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Rated: E · Fiction · Emotional · #2101105
A short story about choice.
The room was empty, just as my heart. It was hollow and still. I stepped inside. Even thought I had walked these floors many times before, they felt so foreign. One step, then two, then three, I began to dance a dance I knew not. I began to hum a tune I knew not. Letting my body flow and move in any direction it wished. Turning, twisting, leaping, my heart began to beat to the rhythm of my humming. As I continued I began to hear a violin play softly to the tune. Then a piano. I looked around but saw nothing. So I continued to dance seeing myself in the mirror that lined the room. I closed my eyes, feeling the melody of the music run through my veins. It began to feel as if the music was a lifeline and if it stopped I would die. I felt alive and free. I glided across the room easily knowing every step as if I had practiced it nonstop for weeks on end. It felt as if I were gliding across ice. A warm touch placed itself around my waist. Opening my eyes I saw a boy, about my age, standing behind me, his arm around my waist and his other upon my shoulder. I nervously glanced over towards the boy I thought was there but saw that he wasn't. Looking back at the mirror I saw a smile spread across his face and he whispered in my ear, "Let's dance." Lost in bewilderment in feelings I did not recognize I nodded. We began as if we never stopped, leaping, turning, spinning. All the while he held tightly bracing me when I needed and dancing along. He was amazing, his moves where impeccable, almost too perfect to be real. My heart felt almost mended as I continued. The brokenness seemed to melt away and the hurt began to fall numb under the influence of the music. The heaviness on my shoulders was lifted. My eyes closed, I was in a blanket of emotions. the music started to slow. I began to dance less and less and finally danced the last step. Holding my pose I lifted my head and looked around me. The boy was gone along with warm touch. The blanket of silence that had been there when I had first entered was back. My reflection was the only thing that I saw. The heaviness had taken up its place on my shoulders once more and the emptiness refilled my heart. Hanging my head, I turned and walked to the doorway of the big dusty room. Starring back at me was nothing but the emptiness that stayed hidden there. I closed the door to that place, that lonely room, knowing it will never be opened again. Thinking back to that moment, I realized that the silence, the emptiness, the void in my heart, the heaviness upon my shoulders, hadn't really left, It had been present to the end, but it was, I thought, a choice I had made on my own somehow to block that all out with what made my happy. And in that moment, nothing but what I had chosen to exist, existed.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2101105-The-Room