one stage, one smile, one dream.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
A girl retracing the steps that lead her to her dream come true and the mixture of emotions she dragged along her way.

Submitted: May 12, 2010

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Submitted: May 12, 2010



Faint baby cries and hushed chatter overtaken by the thunderous rhythm of my pulsating heart assaulted my ears. I squinted as a blaze of rainbow lights took me by surprise. As I took a nervous breath, the tremor that felt like the aftershock of an earthquake crawled through my chest, sending a rush of heat throughout my shaken body.

I peered around the long, jet-black drapes, hastily searching for her as heads began to surface from the shadows and unwanted reality began to set in. I made my way onto the newly varnished floorboards, forcing a smile. Within an instant, the entire world was silent, hundreds of piercing glares stabbing me from every direction. I felt myself shrinking inside; an unpleasant mix of self-hatred and anger overtook me and I began to feel dizzy as her overused excuses span around inside my head. A single spotlight sliced through the thick stage smoke like a lighthouse beam beckoning through the winter fog. Butterflies inside my stomach danced in perfect syncopation with the pulse of my heart and whether I wanted it to or not, it revealed me. A small, fair-haired eleven-year-old schoolgirl stood in an elegant sapphire dress and soft silk ballet shoes, staring blankly ahead like a mannequin in an empty shop window.

It was almost as if I took a dose of self-confidence, curing my bizarre desire for oxygen and slightly slowing down the pace of my heart. I felt as if I was recovering from a traumatic ‘A&E’ accident, my mum was my oxygen mask. I noticed her sneak in from the rear foyer of the theatre, hurrying down the aisle to her ‘reserved seat’. She gave a slight look of empathy and took an over-dramatic breath. She was late, but that didn’t matter anymore. I could tell she wanted me to show the world what I had to offer, and more importantly ‘The Royal Ballet School’. It was what could be my only chance to fulfil my dream, and I was more than determined to make it happen.

The passionate sound of the orchestra painted a canvas of fantasy and magic. Gentle moans and sensuous whistles carried a world of simplicity, sprinkling passion throughout the theatre, like a tiny fairytale creature scattering its magic dust to heal her companions. A summer breeze of clarinets warmed the hearts of its victims, as a grand piano lead his triumphant brass army to a sensational victory.

My whole body filled with delight as the petite figure danced flawlessly before of me, pirouetting her way across the gargantuan stage with incredible grace. Every elegant movement sent mixtures of emotion throughout the audience; every precious smile reflected from her face to my own and every sequence of leaps and turns triggered a roaring ovation. My heartbeat raced as she elevated onto the very tips of her delicate toes, grasping her position at ‘The Royal Ballet School’ securely with both hands. The whole theatre applauded her phenomenal performance. Tears and smiles flooded the room as she lifted into an ‘arabesque’ with her head held above the balconies and her delicate hands spread. The lycra dress embraced her defined shoulders as she performed a series of spectacular movements in all directions, expressing her mature posture and incredible strength.

I gleamed with excitement as the talented young dancer finished her remarkable routine with a striking pose. Her arms stretched out, partly dipped at the elbows, resembling the beautiful wings of a dove. Her fragile hands carefully placed with her thumb and index finger intentionally closer together and her feet tight in ‘releve’. The overwhelming expression on her innocent face warmed my heart, as the scarlet curtains began to draw. Swiftly, she left the stage. Claps and cheers of the audience began to fade as the credits began to roll down my television screen with a soothing piece of classical music playing in the background. I sat watching the photographs of myself and the other participants gradually fade in and out of the backdrop. A tear of happiness and satisfaction dripped down my cheek as the realisation of how far I had come over the past eleven years, hit me hard. The memory of when I received the letter of acceptance from The Royal Ballet School was still clear inside my head. After that it was like an unstoppable waterfall, racing into a cavernous pool of majestic blue waters, each step in my life was enough to thrust the water from the depth upwards, releasing the unknown thrilling events of my future from the water bed. From shows to solos, and photography to my autobiography, up until now my life has been an exhilarating and emotional chain of events, tracing back to the memorable event in my childhood.

A knock on the door, “Two minutes Miss Bolton” I smiled as the gentle earthquake tremor fluttered again, a familiar friend.

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