Toe Shoes

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a little something scary to spice things up :)
Once again, all of my stories are copywrited so no stealing! Thanks and enjoy!

Submitted: September 04, 2012

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Submitted: September 04, 2012

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Guys!!! please comment :) Thanks

Toe Shoes

By Ana Ferrell

Prima ballerina, a title I’ve always wanted for my own. From a very young age I’ve been working hard to do so. Many girls try their best to follow the positions and movements of a ballerina; some even go so far as paying hundreds for classes a yea just so they can look pretty in a tutu. A true prima ballerina, however, endures much more than that of a typical school girl. Bloody toes and pulled muscles; hours and hours of strenuous practice; replacing meals with work outs and auditions. Not to mention the heart break of being rejected for a major role in one of the finest dance academy’s ever known. All this work and suffering for a simple title and a simple crown. It is most certainly hell, but I will continue to dance on through the flames of struggle until I myself become the prima ballerina.

12:00 pm, my usual time to begin practicing for 6 hours straight. I start my day off as any typical young girl would, but because I go to dance school I must first learn things like history and math, all the while day dreaming about the afternoon that awaits me.

As I enter the ballet room, my heart is always happiest. Mrs. Rothman greets me with her usual stern yet welcoming face, the girls are all lined up at the bar doing their daily stretches and Mr. Finkle is waiting by the piano or Mrs. Rothman’s signal to begin. As the music plays on, one by one, the girls begin twirling across the floor like dandelion wishes floating in the meadow breeze. We are graceful, and poised like Mrs. Rothman says all ladies ought to be. If we dare slip or step out of place, we must begin again. These rules never change and I’d like them not to ever. How else can we learn from our mistakes?

It is now 6:00 pm and the girls are all exhausted and ready to leave. I am not like them, ready to give up and go home. I will remain 2 more hours and continue practicing what was learned today. My mother always says to me “Amelia, you’ll kill yourself with all that dancing.” She’s wrong, I know it. How can anyone die from doing their best? Mrs. Rothman understands me more than my mother ever will. She knows how hard I work and how badly I want the prize. This is why she lets me stay after class for as long as I do.

I cannot lie. Staying after school alone has never been the easiest thing for me. It’s gets quiet and lonely. The hallways aren’t filled with people as they once were in the early morning. There is almost an eerie feel to the school at night. It doesn’t help one bit knowing the history of the school either. A young girl was murdered here years before. Mrs. Rothman says I remind her of the girl who she once taught. She too worked as hard as I did with my dancing. There are pictures of the girl on the trophies in the hall. She was incredibly beautiful and I almost envy her or that. Most important of all, she had been chosen as Prima Ballerina and at such a young age. No one ever found out who the girls killer was but the loss remained heavy on the hearts of all those who knew and loved her.

7:30 and it’s now almost time to finish up. I am exhausted but I know I can hold out for the remainder of the time. I don’t know if it was my lack of sleep taking over but, it seemed like the lights were lowering with every move I made. “You’re almost finished and soon you’ll be home in bed sleeping the night away” I thought to myself. These mental thoughts didn’t seem to be helping though because, it got darker and darker by the minute and I was just as afraid. I stopped to look around and make sure this was really happening when the lights went off completely. For a moment my heart stopped in complete terror. This was no dream, this was reality. Without even thinking, I screamed as if it could stop the madness; and just like that, the lights came back on. I had to get out of there because I was not going to endure another episode. I quickly grabbed my bags and coat and without hesitating ran to the nearest exit. The door was locked and I couldn’t believe it. And then the most unimaginable thing happened. Across the room in the mirror there was a girl with a painfully familiar face. She didn’t move a bit, she just stood there and smiled. “Who are you?” I asked the reflection. No response. I moved closer to the mirror and questioned again, “who are you?” Still I got no response for the silent girl. Who was she? Names ran through my mind over and over and then it came to me. “You’re that girl who was murdered here.” I said confidently. The girls smile got bigger and she nodded her head with approval.

The girl had still been smiling when I decided to try opening the door again. I knew she’d locked it but I didn’t know how and I didn’t know why. As I struggled with the knob I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the girl had begun dancing. She was amazing; far better than I had ever been and even more beautiful than in pictures. Her neat blonde bun never came undone and her ruby red lip stick never smudged. She was like a neat little dancing porcelain doll. Finally, she had finished and taken a bow. You could hear the audience’s applause fill the empty room like thunder. I too began to cheer. She had been as graceful as a deer in the woods and I wanted to see more. Fate however was not my friend that night because the moment she stopped bowing the lights once again went off. In the darkness you could hear a little girls screams. “Daddy, please stop! You’re hurting me!” she screamed. I stood in terror as another voice joined in. This time it was the voice of a man. “Shut up girl!” Sounds of a whip were now echoing off the walls and I could almost feel the sting it left behind. “Who’s daddy’s princess? Huh girl? I know what you think about me. You think I’m scum don’t you? You think I ain’t good enough to be your daddy.” He laughed. There was another crack of the whip and I began to cry along with the girl. “Princess, stop all that crying now.” It felt almost like he said it to me. The man finally said “Daddy loves you” and there was a final crack of the whip. The girl’s last cry was the worst of all. It was long, bloody, and terrifying.

I fell to the floor covering myself in tears and sorrow. All the screaming had ended and the room fell silent. The lights were still dark but I didn’t care anymore. I had just found out who the girls murderer was and I was determined to share the story. I picked myself up and wiped away my tears. Unaware of the nearest exit, I stumbled around the room to find a door. I felt stools, papers and bare walls but no door. Just as I was confident that I was close to the door, I felt an arm and then a shoulder and then a neck. Sheer panic took over my body as one light shined over the girl. She was no longer the beautiful girl I had seen before in the mirror. She now had old whip markings across her face, dead cold skin, and the evilest smile I’d ever seen. This time, she was no longer in the mirror. She was standing right in front of me with the blackest eyes and I feared for my life. Before I could let out a full scream she lunged at me and let out a wicked laugh. All the lights went black and I could feel her wrestling to take hold of me. I fought and screamed for my life as she grabbed for my arms. She finally got a good grip on me and let out another evil laugh. I felt her dragging me to something but I didn’t know what. For a moment my body went completely numb and then everything stopped. It was quiet again and the girl was no longer holding me. Just then, the lights turned on. I was looking out into the room and couldn’t believe what I saw. There was the girl. She had taken on a new form. She now had raven black hair, and an oh-so familiar face. I couldn’t believe it and I don’t know how she’d done it but the girl was now me. But where was I? I looked around and felt a firm glass surrounding me. I was in the mirror. Not only that but my hands were now her hands, my face was now her face, my entire reflection was now that of the girl’s. My voice had gone along with my body so no one would ever hear my screams. The girl then picked up my bag and coat and put them on as if they’d always been hers. As she began to head towards the door, she turned around to me and said “Congratulations. You are now the Prima Ballerina.” After that, she was gone.

The End.


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