Lines of a Ballerina

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
She was no one, just a figment of a girl's imagination. A few lines formed the shape of a ballerina who had it all and lost it all.

Submitted: July 15, 2013

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Submitted: July 15, 2013




She was no one. A figment of a girl’s imagination. Soft curvy lines brought a pretty, graceful figure of a ballerina who knew nothing.

She’d stand all day, trying to ponder, but unable to grasp the concept of it. So she stood and watched the nothingness in silence.

Days passed; her mind still racing. She could not think, want, or put images together. Her eyes, lacking pupils, rose in wonder.

“I want thoughts,” she declared. Pupils now appeared, and her mind began to overflow. She stood there, gleaming, as a new rush of ideas came to her. Thoughts appeared out of nothing. Ideas out of the blue. How excited was she to enjoy this miracle.

Still, as she thought for a week, her mind began to comprehend boredom. With her new intellect, she analyzed her outfit. ‘A hobby,’ she thought, ‘I need a hobby.’

“I want to dance,” she declared. Her legs lifted to her pleasure. Her arms formed a hoop. Her chin high, smiling, she jumped. A twirl. A land.

Weeks went on as she danced. Feeling more alive than ever, her mind rarely thought as she moved. Graceful, elegant. A little ballerina.

As the weeks wore on, though, her small body of merely a few lines began to do the same. As happy as she was with dance, her body didn’t feel the same. Her mind wandered often as she took to her favorite past time, constantly thinking about the same thing.

Her mind was clouded. Her thoughts could not even be described. They didn’t seem to be thoughts at all. As she took a day off to evaluate herself, she realized they weren’t really thoughts. They were something else, definitely. She felt as if she needed another little body or two like herself near her, to dance with her. Actually, she couldn’t quite understand that she was feeling lonely, but she knew what she was going to do.

“I want friends,” she declared. More lines appeared to form other little figures such as herself. Overcome with joy, she forgot the rest of her thoughts as she danced with her newfound friends, happily and carefree.

They did not speak, however. They only mimicked her movements, unable to comprehend the world around them. They were clueless, as she once was. So they danced. Their world became splattered with vibrant colors. Shades of red on the never-ending ceiling, green on their left as far as the eye could see. Just splatters of colors before them. The ballerina admired the beauty before looking at her friends.

Realizing they needed to be called, yet had nothing for that position, she pondered. She looked at one of the figures.

“You will be Lina,” she proclaimed. The figure’s eyes, without pupils only stared. The ballerina turned her attention to the other figure.

“You will be Grace,” she stated. The figure only watched. The ballerina looked down upon herself.

“I will be Bella,” she said. The figures did not reply.

As the months wore on, the ballerina felt a familiar emptiness, this time not longing for friends. Her heart ached as she acquired a taste for a different type of companionship. The more her heart ached for it, the more her mind explored the thought, the more she craved it.

“I want love,” she stated. More lines appeared to form a silhouette different than the others. The figure was broad, with sharper lines and and an angular facial structure. The ballerina swooned at the mere sight of the figure standing before her.

She embraced him with a hug, her heart at ease. The figure, clearly confused, accepted the embrace. His eyes, too, had no pupils.

Hugs were wonderful. Every time she wished for one, he accepted with no delay. Kisses were difficult, for they had no mouths which they spoke from. Their faces touched to call it a kiss.

She called him Milo. With his presense, she felt like she glowed. Her friends worshipped her, her love adored her, her passion always to her use. Her mind was filled with ideas, but too frightened to destroy the balance, she kept them at bay.

Until one day, she realized her life was repetitive and the reason why. Her friends and love did not have thoughts of their own, free will, no way to communicate to her properly. Her friends didn’t understand her.

With that, she didn’t think twice before she declared her nearly final wish. “I want my friends to have thoughts,” she said. Her friends suddenly looked at her with a new interest, cocking their heads to the side. Overjoyed, the ballerina clapped her hands in signal for them to dance and for her love to watch.

They did not follow. They looked at one another in awe. The ballerina began to dance, urging them to join her. They did not. Lina took a step forward.

“Why?” she asked. Bella stopped for a moment in her tracks, her mind revolving around that question. She thought nothing of it, just the new undeveloped intellect of her friend.

“Why, it’s fun,” she answered. Lina shook her head.

“I want to color,” she declared. Grace nodded.

“I want to sing,” Grace added. The ballerina, shocked at the scene before her, watched as her two friends walked away towards a splotch of red. Grace’s soft lullaby was the first and last music was the last tune the ballerina ever heard.

In despair, she ran into the arms of her love. Milo grabbed for her, staring into her eyes. She sensed something was wrong with him as well.

“I don’t ‘love’ you,” he told her, “I love her.” His gaze shifted towards the two figures in the distance. The ballerina watched as he let her go and followed her friends, unsure of whom he was referring to.

The ballerina was devastated as she watched them disappear. She turned her back towards them, her emotions running wild from her control. She raised up to the tips of her toes, preparing for a jump.

She released herself like a spring, only to fall down on to the nothingness with a massive thud. Her body ached in all places. Her mind unfocused, she couldn’t even dance anymore. Tears formed in her eyes. She could not get up.

Her body’s agony was massive as it toppled over the pain in her head and heavy burden on her heart. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks only to drip down in all directions on the empty space below her. She had to break free from all of her bonds.

“I don’t want love,” she screamed. Milo vanished. The pain in her heart lifted up. Milo ceased to exist.

“I don’t want friends,” she said. Grace and Lina ceased to exist. Lina’s colors went with her. Grace’s lullaby was never heard again. The ballerina’s mind was at ease.

“I don’t want to dance,” she called out. Her body hurt no longer. She picked herself off the ground, but could not prevent the tears escaping her eyes.

Everything she ever wanted and had was gone. All that was left were her thoughts, which was too running mad. She rid herself of everything, but how could she cope with the loneliness she’d feel and the boredom she’d have to withstand?

Her memories would remain with her. Her experiences would forever live on. Even as time would go by, she’d begin to crave the same things she’s craved before. She couldn’t wish for it again, in fear that everything would only repeat itself. Her friends couldn’t be brain dead. They were just lines formed into figure without their thoughts.

The ballerina only began to cry harder as the harsh reality struck her. There was no way she could live with the same thoughts racing in her head, reminding her every day of this horrible nightmare she lived through. Not bothering to clear her eyes, she inhaled a deep breath.

“I don’t want thoughts,” she whispered. Her mind stopped. Her pupils disappeared.

There stood a beautiful ballerina formed by a few thin, black lines, forever crying in the white, empty nothingness. She was no longer Bella. She was no one, just a figment of a girl’s imagination.

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