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Thursday, November 18, 2010

The Art of Storytelling.

I wrote this story on http://www.artofstorytelling.org/ . I have shown below the picture that I used to inspire my story, and my actual story written. At the bottom I have listed the reasons that my story connects with my SIP Special Interist Project.....



Gisele walked along the wet path in Central Park, feeling the rain hit her black coat and hearing the drops on her umbrella. She was in no rush to get to the theatre, she didn't even want to be there, let alone be the first one there. Her daughter was visiting town and wanted to watch the ballet before leaving to go back to Chicago. Gisele started walking a bit faster when she heard thunder, and arrived sooner then she had hoped. Her daughter was waiting inside in the front lobby with the two tickets in her hands.
"Mom, I thought you would never show up!" her daughter exclaimed. Gisele laughed. Her daughter had definitely inherited her temper.
"Now  Charlotte, I am only fifteen minutes late, will you please stop complaining? You are lucky I even came! You know how much I hate being in this place."
Charlotte stopped her whining. She got the message. She hated hurting her mother like this, but maybe this would be the cure to her depression, watching what she once loved more than anything in the whole world. When Charlotte was a little girl, she would spend all of her days and nights in this place, watching from the back of the auditorium as the beautiful dancers glided across the stage, looking like they were angels. Now she was the one doing the dancing, but in the Chicago Ballet.
"Let's go! Let's go!" Gisele yelled, "You wanted me here so badly, now you are just staring into space! It's starting!"
The mother and daughter duo quickly retreated to the darkness of the Theatre and sat in their seats. The ballet started, Swan Lake, and the dancers came onto the stage, fluid, speaking to the audience with just their movements. They had so much energy and passion, it seemed as though they were about to lift off of the stage and start flying. Gisele felt tears running down her cheek. In every dancer’s face, she saw her own, 20 years ago. She knew the music by heart, how could she forget? She was the one leaping and spinning and moving so naturally and gracefully even though she wasn’t even thinking, and as the song came to an end and she felt the powerful music running through her body, she felt beautiful. As she came to her ending pose and heard the cheers of the audience, she felt so confident and proud, her whole face was glowing, and she was the queen of the world.
She couldn’t take it any longer. She ran out of the theatre just as the cheers erupted. Everything was in slow motion. Flashes of her carrer here in this very place flashed in front of her. Her extensive auditions, the hard training, everything came rushing back.
The night.
The lights from the stage hurting her eyes.
The feeling of her pointe shoes on her feet spinning and jumping through the air.
The finale.
The silence in the theatre.
The jump.
The land.
The fall.
The gasps.
The pain.
The news, she would never dance again.
The depression.
Gisele ran faster and faster until she was out in the rain, her makeup running. She fell to the ground sobbing. Feeling once again the feeling of pure agony that she would never be able to do the one thing in the world she wanted, ever again. She pittied herself. It was the past! She should not be so mad at herself!
Now she saw flashing scenes from after her dancing career.
Meeting her husband.
Having a baby.
Watching her grow up.
She felt the warm hands of her daughter wrap around her and she leaned into them, calming down
Seeing how great she became.
“I love you” Charlotte whispered.
“I love you more” Gisele said with a laugh. “I think...we should go back in..”
“No, mom, I don’t want to hurt you any more.”
“No I want to. I shouldn’t have broken down like that. I want to. Really. Besides, you spent a fortune on these tickets, I would hate to see them go to waste.”
Charlotte smiled and escorted her into the theatre.
This time when she looked at the dancers on the stage, she saw her daughter.
Now watching her little girl live her own dream, becoming a greater dancer than she herself ever was. She was every girl that was twirling and leaping and speaking the secret language of dance. It was Charlotte’s turn to be queen of the world.
_________________________________________________________________


Okay, so I know that it wasn't the best story, but I only had about a half hour. My Special Interist Poject was about ballet, so you can most definitly see the similarities. The statement I want to make in this story is that you have to let the past go, and see how amazing your life is now. Things like dancing give so many people power and strength, that they think without it, they cannot go on. This is not true. When something like this gives you strength, you hold on to it, and keep it with you throughout your life.

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