Short Stories

Her Last Pirouette

Soon after the chilling sound of a deep cello bounced off the walls of the high school gym, a swift shadow moved across the floor. It danced and felt like no other. This is how is danced. This is how it was able to feel and correspond with her actions. It pirouetted a last time, before steadily collapsing on the bleachers. Her breath was visible under the low, dimmed light, as the numbing feeling took over her fragile soul. Her last pirouette was a silky one. Smooth like the waves of the ocean. Powerful like the eagles of the skies. And empty like a lonely snail shell. Forgotten and left to rot solemnly. It was lovely and poised, but the echoing sound of her sobs broke the silence. They slowed as her tears froze to the gymnasium floor. Plastered there to remind her of her sorrow. Where she would lay dead, frozen. Where she would be found, smiling, because she no longer felt the same pain.