An Artists Collaboration of the Divas Sacred Dance

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LIFE’S BALLET
An Artists Collaboration of the Divas Sacred Dance

inspired by Chavel Edwards
set design by a ballet of artists
score by Renan Javier
written & edited by Kendall F. Person

Ballerina by snatti89

She stood frozen in the darken room. There were others around her, but their presence she could not sense. She thought this is my time but her body felt differently and her heart beat wildly, as if it were trying to explode. Our Ballerina – her name – had dreamed of this night since she was a little girl. She remembered her breathing exercise and inhaled a long, deep breath. But before she could exhale, the room began to brighten, the curtains would start to rise and for our Ballerina – ready or not – it was showtime, and the Divas begin to dance.

starter gun by amuse

Rather He used her as target practice or just had bad aim, was irrelevant once the pellet left its chamber and was on its way. It could not change directions nor stop in midair. No way to warn her or yell “get out of the way!” A guided missile – in miniature – shot passed her friends, and without malice nor glee, lacking intent or ability to imagine the effect, when it hit its target, life’s ballet would begin.

Ballerina

The cadence of the dance was the only sound in her head, but her nerves made her one step off, but one step was all it took. The nine women that shared the stage, were all veterans of the dance, except our Ballerina, who had the skills to be a diva, but not the mental fortitude. Had she stayed in the moment, all would have went well, as her natural talent could have carried her across the stage. But her heart would not slow down and her eyes began to blur, and when she turned around on a pirouette of beautiful legs, the nerves would bend then crack, her nightmare come to life – and our beautiful Ballerina… collapsed on center stage.

Chavel Edwards

There was a scream when the pellet shot through, then embedded inside her leg. There was panic and chaos and blood that terrified her closest friends. Still beautiful even now, but a younger version, she was back then, and the site of her collapsing, was the cruelness of life’s ballet.

Loud screams she did emit, lit up the silent sky. At last she did speak, her friends clinging to every word, but as she retold the story, they were not the words anyone expected to hear.

Prima Ballerina by i-am-JENius

The audience did gasp, our Ballerina begin to cry, but the music played on and the ballet continued without her. Storm clouds formed within her head, the end of the world, she truly dread. But two of the veteran dancers, without ever breaking stride, one in front, the other behind, with grace and keeping time, slowly lifted one leg – like swans magically appeared – they arched their backs and in unison they said, “You are a diva in the sacred dance, pick yourself up and make them believe it was a part of the performance.”

“My outfit!” Chavel screamed. My outfit, is it okay?” No concern for the pain, no yells at the shooter or curses to what hit her. She was a star in life’s ballet, and wherever she had to go – the hospital or a ball, the sacred dance of the diva, was to always look like one.

Our Ballerina did rise, then soared across the stage; not just finding their rhythm, but forcing them to dance to hers. With climax now reached, the audience on their feet, cheering them on with shouts of “ENCORE!” And with the curtains falling and the show now closing, and everyone knowing, it was the name of our Ballerina… that would define the sacred dance.

this is…. The Neighborhood 

the story within the story
The Americas ed (no. 72)