The Dance of Life

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As the shape that would be her father shifted from bear to badger and bird to butterfly, she followed after him as he moved towards the light. All around her, the animals continued to shift too. From feather and fur to shimmering orbs of golden colour, they whistled and sang as the music grew louder, and although she was scared of what she might find, she couldn’t help but be drawn to the promise of something more. As she flew close to the ground, she kicked up the dead leaves that had fallen from the trees, and for what felt like an eternity when in reality it was barely a second, she thought of the life she had led, and of the life she was leaving behind, and although it made her sad to think of all she’d lost, and of how far she had slipped away, she couldn’t help but smile because what a beautiful thing it was to get lost. If she’d have grown up to be a good and proper girl like they told her to, the mystery of these sights and sounds would never have come to be. The mere act of being still hurt. There was no escaping it, nor the bewildering sense of detachment that kept her forever teetering on the edge, and yet how beautiful it was to feel alive when faced with the inevitable demise that would one day embrace her. She would be a long time dead, but at this moment, she was as infinite as the night sky. It would always hurt, and yet it would always be beautiful. It was the dance of life, and here she was, so close to the source of the music that had drawn her the same as it had drawn him.

A Journal for Damned Lovers UK

A Journal for Damned Lovers US

Anthology UK / Anthology US

14 replies »

  1. If she’d have grown up to be a good and proper girl like they told her to, the mystery of these sights and sounds would never have come to be.

    I really can’t get enough of these posts.

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