The vilest of the two spat in his face.
The aristocrats raised their hands in 'aye.'
It was unanimous.
There was a new kakistocrat in town, ready to take the reigns, no matter how much he didn't want to.
Sinister mumbled his last words, but everybody was too busy to listen. "My reign must be a record, it was what? Two minutes long? Ha. Ha. Joke's on you."
He let his head fall back and died.
The End.
On Pointe All Day Long
Many people think they can remember things from when they're four years old. Truth is, that unless they've had a traumatic experience, those memories are fabricated, imaginations with the framework built from someone's retelling of the incident or even a photograph, with the older mind filling in the gaps.
However, Natalia's memory of the first day she saw ballet was accurate. It was something wonderful, something that had such an impact in the little girl's psyche that traumatised her and inspired her at the same time.
She remembers watching the Nutcracker unfold. It was the battle with the mice, the dancers were going back and forth, the music was loud, exciting, making her tiny little heart pound. And then the ballerina walks into the stage again, for the Nutcracker to protect her with his sword. She tiptoes into the scene, with her milky-white leotard and her fluffy tutu skirt. And she's on her tippy toes, gorgeous, ethereal, majestic.
Natalia knew at that moment what she wanted to do in life. She wanted to dance, she wanted to dance just like her, and she wanted to dance just like her in front of an audience that gasped and clapped and enjoyed the experience.
And then the four-year-old Natalia looked down at her own feet. Or rather, where they should have been. She was born sick, she didn't understand much, but the point was that she had no feet to tippy toe on, and the other girls did.
It hurt. It hurt her so much that the memory remains etched in her brain.
Natalia was seven years old. She got blades for Christmas, and she could actually walk on them. They were awkward, but she kept trying until she managed to figure it out. She fell so many times. Her father wanted to reach out and help her, her mother grabbed his hand and held him back. "Nyet. Let her do it on her own," mommy said.
Natalia squealed in delight when she managed a couple of steps. "Daddy, look!" she said and lost her balance, falling on the edge of the table.
Her mommy rushed towards her to pick her up. Natalia felt something wet on her eyebrow. She touched it, her hand came back red. The blood poured out of her cut and they had to rush her to the hospital. Seven stitches. She didn't care. She was on the blades and trying again on the very next day.
Natalia was eight years old. She asked for ballet classes, her parents turned and looked at each other, communicating with just their eyes. Daddy said, "Yes, honey," and mommy crossed her arms. "But remember what the doctors said about your bones? Well, you see, all little girls need to grow strong before they can do ballet."
"I know, daddy, I googled it. It said I can start when I'm eight. I'm eight right now, aren't I?" Natalia frowned.
Daddy looked at mommy briefly. "Yes, honey, but the doctor said it'd be best if we wait a while longer."
Now it was time for Natalia to frown and cross her arms in a mini version of her mother. "How much longer? I've been waiting ages."
"When you're nine, alright?" daddy said.
Natalia huffed out and offered her hand to her daddy. "Okay, fine. When I'm nine."
Daddy shook her hand.
Natalia turned nine. Daddy took her to buy her dancing kit. The shop was nice, it had so many nice fabrics and Natalia ran around and touched them all. The lady at the store was older than mommy, she looked like auntie. She glanced down at Natalia's blades and then pinched her cheek. "Well, well, hello my little ballerina. We'll need your spandex leotard, you'll need two of those since you'll get sweaty a lot. A tutu skirt, would you like this pink one?"
Natalia shook her head. She wanted a white one, and pointed at it.
"Alright then," the lady said. "White it is." She turned to a top shelf. "And of course, no self-respecting ballerina can go without a magnificent pair of silk pointes-"
The lady stopped talking. She froze, holding the gorgeous ballerina shoes on her palm, presenting them to Natalia. She glanced down at the blades, then up at Natalia. Her eyes went wide and she started to stutter. "I-I'm so sorry," she said, turning to daddy. "I wasn't thinking, I'm terribly sorry."
"It's alright," daddy said, pushing the ballerina shoes away. "Just give us the rest of the kit."
"Of course," the woman said, keeping her head down.
Natalia tried them on, they fit perfectly, and she looked at her reflection in the mirror. If she ignored the blades, she could almost imagine herself as the ballerina she saw when she was little.
The lady put the ballet kit in a shiny bag with a nice bow and daddy paid for them. She frowned and said nothing more.
Natalia didn't care. She couldn't wait to start dancing lessons next week, it was the only thing that mattered to her.
Natalia got to her first ballet lesson. All the girls were there with their moms, Natalia had her daddy waiting for her. The other moms found that very interesting and kept asking daddy various questions in very squeaky voices, and daddy sighed and answered them all. Natalia went to change, she put her leotard on, and her fluffy tutu, and a bow on her hair, and her white pantyhose and she was ready. The other girls stared at her blades.
"What are those?" one of the ballerinas asked, reaching down to touch the blades.
"My blades, I use them to walk with," Natalia replied. "I'm Natalia, what's your name?"
"I'm Marina," the ballerina said, lifting her nose.
"Do you want to be friends?" Natalia asked, smiling.
Marina laughed. "I'm the prima," she said, as if that meant something and ended the conversation. She spun around in a pointe turn and walked away.
The dancing class was amazing for Natalia. She loved everything, the feeling, the teacher showing them the five positions of ballet, the tutus, it was heaven.
Until the teacher asked them to try the positions out.
The girls pushed their legs around in the awkward first position, just turning the balls of their feet outward completely. She walked along the line of girls, commenting on their posture. "Correct, nice, karasho, little straighter, don't wave your hands around, always be aware of them, keep them rigid, nice, da, that's perfect, that's good for now, very well, Marina, and... oh." The teacher stopped in front of Natalia. She put her hand on top of her mouth. "That's, good enough, yes. What's you name, sweetheart?"
"Natalia, miss." She was excited, and kept her legs in the first position. Or, at least an approximation of that position, since she couldn't possibly do the pose herself.
"Natalia, that's good enough," the teacher said and patted her on the head.
Marina snorted loudly, and the girls next to her whispered something.
Natalia didn't care. She was learning ballet, finally! This was all she ever wanted in life.
Natalia was ten. She had been learning so much at ballet! But she couldn't do all the positions, in fact she could do none of the basic five positions. Her teacher usually nodded and skipped Natalia, or just paid no attention to her. She didn't mind, she just stood there at the end, being a pretty little ballerina, dancing away. But she was getting flexible, she could arch her upper body backwards, she could reach down and touch her 'toes,' with air-quotes, meaning the tips of her blades. She could spin, she could turn, she could do everything.
Everything except dance with Evan. He was blond, sweet, kind. All the girls wanted to dance with him, but of course during the actual rehearsals only Marina did. He was from a nice family, he had a soft voice, and he could lift you up and keep you there! Evan was so strong.
Evan never danced with Natalia, though.
It was time to refit her blades. They were getting quite worn out and she was ge
tting bigger, so daddy took her to the prosthetiscist. He was a funny guy named Lenny.
"I'm a ballerina," was the first thing Natalia told the young man as she popped her blades off.
He held her blades in his hands over his workspace and Natalia sat on a stool on the other side. "Well, yeah, you're using these quite extensively. I can fix them up right away."
"I'm getting taller!" Natalia said, puffing her chest.
"That you are, missy. We can accomodate for that, don't you worry. I've got some new alloys that will make the ride smoother."
"I don't need smooth. I need to be able to do the five positions of ballet. Can you do that?" she asked.
Lenny turned to her daddy. "What's that?"
"Um, positioning of the feet, you know. Like a ballerina," daddy explained quietly, showing with his twisted palms.
"Oh, no, sorry, you don't have any articulation down there," Lenny chuckled. "Why would you want to do that anyway? Getting a twisted ankle is no fun, Natalia."
Natalia pouted. "But miss Olga says I need to be able to do them to be a proper ballerina. Without the five positions, how can I be one?"
Lenny started working on the blades, removing the worn parts. "Natalia, you gotta expand your mind. Having an ankle to twist is a structural flaw." He pointed a screwdriver at her. "Tell me, don't the other girls complain about their legs getting tired?"
"All the time!" Natalia rolled her eyes theatrically.
"But you don't. See? It's already better your way." Lenny smiled and continued working on the blades.
"But miss Olga..."
"Miss Olga's mind is very limited," Lenny said. "Tell her that your very clever and awesome prosthetiscist said that she should adapt your plies and your turns or whatever to what you can do, and stop trying to force you to do what you simply are not equipped to."
Natalia frowned at him. "Those are too many words. Can you write them down for me?"
Lenny laughed. "It's okay, I think your dad can carry the message for me." He finished screwing new blades, they were shiny. "Here, try these on."
Natalia wiggled the stumps of her legs in anticipation. Daddy helped her pop them on and she hopped on her feet, balanced like a proper ballerina, then gave it a spin. Then another, then another. She finished with a flourish, her hands opened delicately in a ballerina's pose.
"Wow, Natalia!" Lenny clapped his hands. "That was awesome, see? Let me get some pictures of you for the website, if that's okay with your dad?"
Daddy nodded.
Natalia performed her turns and Lenny took video and some pictures to put online on Agora. She was really proud to be able to help Lenny, because he was helping her and all the kids just like her.
Natalia was eleven. It was the casting call for Nutcracker. Maxim Kumarov, the famous choreographer needed a few children ballerinas for his ballet.
The girls were anxious. "I can't believe we're getting this chance!" one said.
"It's certain Mr. Kumarov will pick you, Marina," another said.
Marina simply raised her chin and carried on with her workouts.
Evan was across the dancing hall, stretching in his ballet tights. He looked magnificent, and all the girls stared at him when they could. "He's a really good dancer, it's a safe bet that Mr. Kumarov will pick him for the part."
The auditions were the scariest thing Natalia had ever experienced in her life. One after another, miss Olga called the names of the little ballerinas and they walked on stage, bowed, and performed in front of Mr. Kumarov. He sat on the front seat, smoking. He'd express discomfort, or clap, or give another instruction. Or, he'd simply say, "Next! Davai, davai," and the girl would hurry off the stage and go crying into the embrace of her mother.
"You can do it, Natalia," daddy said and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
"Really, daddy?"
"Oh, definitely," he said. "Daddy knows everything."
Natalia was left for last. Marina was the one before her, looking smug as always. Perhaps miss Olga wanted to keep her best ballerina till the end, surprise the famous choreographer. Everyone kept saying it wasn't a sure thing, after all.
Marina walked on stage, looking wonderful, stepping on pointe, being magnificent. Of course, Mr. Kumarov had a keen eye, he could see faults and details where others couldn't. He pointed out one such mistake as soon as Marina stepped in front of him, and all the girls smiled. Natalia did not.
Marina turned her lips into a line and performed for the demanding man. He nodded, stippling his fingers, his attention on her. He gave her a few more instructions, she performed beautifully.
Mr. Kumarov waved. "Bring the boy, please."
Miss Olga pushed Evan onto the stage and all the ballerinas sighed as he walked past them. The music started. He got on the mark and followed the instructions of Mr. Kumarov, dancing with Marina.
Every second that passed, the previously bored Mr. Kumarov became more and more animated, leaning forward. "Da, da. Excellent," he mumbled.
The girls peeked through the stage curtains. "Of course he'd pick Marina, she was born to be a prima," one of them said and the others agreed.
He lifted her up by her delicate waist, she kept her perfect posture and landed with the barest hint of touch. They truly were amazing together. This was ballet, this was how it was supposed to be performed. Mesmerising, beautiful, ethereal. In other words, ballet.
A few minutes passed and miss Olga stepped on stage. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kumarov, there's one more girl for you to see."
"But I don't really need..." he started to say and stopped himself. "Of course, bring her in."
Miss Olga looked apologetic. "Mr. Kumarov, this ballerina cannot move in and out of the pointe position."
He sucked in his cigarette, making the tip burn. "What's the point then? Ha, funny. The point, not the pointe."
Marina and Evan started to leave the stage.
"Nyet, you, the boy, stay. Dance with the last girl, eh? I wanna see some more of your moves."
Nonono.
No.
NO.
As if the audition wasn't stressing enough, she had to dance with Evan as well? Of course she wanted to, but not right now! Daddy pushed her on stage, she stepped awkwardly with her new blades.
Mr. Kumarov stared at them and frowned deeply. He lit another cigarette. It seemed to Natalia he had made his decision already. Truth was, that her blades were ugly. They had no place in ballet, that's what miss Olga said. But Natalia was here to audition for a real production of the Nutcracker with a world-famous choreographer, so she wasn't going to just give up.
She gulped audibly and walked up to Evan. He smiled at her, but he too seemed to feel awkward around her. Natalia realised that she was the only girl Evan had never danced with during their lessons. Natalia stood opposite of him, bowed in a proper ballerina pose, and the music started.
They danced wonderfully, it was only natural since Evan was a wonderful dancer himself and Natalia had been dreaming about this moment for a year now.
Mr. Kumarov spoke on the phone. Natalia knew she had lost the audition to Marina, but she didn't really care right now. She was dancing with Evan, and she felt loopy, like she was flying around him.
And then it was time for the lift. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up, Natalia heard the girls gasp as he did so, and Natalia kept her posture as best as she could and waited for him to bring her down.
She touched the floor with her blades and opened her hands in a flourish.
"Ouch!" Evan cried out.
Oh no. Natalia looked down, horrified.
"You cut me," Evan said and held his foot. Blood seeped out into his white costume. His mother rushed in, miss Olga, everyone.
Natalia stepped backwards on top of her blades. She wanted to rip them out, throw them away, crawl on her hands out of there, never to be seen again.
Her daddy came in and hugged her, but she didn't feel better. The damage was done.
Natalia was twelve. Marina w
ent on to dance for the Nutcracker, just like everyone expected her to.
Evan's injury was much worse than they thought, a tendon was cut and it snapped when he tried to dance again. He needed surgery, the tissue never healed right and he abandoned the ballet. Her mommy and daddy argued a lot about this and they didn't take her back to the same dancing school ever again.
Natalia kept practising on her own. She put on her tutu, turned on her ballet music, she watched YouTube videos, she kept learning and practising every single day.
Mommy sometimes told her it was pointless but then daddy would whisper to her and they'd leave her to her dancing. Natalia kept reliving that wonderful dance with Evan, his blond hair, the way he picked her up, the way she flew in his arms. She went through her steps again and again. She should have just dropped this way, she thought, crossing her legs in the proper way, and not this way. She shouldn't have tried to mimic the way a ballerina with all her limbs could land. She simply was limb-different, she had accepted that. Why couldn't the rest of the world accept it as well? If miss Olga had taught her how to land the way Natalia should, there wouldn't be an accident. Natalia wouldn't have injured Evan, wouldn't have ruined something beautiful.
But, maybe miss Olga didn't know how to teach her that. That's what Lenny said, anyway. Maybe she hadn't even tried to figure it out. But Natalia had figured it out, see, it was just like this. No big deal. Natalia landed properly again and again. Her blades made the landing even smoother than Marina's.
Natalia was thirteen. Lenny called, daddy said he was really excited. They went over to the prosthetics workshop, Natalia always liked seeing Lenny.
"My favourite ballerina!" he greeted them, clapping his hands. "I have very good news for you."
"What is it, Lenny? Something new for my blades?"
Lenny pointed a finger at her. "Actually, yes. But that's not all. Remember those pics we took a few years ago for my website?"
MOAB � Mother Of All Boxsets Page 137