She danced along the length of the mirror, long black hair flowing down her back, flicking wildly with the movement of her graceful body. A delicate beauty, a flower that only blossomed when the sun rose, and every eye would be upon her. But the fragile soul was trapped forever in the frame of reflective glass, never to stop dancing. Her toes ached and everything around her was spinning. Her world was out of control, but she let the addictiveness of movement take away her pain and senses, to live in a illusion of bliss. The curse pulsed through her veins, but she was too tired to stop it consuming her. Blood dripped down from her feet when the skin couldn't take the pressure, soaking her shoes a bright red. She leaped and she soared higher than she had ever done in her previous life and she felt alive ever time she landed perfectly, and she landed ever time. But she could feel the energy draining, and as the days rolled on, one after the other tumbling on, she could see her end was near. She spun wildly, never letting her heels touch the floor, frame to frame of her childhood full length mirror, performing for the little girl who watched silently with large eyes. The ballerina called out to the child, but the little dark haired child couldn't hear her. As the day came, the ballerina cried tears of blood, the pain becoming far more servre than unbearable. Her bloody foot prints were all that were left in the reflection, the ballerina never to be seen again by the little girl.
(ok this post was really short i know, and it was getting kind of dark, so i wrapped it up fast)
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