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The Ballerina

By Matilda


Mesmerising. Capturing. Entrancing. Each movement enthralled him to take that one step closer. The flick of her wrist as she twirled. The point of her foot as she leaped. His eyes fixated on her almost floating limbs. She was enchanting, like the snake charmer at the circus, you couldn’t take your eyes away as she methodically swished her arms.


The dainty spin of her fingers made him soon forget why he was there. Her hair lay flat on her chest as the dance continued. He soon forgot who he was. It was light brown, perfectly still even as she lept through the air as if she weighed nothing. He soon forgot what he was. She was magnificent, he almost didn’t notice the black sludge on her white dress.


Now she called him. He felt the pull of her and he took a step closer. He almost didn’t notice her contorted limbs. She slowly reached out a silky, forked hand and clasped his shoulder. He almost didn’t notice the scaled claws.


She stopped. He froze.


A shout erupted from his mouth as he scrabbled at her hand, trying desperately to claw his way out of her serpentine arm now wrapping itself around him. Her bone white torso closed over his head and her disfigured lips twisted into an eye-less smile as he disappeared.

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