Chapter 1
Her face holds the soul
A simple Sunday morning flourished beautifully against the huge buildings, the Sun poured boasting its morning glory of pure light. Busy streets filled New York City; day and night. As the mass media follows several scandalized celebrities prying for privacy at day, party animals and insufficient pokers would go haywire all night.
As the city was fulfilling its own prideful needs, a woman with a hidden demeanor bears herself chaste along the pavement.
Nina was her name. A young virtuoso and ballerina taught with such pleasure and joy, her pitiful and sweet face would drive any selfish and assaulting mind mad.
Wearing her signature lady-pink coat, shy white scarf and boots, she walked effortlessly to the hectic Subway.
This young ballerina had such promise in fulfilling her life-long dreams.
Her bright and peaceful disposition makes her a target of many evils that lurk beyond the safe mirrors of the ballet studio. But not all is out for her chastity.
The clear echoes of swank and commands rang in Nina's ear as she strained herself to calm down. As she ventured into one of the make-up rooms getting ready, she closed her eyes and straightened her body for practicing. Making sure her leotard was fully glued to her skin, the light-pink tutu in place, her brunette bun sitting tremendously and clean on her scalp.
Yes, she was ready. Ready to dance her way to her childhood dreams, but exponentially not ready to face her dance instructor's mean words.
She sighed and shook her head. Maybe a bit of loud nagging could cure her distracted face. Ah well, let us see.
Nina Sayers, a polite and sweet girl of New York, pushed herself to the door and forced a smile.
"Graceful now, Graceful!" a man of French nativity shouted viciously to a ballerina. Her wide eyes filled with worry as she flung her arms in the air and kicked her legs. The poor blonde held a grim frown as her instructor was no longer impressed with her performance.
"Make it look as though you were a flightless beauty, stretch those arms higher and define your footwork", the director of the Swan Lake composition sneered to the blonde.
Nina looked on from behind a few shoulders. She watched carefully as the blonde was beginning to dance in full agony and pain. The young ballerina frowned pitifully to the blonde dancer.
"Please, monsieur! My feet are bleeding…" the girl wailed as she stopped dancing for him. The man held a pitied yet disappointed face.
He held the waning girl's arm and spoke of high and somewhat good advice, "You are too young for this professionalism. I suggest you leave; your performance needed a bit more…Life and fluidity, otherwise good job."
The girl nodded teary-eyed and took a dark blue bag and left without saying a word, other than sniffling and cursing herself.
The administrator of the joint rubbed his eyelids and sat on his chair, defeated.
Nina was eventually found alone as the other male and female ballerinas left her presence and returned to their own corners for practice. Some were gossiping off and chatting.
"Mr. Leroy?" Nina asked the man before her as she swayed waiting for him to look at her.
Thomas Leroy, an artistic director and addict of perfection, looked up from his sulking to find a pale beauty stand before him nervously.
He looked at her in confusion that was replaced with predatory silence.
"Yes?" he asked Nina quietly, "Are you lost? Because the road to Heaven is that way, my dear." As he pointed at the exit; giving her a chance to at least run from his studio while she still got the chance.
Nina shook her head earnestly and curtsied shyly, "I would like to be the Swan Queen." She said with her voice that sounded of angelic wind chimes.
Thomas stared at Nina with utmost surprise; he hid the confused face quickly and stood up with arms folded.