Dance of Death

"Why do you do it?"  Her friend asked her.  "Why do you put so much of yourself into this dance?"  She had just finished her dance on the stage, and there was the typical reactions to her dance.  Some applauded, some were silent and unsure of what they had watched, but it was one man in particular whose reaction was the most precious.  He cried.

"For a reason too complex to articulate, yet that man's reaction was all I look for in an audience."  Her friend frowned.

"The tears?"

"The emotions.  He saw the pain, the agony, the torment, and the release.  He didn't cry then.  He cried when I danced the second part."

"I don't understand.  The second part?"

"In the second part, he saw everything again, but he didn't see release from it all.  He saw purpose."  She smiled softly at her friend.  "I know your pain, and I hope you might see it too."  Her friend looked away, but Connie hugged her anyway.

"Watch me tonight.  See me dance."  Coral frowned.

"But we're closed."

"I must practice.  Its my only release."

Coral's curiosity got the better of her, so she followed her friend to the empty theater, and the empty stage.  The set up was quick.  Only a few simple props in her bag, and some lights.  Connie danced for her friend.

Coral was quick to pick up on the nuances.  Daggers to slice the skin, but only draw blood and pain, not death.  She swayed to no music except for what was in her head, and heart.  It was expressive, and creative, showing the pain of choices made, and loves lost.  She showed how bare her heart was, and how torn she felt.

She danced of a death not her own, and the anger that followed.  The anger and the agony.  The choices she made propelled that uncertain future into a past reality.  Each step became weighted, and the dance got lower and lower to the stage floor.  Then Connie stood, a hidden noose hanging from her neck, the rope in her hand, and a rafter in view.

Coral was mesmerized now.  She had missed these nuances, and almost rushed onto the stage to stop her friend from throwing the rope over the rafter above her head.

The dance resumed.  The noose disappeared, and the daggers reappeared.  A fight to the death with an unseen assailant, and she was barely the victor.  She staggered from side to side, and held out her hands to an unseen lover off in the distance.  Slowly, she lowered her hands, and herself to the stage once again.

The noose reappeared, but instead of holding onto the rope, she untied it, and began to dance again.  She turned and looked at Coral, holding out her hands, calling to her with her will, and a purpose.  She couldn't resist the pull, and unconsciously, she danced over to her.

Connie smiled softly as she danced and made Coral a part of the story.  She became the lover who left.  Coral began to fill in parts of her own pain in the story.  She told her of how her lover got sick, how everyone abandoned her when she needed them the most, and how that sickness turned to death.

She danced and bled her pain on the stage, and her tears fell faster, and harder then at any other time of her life.  The daggers flew in Connie's hands, and she placed herself between Coral and the noose on the other side of the stage.  She tried to dance around, but each time, Connie circled her, pulled her back from the edge, and soon, she turned her completely away.

The noose appeared in Connie's hands, but instead of being around her neck, or given to Coral to place, she pulled it wide open, and placed it about their waist, and pulled it tight.  She held Coral to her with the rope, and in one last movement, their bodies entwined, their limbs coiled around the other, and Coral cried helplessly.

Connie held her for hours, crying into her shoulder, until she could cry no more.

"And now you know why I dance.  I do not dance for death.  I dance to find purpose.  I dance for life.  For love."  Coral lifted her eyes, and her tear stained cheeks.  For the first time in a while, Connie saw a smile there.

"You dance for me."