Post by Mikepoet on Mar 13, 2004 20:38:11 GMT -5
Carroll arrived at the theatre with a tight chest. She had anticipated this dance since the flyer came in the mail. Carroll loved ballet and this one was written by a local dancer named Angelle. Carroll had followed her career since when they was little girls, back when she was in ballet herself. Before the wheelchair.
She wheels in, finds a place at the end of an isle and locks her brakes. She is just in time as the ballet begins.
The lights go out ant the sound of crickets fill the air. The narrator speaks.” It’s a November morning; the air is a hint brisk. We see the sunrise over a pond that was bed for a multitude of water birds“. A dim light is seen come on above the dance floor. Carroll sees dancers sitting or lying seeming to be asleep.
“Off to the corner a swan can be seen sleeping with head on outstretched wing.” Carroll looks to see the silhouette of a dancer with her head tilted lying on her arms. Carroll sighed. Once she had danced beside Angelle . The dance instructors had made them a team saying they each had promise. But Carroll did not allow herself to think of this. She could no longer dance and she loved ballet. Her lack of bitterness surprised most, but it was not her way.
Angelle was a work of art. Her toned body from years training in ballet and ice skating. Hey poise from as much time in classical music. Chopin, Mozart had her teething marks. Carroll thought she once had a nice shape for what little had developed when the accident happened. And again she blocks the thought .No this is my happy place. Here I daydream and can be free.
Carroll allowed her daydream to wander. She wanted to be a dancer who could be a swan. Her eyes became wet for a moment.
As the aforesaid light brightens, Swan Carroll awoke. The sun was warm. It shined from above as it reflected from beneath. She let the warmth surround her. It was glorious. Sometimes mornings are like that. There’s time to enjoy life, time to take time to see the beauty.
Swan Carroll looks up to see the clouds go by. So many shapes, so many pictures, there over the trees her friend Crane. A silly laugh, his picture in the clouds.
The sound of waves against the shore cought her attention.She had watched them since she was a hatchling. A wave went by, it became a cluster, and then it was wind and gone.
The nariator mentions the swan’s friends as the other birds awaken. The lead dancer greets good mornings to all her friends.
This ballet had an orchistra and everyone played in perfect time.How wonderful and in place everything was thought Carroll.
As the swan stood up, the nariated said she took a flight.The lead dancer skipped and spun across the stage in an exuberant way.The orchastra played in happy keys and all was well at the ballet.
Angelle was fluid and Carroll felt a tinge of envy, but envy was out of place, Carroll wished only to think good thoughts. And if one of the stage hands had not dropped a pencil or if Angeles had stepped a half step further, perhaps the ballet would have ended on a better note . As life is though sometimes things happen. And on her last flight across the pond Angeles twisted her ankle and fell to the floor.
Hand on mouth the audience gasped. The orchestra diminished and Angelle sat on the floor rubbing her ankle. She knew she could not continue.
When Angelle fell a bolt of pain shot through Carols ankle. “How silly she thought. I can’t feel my legs.” But the mind is powerful and in Carols mind she had escaped through this dance to become a swan and she felt the pain.
After a moment Angelle stood on one leg. The audience gave a standing ovation which Angelle gleefully took.
The little girl in Carroll, who used to dance, still likes to deem that same little girl now cried. Tears shed for Angelles pain and because she could not be part of the standing ovation.
She wheels in, finds a place at the end of an isle and locks her brakes. She is just in time as the ballet begins.
The lights go out ant the sound of crickets fill the air. The narrator speaks.” It’s a November morning; the air is a hint brisk. We see the sunrise over a pond that was bed for a multitude of water birds“. A dim light is seen come on above the dance floor. Carroll sees dancers sitting or lying seeming to be asleep.
“Off to the corner a swan can be seen sleeping with head on outstretched wing.” Carroll looks to see the silhouette of a dancer with her head tilted lying on her arms. Carroll sighed. Once she had danced beside Angelle . The dance instructors had made them a team saying they each had promise. But Carroll did not allow herself to think of this. She could no longer dance and she loved ballet. Her lack of bitterness surprised most, but it was not her way.
Angelle was a work of art. Her toned body from years training in ballet and ice skating. Hey poise from as much time in classical music. Chopin, Mozart had her teething marks. Carroll thought she once had a nice shape for what little had developed when the accident happened. And again she blocks the thought .No this is my happy place. Here I daydream and can be free.
Carroll allowed her daydream to wander. She wanted to be a dancer who could be a swan. Her eyes became wet for a moment.
As the aforesaid light brightens, Swan Carroll awoke. The sun was warm. It shined from above as it reflected from beneath. She let the warmth surround her. It was glorious. Sometimes mornings are like that. There’s time to enjoy life, time to take time to see the beauty.
Swan Carroll looks up to see the clouds go by. So many shapes, so many pictures, there over the trees her friend Crane. A silly laugh, his picture in the clouds.
The sound of waves against the shore cought her attention.She had watched them since she was a hatchling. A wave went by, it became a cluster, and then it was wind and gone.
The nariator mentions the swan’s friends as the other birds awaken. The lead dancer greets good mornings to all her friends.
This ballet had an orchistra and everyone played in perfect time.How wonderful and in place everything was thought Carroll.
As the swan stood up, the nariated said she took a flight.The lead dancer skipped and spun across the stage in an exuberant way.The orchastra played in happy keys and all was well at the ballet.
Angelle was fluid and Carroll felt a tinge of envy, but envy was out of place, Carroll wished only to think good thoughts. And if one of the stage hands had not dropped a pencil or if Angeles had stepped a half step further, perhaps the ballet would have ended on a better note . As life is though sometimes things happen. And on her last flight across the pond Angeles twisted her ankle and fell to the floor.
Hand on mouth the audience gasped. The orchestra diminished and Angelle sat on the floor rubbing her ankle. She knew she could not continue.
When Angelle fell a bolt of pain shot through Carols ankle. “How silly she thought. I can’t feel my legs.” But the mind is powerful and in Carols mind she had escaped through this dance to become a swan and she felt the pain.
After a moment Angelle stood on one leg. The audience gave a standing ovation which Angelle gleefully took.
The little girl in Carroll, who used to dance, still likes to deem that same little girl now cried. Tears shed for Angelles pain and because she could not be part of the standing ovation.