My head hurts right now and I am rather flustered. So to soothe myself to sleep, I am going to write a short story for all of you, (Idea came from a writing prompt from my friend's writing club at school.)
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
Here lay the hands of Anita Rita.
Gentle, yet firm, they would grasp tightly around the balance bar.
Here stood the toes of Anita Rita.
Delicate, yet precise, they would frolic and sometimes fumble on the hardwood floor.
Cracked and broken.
Much like herself.
Only, mirrors can be fixed - suicide and self-reflection, however, cannot.
Here lay the toes of Anita Rita.
Ready to become a Prima Ballerina.
But her disbelief swallowed her whole, taking with it, Anita Rita herself.
So here she laid, on top of the hardwood floor.
Gente and delicate, yet firm and precise.
No longer would her hands grasp or her toes frolic.
Now they lay here, firm as the floor below and never...
Never,,,,
Never to move again.
