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Real world update post for today.
It's a brand new calendar year and I'm fresh off holidays where things went to sh!t and I ended up sick. No, it was not restful. But, here I am, trying to figure out whether I'm going to get anything productive done this year. Also, waiting to see if my publisher can line up enough ducks to start getting books out again. We'll see. Last year's Goodreads Reading Challenge goal was 35. I managed to read 7. This year's goal is currently set at 12. Part of my problem is I spend so much time reading things that aren't in Goodreads' database, for varying reasons, that I rarely feel like reading anything that is. And anything I am currently reading, I am reading very, very slowly. I am, once again, planning to attempt Camp Nano and Nanowrimo. Let's see how well that works out this year. Hopefully better than last year. Otherwise, I'm working on about the same writing, editing, and typing out projects I was before the winter break. I will try to remember to post daily(ish) updates on those over on my FB page. Happy New Year all. May this year bring you good things.
The recital is in the afternoon, but I'm up early, too nervous to sleep in. I spend the morning helping my mom around the house. She fixes lunch, but I have trouble eating anything. Then I walk over to the performing arts centre to meet up with my teacher and class for warm ups.
As we get dressed in our costumes, everyone is nervous. This is one of the three biggest events of the year and we've heard some directors of major dance companies will be present. The dressing room is buzzing with different names, some of which I recognize and some I don't. I try to focus on preparing for my solo. Waiting around backstage for our turn is slow torture. Our class has the second oldest students in our studio, which means we're old enough we'll be watched carefully. Our teacher is here, reminding us to breathe and that we'll be fine. I wish I believed her, but I have a knot in my stomach which just won't go away. It's a relief to finally be called onto the stage and I take deep breaths as I take my place. Then the curtain rises and I'm into my solo performance. Through every movement, I'm trying to focus on the steps and a perfect performance. Except there's just something so compelling about the music, something I hadn't noticed before and I get caught up in it. I completely lose track of the technical performance and get lost in the music and movement the way I've been warned not to over and over again. When I'm finished and go to make my curtsey before leaving the stage, there's no applause. I glance up at the audience to see expressions of horror and fear. Straightening up, there's something strange in my balance. I reach a hand over my shoulder and encounter a bony protrusion which shouldn't be there. Recalling the wings I had seen briefly in the mirror after my performance for the director on Monday, I flee the stage. Running blindly for the exit, I ignore the noises of fear and protest all around me until someone catches me up in their arms. I struggle, frantic to escape, but the person is far larger and stronger than I am. “Kedri!” The voice is familiar somehow and sharp enough to penetrate my panic, “Kedri!” Looking up, I see the dance studio director. There is no fear in his expression, only concern. I allow myself to fall limp and he sets me on my feet. “Kedri, I need you to come with me,” The director's face is completely serious, “I need you to trust me.” “But the men...” “The grey van is on its way,” The director keeps his voice soft, “You don't want them to take you, do you?” I shake my head, trying hard to suppress my panic. “Then you need to trust me.” He slips off his jacket, “Here.” He reaches around me, gently rearranging what are evidently fairly large wings, and wraps the jacket over top. Then he guides me out a small side door. We walk over to the dance studio, somehow barely noticed by the all the people out and about on their usual Saturday errands. Inside the studio, he lets me into his office. “Wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes.” I pull his jacket more tightly around me as I sit in the chair facing his desk. While I wait, I study the walls, which are covered in bookcases and framed pictures and certificates. Nothing in the office seems at all out of the ordinary. When the director returns, he is accompanied by a woman who causes me to do a double take. She is maybe my mom's age, but dressed in a crazy patchwork of colours and fabrics which dazzle the eye and make it hard to tell anything about her body. Her face is made up almost garishly. But what really catches my attention is her hair. It hangs nearly to her waist in hundreds of tiny braids, each one a different, brilliant colour. Each of her long, curved fingernails is also a different bright colour. “Kedri,” The studio director recalls my attention, “I'd like you to meet Marta. She owns a dance company in Seaside.” “Okay...” I swallow hard. “You dance beautifully,” Marta smiles warmly, “I saw your recital performance and I would love to have you join my company.” I nod slowly, “But what...” She cuts me off with a chuckle. “Do you know why dance is tolerated by the Corporation, when dancers are among the most likely to vanish from society?” I shake my head. “All I know is I've always been warned to be careful. To not get lost in the music.” “It's a passion,” Marta explains, “Some are just born to dance and to quash it completely causes more chaos than these carefully controlled and monitored dance studios.” I nod. The Corporation, the company which owns almost everything in the world, seems to be very careful in what it does and doesn't allow to happen. The men in the grey van work for them. “But some, like you, just don't belong in the grey and boring,” Marta chuckles again, “The Corporation might cut you off from your parents now, from your education, from everything you've known your whole life. I'm offering you a new life, in a place where you can do what you love without having to fear them. Unless you want to find out what the corporation does to those who get lost in their passions.” I shiver, huddling down in the borrowed jacket. “I don't really have a choice. I can't give up dancing.” “No, and you shouldn't have to,” Marta holds out a hand, “We should go before they think to look for you here.” I take her hand, accepting the help to my feet. Slipping off the jacket, I turn to the director, “Sir... thank you.” He accepts his jacket back. “You're welcome, Kedri. Take care of yourself.” I nod. Then I follow Marta down to the back door of the studio where a black van is waiting in the alley. We get into the back and take seats. As the van starts moving, Marta tells me, “Once we get there, you'll have to stay close to me for a bit. I'll show you where you'll be staying, where you'll be rehearsing and where you'll be performing. I'll also help you get anything you need right away.” “Okay.” I nod. “It's a bit of a drive,” Marta warns me, “You might want to get some sleep, if you can.” I'm not sure if I'll be able to sleep, but I curl up on the seat and close my eyes. Two things for today: Starting tomorrow, I will be once again attempting Camp Nanowrimo. I can be found on their site as aacheshire, if you want to see what I'm up to over there. This Camp session, I am working on the sequel to the novel being released in August 2021. Also... trying to write anything during record setting high temperatures is hard. I'm melting here in a place where AC is deemed 'unnecessary'. If you have cooler weather (better yet, rain) please send it to the Pacific Northwest. |
AuthorAlexandra A. 'Lexa' Cheshire is the author of numerous novels and short stories published through Howling Wolf Books. Lexa is a wife, mother, cat owner, and music lover. Archives
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