La Da Da
By: Fox
She appeared from the shadows. A pallid face, the rest of her ashen body was
covered by a long obsidian dress, it fell behind her, chasing her, or perhaps lured by her
elegance. Deep verdant glass pools pierced the soul, and were the only way to know her.
She began to dance, her arms flying wildly as she began to sing. “La da da da. La
da da.†Her steps echoed as her shoes impersonated the drums on the stone steps. Her
arms were twirling above her head, hands reaching for the night. The dancer’s hips
swayed in a rocking motion, back and forth, a steady rhythm. She was not dancing for
anyone, but they still saw her.
“La da da....†Her song quieted as she heard their whispers.
“Come, dance for us. Play your song for us. Sing... dance.†She tapped down
more stairs and entered a luscious garden, Amazed at the beauty- she stopped. ---
Nothing. Stillness. That crickets that had been her orchestra had ceased. The
wind that had been the conductor, did not play with her dark hair any longer. The wolves,
her trumpets, her fanfare, that had made her dance, did not wish to play.
Around her, a great jungle grew. A rainbow of auras grew from the emerald veins
that were twisted among the arrangement of leaves. The sweet scent of flower’s aroma
filled the air, a perfume fit for only the earth. The splendor of this garden would hypnotize
any beholder that viewed it. Goddesses would faint at the breathtaking equilibrium. No
colours were hideous with another. There were no vines taller than another. No flower
more beautiful than the next. They seemed to gleam faintly and sparkle under the careful
watch of the stars. Oh, how they were jealous of that garden, the stars. How their beauty
had competed, imagine a garden that stars were jealous of!
The dancer took a step; click., thump. A beat, a soft pulse. She could feel the
pulse within her incinerate. Her heart, beating ethereally. Smiling, her eyes aglow with
mischief, she took another step. The wind pushed past her. Another step, and the crickets
began to chirp. Softly, though, softly....
The dancer raised, toes pointed, a leg bent awkwardly to her side. Her arms raised
placidly above her head. She closed her eyes and lifted her head to the envious heavens.
The ballerina stood very still, counting the beats. Then her dress shivered slightly, the
clouds rolled passed and her eyes flashed like lightning, breaking the darkness as her head
snapped to attention.
Along the path, this dark ballerina swayed. Gracefully her arms lifted and
dropped. She moved through the air as a leaf caught by the wind. Her face was
emotionless, and her head paralyzed as she spun, but her gown flew; as dark as oblivion
itself, capturing the whisper’s eyes.
Toward the end of the Garden of Rainbows her dance slowed. Her movements
were as flowers drifting casually in a stream. She moved cautiously to the earth. Her legs
folding beneath her, arms close together, hands locked, and lastly her head resting, bowed
to her mother.
“Dance for us, sing for us. Come our dark ballerina, come.â€
Nodding slowly, the ballerina stood. She began to walk again, rounding the corner
she saw a shadowed castle. Quite opposite the garden. There was a small clearing, with
dead trees on either side of the entrance. Their limbs were over-taking the earth. Twisted
branches that had reached and competed every day for the sun she loathed. The dancer
came to these giants, sad for their loss, she cried.
They began to moan, a desolate wail that echoed in her ears. The branches raised
as graceful as her dance had been, clearing her way to the castle. They bloomed as if the
sun had already risen, responding to the moon as if its lunar glow nourished them. At last
she could open the door, her hand gently touched the handle, but a whisper that was so
cold, enough to make her spine shiver, erupted in her ear. All it whispered was, “Dance!â€.
A blast of wind caught her, a crack of thunder roared as opening applause. Her
orchestra was at full force, playing with all their energy. Her beat quickened and her face
flushed as she danced with more intensity then she ever had, Her feet pounding into the
ground, she arms swaying up and down as the tree mimicked her. Her voice filling the air
along with the nightingales.
“Dance, dance, dance.†The whispers chanted.
She loved it, the power, the beating, the rumbling, at the breaking point.
Trumpets! Violins! Drums! Voices! Faster and faster! Louder and louder! Pulsing!
Beat, beat, beat....
....the stop.
Incased in glass, a dark castle, a rainbow garden, and a dark ballerina. A key
twisted and wound up as it played its song again.
“La da da da. La da da.â€
La da da....