Disclaimer: I don't Danny Phantom, or anything that may, in some distant way, be related. Everything is copyright the fabulous Butch Hartman, and many thanks for lending us his genius.
Summary: Danny reflection piece. Short and sweet.
No fluff this time. Just a severe introspective piece in which Danny was weird. Enjoy!
Started: 3A - 06.26.06
Finished: 6.15P - 06.26.06
"Dancing"
Sometimes the silence in heavy blackness and crystal stars is too loud. Not often. But sometimes.
And sometimes his bed is too soft; sometimes the chilly air swings like a suffocating pendulum from his throat. Dreams are infinite and keep him from waking.
These nights are foggy and he drifts, a fog. His reverie is complete in the mist between here and there, and he always finds himself imagining, fabricating, putting together a patchwork mosaic of-
Her window. It always ends the same: the floating and the laziness and the late-night insomnia lead him to her window. And a princess is dancing.
Simple swish: silk and taffeta brushing her ankles. Pretty pink toes peeking from under soft swirls of pastel. Light playing hide-and-seek in folds, in eyes. Light playing and light resting, easy, smooth, sensual. She dances, and she is beautiful and safe.
Then she stops. She sighs, suspended between selves; and he knows he should look away but doesn't. He tells himself he is mesmerized by the colors and light, but more than anything he notices her slight movements: how the dress reluctantly slides to the ground; how she glides on naked emptiness to her bed and lets her nightshirt fall over her pale white beauty.
How her violet eyes seem to catch his gaze for a split second as she steps through her princess pool of serene light and flips a switch for darkness.
Sometimes he takes all this in and sits on her windowsill; and as the hard rain taps his shoulders, as his heart beats an erratic rhythm in his chest, as the heavy blackness crackles static in his ears, he closes his eyes and remembers her dancing…
He rehearses the steps over and over; and each time he is amazed by the beauty. Each time he is amazed by the sadness. Each time he is amazed at how much closer the choreography brought him to home.