Dance - Englishness 3 Storyzz - Quote of the Week

Rain splashed on the roof, the pitter pattering of raindrops falling. Each drop echoed off the glassy ceiling, sending vibrations through the room. The sound of classical music brightened the room's atmosphere. 

The lights flickered on. 1..2..3... 

Her fellow dancers took position. Each one in a costume. Each costume shining with its own character.

Ella wore a smooth, silky dress, which was long on the back - it reached all the way down to her knees. Green trimmed with glowing fuchsia beads and light blue stones. 

Tonight, Ella was to dance for the Queen of England. A solo piece.

This was a dance more important than any other. She had to bring perfection out of herself. She had to show England, and probably the rest of the world, that she was the best dancer alive.

Her headpiece felt heavier than usual, yet, it fit into her tightly bunned up hair like it had never before. 

And, as she stepped out on to the stage, butterflies left her stomach and floated into the air around her. Life escaping from her graceful limbs and dramatic motion.          

But, as she leapt a great leap into the air, her foot hit the floor with a soft, yet painful crack. Pain seeped up her leg and hit her right in the head. People's faces swam before her already teary emerald green eyes. 

She kept dancing. Though she didn't feel perfect, she wanted the audience to see perfection. She wanted the queen to see her perfection. 

Biting back the terrible pain, she continued, letting go of all the suffering that was holding her back and transforming it into emotion. Each step she took hurt. She didn't show it.

Ella danced like she had never before. Spinning, jumping, leaping, she flew through the air like a swallow in flight, her beautiful dress flapping behind her.

Ella's feet skimmed across the floor, lightly, beautifully. Eyes followed her as she glided past, poised, elegant, graceful.

Her technique was exquisite. Her presentation divine.

As she danced the final steps, the clapping started and seemed to never end. People clapped until their unfortunate hands were swollen and red.

Out of the corner of Ella's eye, she spotted the queen, smiling approvingly at Ella, a look of awe and adoration on her usually semi-serious face. It looked as if she was a young child watching a magic show for the first time.

The strangest thing was, when Ella walked off the stage, she examined her foot. It no longer stung or hurt. 

It was normal.

Her love for dance caused an unmedically proven miracle.

In the end, everything comes down to love.

You can achieve anything.

All you need is a pinch of courage in a cauldron of love.