, not yet. Sat under the heavy oak tree, with no one to bother her, she felt calmness settle over her. It was something she had not felt in a while. It was...nice.
It had helped, sitting here. Finally, she could think about this, straighten it out in her head. For too long, it had been plaguing her, taking over every second. Even when she slept, it was there, reopening that wound time and time again. Everyone told her the pain would dull, that she would be able to manage it.
They were wrong.
It never let go of her.
There was no escape.
She had given up asking for help. She knew what they were thinking, saw it in their pitying smiles. They thought it was pathetic.
She knew they laughed at her pain, mocking her.
She couldn’t take it.
There was one option left to her, one last chance to numb the ache within her. It called to her, like the mother she had never had. She wanted its comfort, its embrace.
But, she was scared.
It was so final.
And yet, she knew it was all that was left. She wouldn’t miss them, not any more. They didn’t understand. A distance had settled between them, a rift no one knew how to cross.
She ran the rope through her hands, thinking. She never wanted to leave this spot, lose the tranquility she had found so recently.
She made her decision.
She chose death.
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