A Ballarina's Strength

With each movement as beautiful as the last the petite dancer glided through the intricate preformance with the similar grace of a swan coming to rest on a lakes rippling surface, the audience's supercilious gaze long forgotten from her misted mind. It was as if the people seated inside of the crowded theatre had drifted into a daze, hypnotised by the elegence of the young ballerina and with every twirl, leap and pirrouette they fell even further under her spell.

However, the illusion was quickly broken when she collapsed onto the stage floor with a pained cry. The music played on but it was soon smothered by the rising murmurs of confusion caused by the crowd. Every eye in the room was locked onto the struggling girl as she attempted to rise and continue on with the dance but much to her obvious dismay she could not. The ballarina knew of the risk she faced even before she dressed herself in the required costume and stepped out on stage.

Her ankle had been injured before she arrived at the theater but seeing the looks of excitement and hope written on the faces of the other preformers her selfless conscience refused to let her back out, unable to accept the looks of dissapointment she knew she would recieve.

As fallen the dancer studied the faces of the people standing either side of the stage she saw no hint of the emotions she predicted to see, in the place of rejection the ballarina saw looks of surprise and remorse and somehow this gave her the courage to stand once again despite the searing screams of agony that continued to rocket through her ankle.

Sending one final, pleading look to the man in charge of the music she stood in the beginng pose; but this time there were no nervous butterflies threatning to spill from her abdomen instead, a sense of determination filled her being.

The first ascending notes of the song began to play and the young ballarina followed with them, repeating the same elegant movements as before but this time she knew she was not going to fall.

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