The Dancer and The Dance

Six months.

He wasn't really sure what it meant at first, and often would run the words across his tongue. "You have six months to live," the doctor said, shaking his head.

Six months, and then would he be nothing? What was that anyway? How could the doctor know how long he had to live? What gave him the right to say that?

But, six months later, he was lying in a hospital bed - barely able to move. He wanted to scream out, but his voice was not as loud as it once was. He just wanted to be able to react against this somehow. He was once a dancer. He was used to having his body listen to him. He had spent his whole life trying to get it to do that. And now, now it was completely feeble. He was barely able to lift his head anymore.

The end, the end, the end.

But no. This wasn't the end yet. He was not dead yet. The only way he knew this is that his body still seared with pain. It wasn't the end but, to tell the truth, he kind of wanted it to be now.

He missed not being able to dance. He missed the stage. He missed that moment of unity between music and body. Between the dancer and the dance. He missed being a part of life.

Machines and beeping. He wasn't sure what they did, but he didn't want to find out. Doctors and nurses. They seemed oddly blurry now, far away.

Blurry and far. And then melted away completely.

All before him felt hazy and clouded, but then he stood. For the first time in months, he stood up and looked at the room around him. He could see nothing. He could see nothing, but he could still hear.

Music. That was the only word for what it was. Cold and gray, the sounds around him swirled and he felt his body lift its foot in the air. A dance.

He closed his eyes, and he twirled to this music that came from all around him. He felt it enter his veins and purge him of all the pain that had built itself around his body. He smiled and danced. He stopped for a moment and, in his happiness, smiled larger and brighter than he had ever in his life. So much that he felt his body would have nothing to do but to explode and leave his spirit to dance forever.

Machines and beeping. Doctors and nurses. Hazy, clouded noise. And music. Then an immense smiling that felt like it could completely destroy the body that held it because of its size. Then an explosion. Then, nothing.

---------
Inspired by a conversation with someone who said that my writing wasn't something they could relate to. This is an attempt at drawing my writing outside myself to make it more "relateable".

~KB.