Wednesday Stories: Pirouette

Eye to eye. They were.

She drew courage, and a breath. At her own dark eyes she stared. She stood. A minute or two. A string of music floated around the square room filling it to the brim with notes. Rolled up and down on the ball of her feet, she did, then waited until that swift moment when the notes, now strong and dense lifted her by her fingers and she rose, over the ball to the tip of them toes.

Pause. Securely on the tip she was.

Eye to eye. Extended limb and then a spin.

And in the mirror she saw the gyrating meat on toes flickering back and forth. Eyeball. Back of head. Eyeball. Back of head. Eyeball.

Back of head.



Deep breaths, nearly short. But caught.

Fishsticks. Half digested on the wooden floors. The sour smell of vomit rode on the wings of notes to fill the room as she picked herself up to once again turn.

Again and again.

Her back on herself.

Its beginning looped to its end. The pirouette.

Beginning again.

Eye to eye.

For the Word Prompt Pirouette

and InMon: go back to the end