My Disloyal Followers

Sunday, September 30, 2012

I was bored, what do you do?

  My heart thudded furiously as I skirted around the corner of the street, my worn out shoes sliding on the wet cement. Wrapping my arm around the lamp pole that towered above me, I regained my balance and continues pounding down the road to the edge of the woods that awaited me. I could hear the clapping of footsteps behind me, and from the unmistakable sound of steel I realized they had taken their swords out. My best chance was to escape into the undergrowth and hope they don't bother to follow me there.
  Just when I thought I had reached the safety of perilous trees, they came out from in front of me and shoved their blades toward me, forcing me to a skidding halt if I didn't fancy being skewered. Without a moment to breathe, I was surrounded in a circle of guards, the streetlamp's yellow light casting an eerie glow on their faces. "Lay down you weapons," the tallest one commanded, taking a step forward.
  Come on, think fast, think fast, I muttered in my head, my gaze darting in between the guards and the forest that stood only a few meters away. It was not like I had any weapons to give up, save an old rusty pocket knife I had scavenged a few days earlier. Quickly, I slid the knife into my sleeve then lifted my arms, ignoring the sharp pain on my skin as the blade slid down my sleeve until it rested against my shoulder. Now if matters went badly, I at least had some sort of defense.
  "I have no weapons," I gasped, recovering my breath after holding it for so long. "I don't understand what you want me for. I'm merely a beggar, whose home is in the depths of them trees over there." I nodded my head to the thicket that awaited me at the edge of the woods with another desperate glance."
  The guard who had spoken smiled, although it was one of contempt. "I might have believed you if your right arm hadn't just begun to bleed profusely." He made a disapproving clicking sound as he turned sideways from me. Then his back greeted me. "Seize him." Before anyone could move, I launched myself on him, one arm grabbing his shoulder and the other pressing the knife against his throat. Then, knowing he would have a way to escape my grasp, I slit his throat and jumped off.
  "You may want to tend to your leader," I announced, bowing, then taking off into the trees. Darkness closed in on me, and I could no longer see anything, until I stumbled against a familiar feeling tree. Leaning against it, I caught my breath, then staggered around to the other side where an opening lay. Without a moment of hesitation, I plunged underground.

Saturday, September 8, 2012

The Nutcracker

So last night I received my parts for The Nutcracker that I will be performing this year. It had been an endless suspense, the mystery making me pull out my hair for two weeks. We auditioned last Sunday, and I'm been going mad every single day until last night when I finally got the paper. Yesterday we were counting down the hours and minutes too.

Finally, I got the paper. I got reindeer, snowflake, flower, and Russian. No lead roles, but all of these are the hardest and best group dances in the whole thing. So you can imagine I'm really happy right now.

Unfortunately, three of my friends were really unhappy. I won't say why, and I won't name names, because what if they manage to come to this blog anytime soon? No, that wouldn't go well. But they had good reasons for being upset and I feel really, really bad for them. :(

Otherwise, this year is going to be so much fun! :D

Friday, September 7, 2012

Celadon QW

  The cold bit at his skin more ferociously than ever, the wind tearing at his clothes, and the occasional sparkles of snow numbing his body. Huddling himself into an even tighter ball, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and tried to close himself off from the rest of the world. The howling that surrounded him seemed slightly fainter from the small shelter he had found for himself. Thin trees stood in a scattered circle around him, in the grass that laid beside the quiet road, no wagons passing on it.
  The crunching of leaves growing louder became apparent when the wind halted momentarily. Gasping, he held his breath and curled even tighter, hoping his dark clothes would prove as a camouflage in the dead of the night. He tried to block his ears in his shirt, shutting his eyes even more tightly, as if that would help shield him from whatever was approaching.
  Then he felt a warm hand on his bare arms, the touch of the warmth comforting against his unfeeling skin, as if it were rejuvenating a solid corpse back into life. He flinched away from it at first, then swiveled his head slowly and curiously to see who it was. The moment he grasped his unwelcome person's face, he recoiled immediately, recovering from the shock at who had found him. But...he's dead, he thought to himself repeatedly again and again in his mind, unwilling to believe that it might not be true. He tucked himself even more tightly and hoped his visitor would leave.
  He could feel the warm, relaxing body heat travel across his arm as the hand inspected him. When he didn't react to anything, just remained obstinately still, a soft voice rang out into the clearing, so familiar yet different, a disturbing sound that merely poisoned his thoughts. Even still, he turned around at the mention of his name. "Char."
  A boy's face hung above him, looking concerned in a way Char would never have thought possible to be on that one person's face. He  looked almost identical to Char himself, with crystal clear olive green eyes that were startling even in the dark against his tan skin. Thick, curled eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheekbones while his short dark brown hair was ruffled from being away from the life that gave you everything. He looked very much like the person Char had known four years ago, when he had been five, except that this boy looked much scrawnier, and much less fed.
  Char lay on the muddy ground, soiling his proper clothes with dirt, breathing hard. He didn't know how to react to seeing the boy, who he had taken for dead for so long suddenly appearing before him like magic. He drew his hand away from his touch, even though it felt warm, it held an icy cold sensation to it, knowing well who it was that was making the contact.
  "You're-you're dead!" Char stammered finally, allowing the words to fly out of his mouth before he could stop himself. A grim smile formed on the boy's face, although the concern appeared no less strongly. His hand reached out once again, but this time to touch Char's face. Char forced himself not to jerk away from the familiar touch that felt foreign.
  The smile disappeared. "Well, obviously not," he replied. The boy's hand fell to his side as he knelt next to Char obviously waiting for some response, some reacting of approval to show that Char wasn't too frightened of him. Never, Char thought. He could hardly think, forget about reasoning everything out to welcome him back into his life.
  "Is-is it really...?" he began, then trailed off afraid to say anymore, or to possibly jinx the shocking event that was taking place. Char wanted to sit up, but he felt too weak to move, two days of starvation other than crumbs was too much for him to bear. He put one arm in front of him cautiously, then slowly tried to haul himself up, before collapsing back onto the ground in defeat.
  The boy's sturdy arms wrapped around Char's torso, then lifted him until he was in a sitting position. He made room so that Char could lean on him, which Char accepted gratefully. "Does it feel like me?" After no response from Char, he continued. "It is. It is me, Oak. I still am your older brother."

So that's all I have from now, I wrote it today out of two reasons that bothered me. One, I needed to write something I hadn't in a while so badly, it started haunting me in the middle of the night while I woke up in between my stupid spider dreams. Two, I really am going to make an effort to bring this blog back where it used to be and make it even better.

I am going to continue this, but because I really want to post it, I'll leave it here for now and maybe write more tomorrow, so look out for my post then. It's an idea I've been think about since approximately three in the morning. I haven't exactly been sleeping well lately, I just randomly wake up in the middle of the night and try not to freak out. I can get really paranoid sometimes, especially when it's all dark and quiet. But this is all besides the point, what I am trying to say is that I will write more of this tomorrow. Enjoy!

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Sorry for the...millionth time?

Well, as a writer you would expect me to perhaps be able to think of more than one way to apologize. Well this writer is a pretty bad writer, so that won't be coming. I suppose I'll have to just settle for the traditional, "I'm sorry." I'm so sorry for all the apologies vowing that I will be back, and that I'll start writing more, because that obviously did not happen. I'm sorry for all my broken promises.

But mostly, I am extremely disappointed in my supposedly loyal followers. Because I dropped from fifty of them, to forty-nine. Now, who would do such a thing? Thankfully, right after this disaster occurred, I got a new follower. But that isn't stopping me from writing all of your names down so I can keep track of who stops following me in the future. If you stop following my blog from now on, I will HUNT YOU DOWN. Because I will know your name. And your account. Mwahaha. Well just kidding, but I might send you an email about how much you hurt my feelings.

Anyway, moving on to other topics. It feels only just that as this is a writing blog and I have done no writing on here in so long, that I should perhaps write a little? I was going to write some of my normal, fantasy, violence, etc stories. Maybe some romance. But I got a bit sidetracked this morning, and now my head is absorbed into a completely different world. A world that I yearn to be in, and am trying my hardest to be a part of.

  The lights are dimmed, the audience is hushed. The only sound that can be heard is the pattering of footsteps beyond the double doors that block even the hit of light to peep into darkness. Everyone is waiting, anticipating that moment when they become completely vulnerable, and all eyes focus on them. With a boom, a light switches on, casting a gleaming circle into the center of blackness. A few murmurs escape the lips of those sighing in relief from boredom, although they are quickly hushed by those who know better.
  These people have no patience, I think as I stand by the side, rolling my eyes although no one could see, it is that dark where I wait. Then again, I am no better. This is taking too long. If they don't start soon enough, I will be late for my entrance. Finally, as no change is made from either the stage or the audience, I open one of the doors slightly, just barely enough for me to slide my skinny body through it. For a moment, I just stand there and blink my eyes. The light brightening the hallway contrasts too greatly with the dark atmosphere of the side of the stage where no one is supposed to be seen. Once my eyes get used to the change, I run down the hall and turn, bursting into a tiny room busy with girls fixing hair, makeup, and costumes. Slipping in between the bustling, I make my way to my own supplies. I had already done my hair and makeup, but I still need to slide my first costume on and wear my shoes.
  "Azure." I swivel my head away from the mirror to see my closest friend, and my biggest rival standing besides me. "You'll do great," Cassie smiled. She was already completely read to go on stage, her flowing pink party dress over her leotard and tights, her fake, curly hair cascading on to her shoulders, a pink bow tied neatly upon her head. Her feet, covered with socks held a squarish shape, meaning that her pointe shoes were also on. We always wear socks over our shoes, so that we don't ruin them, stepping on normal floor and other hazards to perfectly beautiful shoes.
  This year, Cassie got the role of Clara, the main character in The Nutcracker. Her role receives the most adoration, the most attention. I got the Snow Queen, the Arabian Princess, and the Sugar Plum Fairy. All of the parts can compete, they are all equally difficult in ability. Both of our talent for dance is equal, making us rivals. But our friendship has been twisted together since as long as I can remember, which serves as a counterbalance for our position.
  I smirk back at her. "Of course I will. And so will you. We always do well, right?" This performance will be our fifth out of many so far this year. We usually do a total of ten shows, so as of this moment, we are about halfway through.
  Quickly, I pull my white tutu up over my legs and bend down to slide the pointe shoes on. Then I cross them in the familiar pattern and tie them tightly so they won't come out on stage. I also use hair spray to secure it. Once I double check that I look stage ready, I nod to Cassie and follow her out, back through the double doors into darkness. The music is playing, and the prologue is taking place. Grinning at Cassie, and flashing her a thumbs up, I make my way to the wing that I would enter from and settle myself as it would be a long wait until my turn comes.
  It's always a joy watching a performance, no matter how many times you have seen it before, or what angle you are watching from. The way each dancer moves, it creates a story of their own, one that is fascinating to dissect. They show the emotions on their faces so well, but I know from my own experience that it has nothing to do with what they are actually thinking. In our heads, it is all about the technique, and make sure it is pleasant to watch. None of the feelings we portray are actually our thoughts.

Finally, the battle scene is over. The mice scurry offstage, and all who are left are Clara and the Nutcracker. After doing a short pas de deux, they run offstage and past the wings. I stand up, knowing the snow scene is about to start. Of course I don't make the first appearance, the snowflakes have to dance first. I creep slowly into the wing where I wait until it is my turn. The heavy cloth legs next to me are black, except for the bright light shining on them, in the shapes of snowflakes.
  Temps leve, glissade, grande jete. My cue to go onstage. They have to perform that movement three more times before they clear off and I run on into the blinding light. I can see my partner waiting from the wing across the stage. He is jumping from foot to foot, warming up his feet.
  I hear heavy breathing next to me. Cassie is standing there, waiting for her next entrance. She exits the other side of the stage, but she reenters from where I stand. Meaning the moment she runs off, she has to sprint all the way across from the back. I can see the sweat glistening off her skin, threatening to roll down in drops of liquid. "Good job," I whisper, before the music abruptly changes and I race on the stage and step into an arabesque, then tour jete. I hold the position until my partner runs out himself and pretends to support me. While I wait, I run a mental list through my head. Straight leg, turned out, body up, head up, arms in front, smile. Smile.  Make sure you're smiling. It is basically the last reminder to myself before I cannot focus on smiling and I have to remember the combination. During every resting moment, where I am not in the middle of a leap or turn, I run that list repeatedly.
  After a few more movements, I step up in front, and hold my partners hand above my head, my other resting his his palm next to mine. I develope my leg in front of me, then whip it quickly to the side and bring it into passe, tearing my arms away from his and putting them in first position in front of me. In that position, I do ten pirouettes unstopping, his hands on my waist to keep me in balance. With that, I step away and run off stage for the final time as the snow queen. Panting, I trudge back to the dressing room, where I am congratulated by my friends.
  Even though I am exhausted, it was worth it. It always is. The pressure, the attention, the fact that if you mess up, hundreds of people know is satisfying. That is the pleasure of ballet, somehow difficulty is more appealing than ease.

Okay. So that sucked. I know. And I know no one cares about me fantasizing about my dance life and how I want to be the star of a professional company and everything but I had to! You see, we had our auditions last Sunday. For two weeks I've been starving from knowledge about what parts I might receive this year, my first time en pointe. They are going to announce the results on Friday, so as of the moment, forty-six hours and five minutes from now. So I've been in a Nutcracker mode right now. Bear with me a while. :)