The haunting![]()
notes of Tchaikovsky satiates the emotions of its listeners; and as the dancing swans pirouette effortlessly and transversely upon the stage, the spectators will gasp in horror as the one I love falls to her death. I have witnessed her demise a thousand times; and my heart never fails to be wounded. Her blood seeps through layers of tulle and feathers, in the same moment that her dark-shaded eyes close and the curtains fall. As I rise from my seat for what will be the last time, I enter the dark streets alone; knowing that her gaze had never met mine, knowing that she never knew how enthralled I was by her beauty.
©2013.alittlebirdtweets
Filed under:
Flash Fiction Tagged:
Alone,
Ballet,
Beauty,
Blood,
Curtains,
Dancer,
feathers,
Fiction,
Heart,
Horror,
Psychological-horror,
Psychological-thriller,
Stalker,
Streets,
Swan,
Tchaikovsky,
Theatre,
Tulle,
Up to 200 Words,
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