Discordia
Grace has a secret. A secret that can destroy herself fully, and her upcoming career as a dancer. When she is noticed by a talent scout and escapes the wrath of her stepmother, she meets a cute guitarist and dancer named Damien. He immediately sees something different about her, besides her talent and beauty. He knows she is hiding something, and Grace knows too. Will this dancer's secret be a discover, or a lost mystery?
The soft melody slowly filled my tender ears.
My eyes automatically closed. My hand shot out beside me, fingers curled, nails biting into my skin. The sad song slowly lifted the guilt and pain seeping through my thoughts and mind as my bare feet slid along the sand. The waves swallowed the sand as I bent my head and moved my hips. I moved delicately, on my tip-toes. As if I was a ballerina, I spun and spun on my one right toe. My neck craning, my lips sealed my stomach twirling as my moves faded into the beat.
As the melody ended, I opened my eyes. The huge audiences eyes burned into my skin, making me feel uncomfortable and stand awkwardly. I smoothed the tight bun on my head. My stomach flipped as the talent scout slowly stood up. My eyes narrowed as he slowly made his way toward the exit, which was right beside the stage. To my surprise , he actually climbed on stage and snatched the microphone from the man’s hand.
“That was...beautiful.” He spoke through the microphone, toward me. The audience erupted into shouts and applause. I smiled softly, looking for my Father with my eyes. He wasn’t there in the audience watching me.
The scout gave me his number to contact him for a scholarship. My smile showed bright. He clapped as he walked away and everyone immediately smothered me in hugs and more applause.
That night, I lay on my velvet bed with tears prickling my cheeks. I could hear my father stumble into the house, and into his room. I could hear him gurgling, and the screaming. My eyes closed in regret. I clutched my mother’s pendant in my hand as I saw the lights flicker off in the hallway. My breathing slowed.
This is how every night is. Of regret, guilt, and my Father coming home late, doing who knows what. I was shivering, not from the cool wind seeping through my door. The shiver of fear coursing through my veins as she opened my bedroom door. As my screams bounced off the walls and as her venomous words cut through my skin. As I lay, a bleeding heap on the floor, I knew I would call to leave this place as soon as possible.
As I heard the knife slither to the carpet, and her footsteps thud to the door I closed my eyes and fell into a frightful sleep.
My eyes automatically closed. My hand shot out beside me, fingers curled, nails biting into my skin. The sad song slowly lifted the guilt and pain seeping through my thoughts and mind as my bare feet slid along the sand. The waves swallowed the sand as I bent my head and moved my hips. I moved delicately, on my tip-toes. As if I was a ballerina, I spun and spun on my one right toe. My neck craning, my lips sealed my stomach twirling as my moves faded into the beat.
As the melody ended, I opened my eyes. The huge audiences eyes burned into my skin, making me feel uncomfortable and stand awkwardly. I smoothed the tight bun on my head. My stomach flipped as the talent scout slowly stood up. My eyes narrowed as he slowly made his way toward the exit, which was right beside the stage. To my surprise , he actually climbed on stage and snatched the microphone from the man’s hand.
“That was...beautiful.” He spoke through the microphone, toward me. The audience erupted into shouts and applause. I smiled softly, looking for my Father with my eyes. He wasn’t there in the audience watching me.
The scout gave me his number to contact him for a scholarship. My smile showed bright. He clapped as he walked away and everyone immediately smothered me in hugs and more applause.
That night, I lay on my velvet bed with tears prickling my cheeks. I could hear my father stumble into the house, and into his room. I could hear him gurgling, and the screaming. My eyes closed in regret. I clutched my mother’s pendant in my hand as I saw the lights flicker off in the hallway. My breathing slowed.
This is how every night is. Of regret, guilt, and my Father coming home late, doing who knows what. I was shivering, not from the cool wind seeping through my door. The shiver of fear coursing through my veins as she opened my bedroom door. As my screams bounced off the walls and as her venomous words cut through my skin. As I lay, a bleeding heap on the floor, I knew I would call to leave this place as soon as possible.
As I heard the knife slither to the carpet, and her footsteps thud to the door I closed my eyes and fell into a frightful sleep.
3 Comments
Next :) I'm a dancer & I just imagined myself :33 I LOVED IT NEXT
thanks! maybe you can give me some tips :)
I'm not that creative but what you have so far is amazing! Do you need help how a dancer feels and stuff? For me, with ballet it's a addictive pain that you get from it. It kills your feet but it makes you feel beutiful.. Hip hop is where you can let of your anger.. Jazz is the fun one where you can let loose and smile :) xx