Do Not Go Gentle

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"I can do this!" I mutter to myself, and slowly gather the courage to walk onto the stage. I've been dancing ever since I can remember. Mom put me in jazz, hip hop, modern, and of course ballet. I even go to a special school for talented children. I had to dance my heart out to get into Miss Cravell's School. And now here I am, dancing the solo piece at the end of year performance.

The first soft notes of the piece I chose trills on the violin of the live orchestra, and I raise onto the toes of my pointe shoes. Surer than I've ever been, I swirl onto stage, my feet matching the compelling first few beats.

I almost gasp at all of the bright lights shining in my face, but I'm a professional! I know better than to be distracted at a time like this. Holding my arabesque pose during the suspenseful pause, I wait for my cue.

Right on time, the strings come in quietly, bringing a mellow tone. Slowly, I lower my left leg back to the floor and slide into a sashay, jumping into a scissor kick that fluffs my soft skirt into the air. This is when the trombone, and drums kick in, bringing up the beat.

Now for the real fun.

A smile spreads across my face as I twirl, spin and leap around the stage. Moving through choreographs I made myself just for this performance. Knowing that Mom, and Miss Cravell are watching pushes me harder, faster, and of course more gracefully through my routine.

Before I know it, I've stopped, posed in a curtsy, and the crowd is going crazy. The lights shine so bright that I can't see anything beyond my black stage, but tears are brought to my eyes at the sound. Heart pounding heavily, I can barely breathe as I curtsy once more.

Turning to leave, I pause just a moment. Don't run, float gracefully off of the stage.

Once back in the curtains, hands are patting me on the back with whispered congratulations. I nod, and accept everything as I try to catch my breath. The smile on my face is so broad that I feel my cheeks cramping, but I can't stop.

I did it!

One of the stage hands hurries over to me, and escorts me back to my dressing room. The woman has a very light hold on my arm, but I can tell that she means business as she hurries down the hall past all the other dancers in tutus, glitter, and ribbons. All of their costumes are so beautiful.

But mine, mine was made by Mom and I. We worked really hard to capture the essence of my dance. I always felt like this particular routine made me look like a bird free in the sky. Something about the music made me feel like I could stay in the clouds, floating on the winds, never having to come down.

We took long, gauzy fabric, and cut it into feather shapes on the skirt, creating a flowy, rather than a stiff tutu. That way everything can flutter in the wind when I dance. Mom's favorite touch was the long pieces she tied to my shoulders and wrists that gave me wings.

"We must hurry! You have a lot of people that wish to speak with you after the finale." I forgot the stage hand's name, so I just nod my head and hurry into my room.

Looking into the mirror, I can see sweat pooled on my face, but amazingly it hasn't smeared any of the carefully painted on green feathers that line the edges of my face. Every bit of glitter, paint and makeup is still in place. Even my red, always tangled hair is still pristinely pulled back into intricate braids that hold feathers, and fake jewels.

"Do I have to change? I really like my costume, and I think it'll help everyone to remember me." I ask the stage hand as I swirl a bit, causing the feathers all over my costume to flutter.

"Trust me darling, no one's going to forget that performance." The woman's tone is almost awed, and I can't help but feel flattered.

Was it really that good? I can't wait to hear what Mom has to say!

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