Dancing in the Dark

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They danced to the slow beat of the music with the elegance of a bumblebee moving from flower to flower, leaving soft indents in the rain soaked beach sand. With every feathery step, knives were flung through my chest, piercing the remains of my already decaying soul. Her left side was soaked from the cold rainwater that was missed by the oversized penguins holding umbrellas. His dampened tuxedo was illuminated by the golden sun shining through the breaking clouds showing his true wealth. Despite the bright rays of sunshine, rain poured ferociously from the clouds of heaven causing the strangely calm ocean water to be covered with a layer of static. Shivers ran up and down my spine with each frigid drop that slipped off my shirt collar and onto my neck. The sloping dunes of sand that provided me with a perfect vantage point gave me no protection from the elements. With my best judgement as my guide, I felt as though their dance would last until sunset, when they would move into the creme coloured tent that had been previously set up on the beach, where they would spend their night. Guessing that the sun would not leave the beach in total darkness for about an hour, I decided that I would close my eyes and rest my aching body for the strenuous events that I had planned for the night. I rolled onto my left side in order to block the rays of sun from my face, digging my feet a few inches into the sandy dune for support. Remembering the tools that I had brought with me, I reached up to the small swale in the dune where I had been sitting and wrapped my hand around the cold metal barrel of my shotgun and the hard leather strap of my side-bag. I reeled the items in close to my chest, hugging them as a child holds his teddybear. As I listened to the soft sound of the falling rain land on the compact sand, my mind began to drift into a deep sleep, with the musky smell of gun powder filling my nostrils with every breath, and my right hand clutching the sheathed knife in my bag. Distant memories of the past raced through my mind like shooting stars as my dreams encompassed my body.


After a sweaty palmed, nervous promposal, Sabrina and I quickly fell into an unbreakable love; or so I thought. With news of the war beginning to filter through the country, we fled away together to an abandoned farmhouse in Prince Edward Island, Canada, so that I would not be swept up in the chaos of the draft. The ragged farmhouse required almost 3 months of arduous work, but the final product was exactly what we were looking for. After a small oceanfront wedding, a year later, our beautiful baby girl Alessia was born. She was our pride and joy for the next 5 years as we watched her grow like a sunflower in a well kept garden. Sand castles sprung up like weeds on the red sand behind our home. Her multi-coloured beach ball danced back and forth in the wind like the whirlybird seeds of a maple tree. Her smile seemed to light up the world on nights when clouds concealed the starry skies. As the cold Atlantic winds gave birth to a bitter winter season, Alessia’s health began to change for the worse. Her deep cough echoed through the wooden walls of our home and her brittle body lost strength with each breath. Life eventually escaped her body while she slept. This brought peace to my wife, Sabrina, as it meant that her little baby did not have to suffer any longer. Ignoring my wife’s grins of relief, I was distraught in Alessia’s death. I felt as though a part of my heart had been ripped out of my body and locked away in an unbreakable chest. I became quiet and reserved; rarely speaking unless Sabrina was intent on hearing my voice. I would often retreat to the area of the beach where Alessia’s civilization of sand castles once thrived like a colony of ants in a lush forest. I spent countless hours staring out towards the bland area of the horizon where the ocean water met the equally blue sky, unaware of my surroundings. This was my mistake; I had not noticed that Sabrina had become increasingly upset with my humdrum personality, and that she was seeking other forms of pleasure. I was no longer the person that she fell in love with back in high school in our small New England town. Sitting on my bright orange and pink beach chair, I could hear Sabrina’s voice, occasionally erupting in laughter that I had not heard for many years. Accompanying her’s was another, much deeper voice coming from a middle aged man leaning against the open door of his all black Cadillac limousine. Their barely audible conversation ended with the sound of a car door shutting.


I awoke quickly to a distinct noise that registered a feeling of anger in my already anxious stomach. Thinking that the noise had occurred within my subconscious, I disregarded the sound and lifted my head just as a long black vehicle started its engine and began to roll down the dirt road that led towards town. The sun had set and I knew that the time had come for me to initiate the plan that I had been organizing for weeks. I grabbed my shotgun and bag and headed towards the illuminated shape near the waters edge. Bright stars blanketed the night sky which was no longer filled with storm clouds. With the wind coming in off the ocean much stronger then before, breaking waves masked any sound of my footsteps on the hard sand. I moved toward the now recognizable tent and crouched beside its entrance, carefully listening for any movement within the structure. The slow breathing of two individuals could be heard in unison, making it clear the they were both enjoying a calm, restful sleep. Loading my shotgun, I peeked into the candle lit tent and saw Sabrina’s wavy blonde hair draped over the arm of a muscular middle-aged man. I took two crouched steps into the tent and quickly wrapped my left arm around Sabrina’s head, covering her mouth. I dragged her out of the tent and threw her waking body on the beach. Peeking back into the tent, I took a lengthy glance at the oblivious man lying undisturbed, still basking in the happiness of his dreams. With a quick flick of my wrist I fired a single bullet out of my gun and into his rising chest. I stayed just long enough to watch his ruby blood ooze onto his nicely pressed silk shirt. I turned around to see my wife’s drowsy, confused, and frightened face. I grabbed her by the shoulders, lifted her onto her feet, and yelled, staring into her sorrow filled eyes. “How could you do this to me?” I screamed in a vicious tone, “What about our daughter? Our past? Our future?” The final words spilled from my mouth, releasing any emotion that was left in my body. She failed to respond with words, only displaying a look of fear that ran deep through her veins. I was disgusted with her presence; a person that once brought me more joy then I can explain now only provided me with a bitter taste of disgust. I reached into the middle pocket of my bag and grabbed the hunting knife, removing the leather sheath in one smooth motion. Without thought, I jabbed the sharp blade into her abdomen, sliding it through the muscles beneath her skin with great ease. She produced a sound that was more then satisfying to my ears as I removed the knife. She writhed and squirmed on the sandy beach, causing blood to pool around her dying body. Thousands of thoughts rushed through my head as I realized the seriousness of my actions. Tears began to stream down my face as I stumbled towards the edge of the salty water. I waded in until my knees were well under the surface and collapsed under the weight of my tired body. I fell forward, my face crashing onto the soft ocean floor. I held my breath until my lungs screamed like a young girl for her mother. The screams began to grow louder and louder, memories flashing through my head faster and faster...until they stopped. The screaming diminished slowly until only one voice was left in my head, Alessia’s. And with that, a single memory entered my mind.


There she stood; tall and beautiful, floating like an angel above all else. She turned around to reveal Alessia, curled in her arms, wiping the tears from underneath her tired eyes. The memory vanished with a blinding light and the deafening sound of a thousand screams.





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JoPepper said...
Feb. 25, 2012 at 7:52 pm
The beginning was a little confusing i didn't really get the penguins holding the umbrella's the dance or the knives flung at him.  But after that the story was very good!!!
 
golferkid replied...
Feb. 26, 2012 at 8:16 am
The "knives were flung through my chest" part was a metaphor; each step hurt him inside. The penguins part is somewhat random unless you were in my Writer's Craft class, haha. Basically, our assignment was to pick a painting and create a story revolving around the painting. Essentially, there were a man and woman dancing on a beach in the rain and a butler dressed in full tuxedo (resembling a penguin) was holding an umbrella for them. I think I used 'penguin' instead of just calling him a butler... (more »)
 
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