So...here's a little something that might catch you off guard. I don't realy know where it came from, but I figured, "Hey, might as well post it!" So here it is. See if you can figure out who the narrator is. --Sarah
P.S. I realize it might be rather melodramatic, but I think it's fitting for the character... (Tell me what you think!)
Dark Realities
For a dancer, accomplishment is its own reward. No trophy – no medal or prize – can equal the satisfaction of knowing that you have battled gravity, achieved a perfect balance of physics and grace.
A dancer learns to see promise in pain and distinction in uniformity. It is a discipline of contradictions, one in which nothing is attained without effort, but effort means nothing in the face of nature.
But in return, the dancer is given the key to absolute peace and clarity. The simplest line, from the tip of your finger to the end of your wrist, can fill you with a surge of wonder and joy. Contours carry words and the slightest movement tells a story – the dancer becomes the work of art.
I had been trained, conditioned to play the role of a ballerina. My focus was solid. I confronted all distractions without blinking an eye, convinced myself that my priorities were right, and that I was above the simple needs of the average soul. I had no regrets. No regrets, that is, until I stepped back from my little world, took a brief breath, and glanced at my own reflection. I had been dancing for years before I saw myself as I truly was.
It's strange, how art begins as a way to pour out your soul, vent your frustration, purge your own tangled heartstrings, but then distorts itself into some sort of addictive master. An obsession…and yet, I managed to break free, for just long enough to see the reality. I was isolated, I was disoriented, and I was empty. In a moment of panic, I made a choice. I severed all ties with that world I had known.
I defied my family and turned my back on them. Of course, that was an era of terror for everyone. Dark magic reigned over our world; security and safety were distant dreams for most. Every step you took away from your own front door could be one step closer to your end. So, I didn't feel all that lonely, as I too flung myself into the unprotected unknown.
I stopped dancing, because in my relentless loyalty to it, I saw the loyalty of the Dark Lord's followers. I no longer wished to acquiesce to pain and conformity. I wanted to believe that anyone could breach the boundaries of fate, that all it took was a will to try. The polished floor and confining expanses of a dance room could never allow that, and so I left it behind me.
How was I to know that you cannot outrun such things? That, despite my greatest efforts, I could not deny the needs of my soul? After all, effort means nothing in the face of nature. And so, I seem to watch my own life with a detached sense of wonder. I hold my head high, honored by my acceptance into such a demanding sect. I relish the pain, knowing deep within me that it was mature into strength and power. I teeter happily on the brink of madness and absolute understanding. And it is misery…misery for me to see that I have become what I feared.
Yet, at the same time, it is not without its benefits, for in each spell I cast, I create a piece of art. A sparkling jet of pure light, the perfect arc of a falling body, the discordant tones of screaming victims – all tell their story, all reveal the tortured anguish of my heart.