Battle in Dance

Posted: July 19, 2013 by writingsprint in Choices, Fantasy, Science fiction
Tags: , , , ,

rageJeana focused her mind completely on the music. One, and two, three, and four, turn, step, step, jete! Her body sang and the Force sang with it as she landed in time with the music. Jeana imagined herself falling into a pool of water to keep from smiling at –

“No! No! Stop! And stop the music!”

So much for falling into water; Jeana felt like a fish being jerked out of a lake. She pulled up. Miss Graha, her dance teacher, walked over to her. The entire class hushed. Jeana felt their fear. She turned red. Miss Graha had been the most famous dancer on Corellia until an ankle injury two years ago. Jeana had idolized her. Jeana sensed bitterness, rage, something sick that she couldn’t put her finger on.

She knew better than to say anything.

Miss Graha stared at her from inches away for a full three seconds. Jeana looked back, eye to eye.

“You missed your mark. Again.”

Jeana looked down at the floor. She stood on a black X taped to the wood. “This is…”

“Not that one!” Miss Graha stepped to the right and stomped on another X. “This one!”

“That’s my takeoff for the leap!”

“Nonsense! Am I blind?” She turned to the rest of the class and roared, “Does anyone else disagree with me?”

Jeana couldn’t read their minds, but she could sense their feelings. Every last one of them believed Jeana. Every last one of them didn’t want to face Miss Graha, either. Jeana seethed. What she wouldn’t give to face Miss Graha with a lightsaber.

Miss Graha faced Jeana again. She poked her shoulder. “Again, young lady,” she said. She might as well have told Jeana that her dancing disgusted her.

The fire of Jeana’s blood overflowed. The Force flowed through her.

This time, Jeana danced in a whirlwind. Her points sharpened to daggers. She struck silent sword blows on her marks. Behind the music, she heard gasps from her classmates. Even Miss Graha held her voice. The passion built and built and broke and consumed Jeana. If only her mother were here!

The song faded away. Jeana’s heart lifted. She cradled herself on the floor as the music turned to vapors. She unfolded her arms, opened one, then the other, and imagined the fire in her blood fading away, like a sun cooling to night.

The Force warned her first. Jeana imagined blackness. Fangs. A threat.

Normally Miss Graha would lead a round of applause for the soloist. Instead, she walked to where Jeana sat on the floor. She tapped her foot. “You hit your marks, and those were some of the most amazing leaps I’ve seen you do yet, Miss Lysset.”

Jeana heard her mother’s voice in her mind: rage is fuel. Use it wisely. When your opponent expects fury, give them calm. When she expect control, unleash your wrath.

She imagined Miss Graha on fire. Rather than asking her teacher what the hell was wrong now, Jeana asked, “But…?”

Miss Graha stammered. This time Jeana couldn’t help cracking a grin. If this had been a sparring session, she would have hit her four times by now.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t sparring. Miss Graha regained her composure. “Your expression still needs work. It’s all mechanics; there isn’t enough art.”

Jeana’s mouth dropped open. Her rage overflowed and she lost control. “Not enough what? What do you want me to do, bleed?”

Miss Graha cocked her head to the side and folded her arms.

“Oh, no. I didn’t…”

“That’s enough from you for today, young lady. Go sit down.”

“I didn’t….” It was too late. Miss Graha pointed to the side of the room where the rest of the class sat.

“I’m sorry,” Jeana hissed. She wasn’t. Jeana kicked herself. She was sorry she’d lost her cool, not for what she’d said.

The photo above was posted by user DGetz at androidcentral.com and is used without permission.

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