The early morning sunrays crept through the window, reddened by the velvet curtains onto the wooden flooring. The warm fire crackled softly under the mantel piece, the flickers of flames danced up the chimney with its own individual glow. Pins revolving around a glass cylinder plucked at its teeth and out came a musical chime, a sharp lullaby while a wooden man and woman endlessly circled to its melody, sealed in a pink box, she was dressed in white feathers. First position, a grand jete, stretching the limbs, the lightness on the feet lifts me off the floor. Second position, demi-plié, half bent knees, third position, jump, upwards, to the side, a skip a cascading sweep. A swan taking flight, a butterfly moving its wings, a flower dancing in the breeze. Third position a landing on the floor, crack, Brisé, broken, breaking, the leg twisted up from the back, bone crunching and sockets popping. Fourth position, bending backwards till the skull touched the heels, the spine could bend all the way, a primrose would bounce back. Blotchy black blue and red appearing on the skin, the shoes soaked crimson, arms dancing mercilessly on their own, a frantic bird in peril. Shoulder blades had slammed against the wall and, head crushed on the floor, red dripped down to the lips. Hands against the wood, leaning up it bending the fingers, further, further, further, cracking, snapping, one to eight, broken. Fifth position, the toes of each foot reaches the heel of the other before lifting the body back up to its graceful elegance. Before this would have been impossible.
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