The Amazing Story Challenge: Day 4

The Amazing Story Challenge: Day 4

Date: March 6^th, 2016

Numbers: 33, 53, 38

Prompt: “A thousand years from now, a retired ballet dancer wakes up in a strange house.”

Medium: Poem

Home

By: Hayley Michelle Trachtenberg

The floors fit on her feet.

Like an old friend greeting her.

And yet,

She had no recollection of this place.

The hard wood hugged her arches,

Crumbling from years of dancing.

Her arches, now as flat as the floorboards,

Paced up and down the halls.

The halls reminded her of her childhood,

But she did not grow up here.

The walls brought her nostalgia,

Yet she had no memories of this place.

The house creaked beneath her feet,

But the achiness of the frame mirrored her body’s;

The house and her ached as one.

She ached when sat in chairs and looked through windows,

Watching tiny girls in tutu’s begin at the bar.

She cried bittersweet tears

For ballerina’s that would peak at 20.

Their bodies would betray them,

Their mentors would belittle them,

They minds would enslave them,

And Their spirits would escape them.

They would be left archaic machines

When they could no longer dance.

They would be left with old photos,

Copies of playbills,

Bruises on their heels,

And several broken toes.

But in the end they would all say it was worth it.

She swears it was worth it…

Her hands traced the door frames;

She doesn’t remember walking through them.

She doesn’t remember taking the shuttle to this place.

She doesn’t remember going up the stairs.

She must have.

She must have carried her tired body through the house,

To the empty room with the open windows.

It felt like summer here.

She smiled into her hand,

As walked into all the rooms.

All empty, but welcoming.

Like it was waiting to be filled with something.

With her.

The space was filled with her presence.

Filled with her being;

The light hit her in a way that she was sparkling,

Like she was shiny.

Like she was new.

Her feet traced out patterns in the dust,

The house was old,

She was now old;

45, and old,

the words didn’t feel right in her mouth

but her body aged faster than her mind.

The house was far older,

Older than the ships and shuttles of today,

Reminiscent of childhood and happiness

Lost a thousand years in the past.

The house spoke to her.

Not in words, not in a way she could describe,

But it spoke to her.

Held out an arm,

Picked her up,

And twirled her.

Then and there, she knew where she was.

The room stood still,

But she did not.

She swayed, and jumped,

And arched, and leapt;

Swept and curled,

Tapped and Tumbled;

Like a hurricane dying

Or the last snow of winter,

Everything hurt her.

But nothing would take this moment from her,

As she danced a duet with the house.

She moved to the left, and the floorboards creaked,

She swayed into the corner, and the dust scattered beneath her:

To her, this was everything.

This strange feeling,

This swan song dance,

This old place;

This strange place:

This house was her home.