I found a trace of my parents! I feel as if I could die from the joy, but at the
same time, I am afraid.

I was travelling thru Quebec., exploring and searching. While there I met
a man who resided there. I saw an item sitting on his mantle while we
spoke, it drew my eye immediately.

I smiled sweetly at him, gave him a quick wink as I tilted my head and
pretended innocent, asking him where he had found such a beautiful
item. He was quickly willing to tell me how he had come to own the
item as I batted my eyes and crossed my legs, leaning forward to
listen intently.

He told me of a man cloaked in shadows who had passed thru the
town but a few weeks ago. How this man had heard of his fondness
for figurines and had one to show him. It was a beautiful colored glass
figurine of a gypsy, poised in the dance. Her arms in the air as ribbons
wrapped around her body. He had fallen in love with the dancer, as
the ribbons cascaded down and around her body. It had caught and
drawn his eye and he could not get it out of his mind. He told me
how he bartered with the man for hours until he finally found a
price the man would part with the figurine for. He said how
he could not pass up owning the dancer no matter what. I nodded
and told him I understood..and I did. For my father had said
the same things when he brought it home for my mother.

For another smile he began telling me all he knew of the man
who had sold it to him. He described him in great detail and
depth. He told me how the man had described to him the pains
he had gone thru to obtain the figurine. How he had commissioned
the piece from a glassmaker, and how he had paid dearly for it.
All semi lies of course. He had never commissioned it, he had
stolen it from my family. My father was the one who had gone
to great lengths to commission the figure. My father had bartered
and begged with the man for weeks in order to have the artist
create this masterpiece.

My father had brought it home, as an anniversary gift for my
mother. I still remember the tears in her eyes as she gazed
at the figurine, wrapped in colored cloth to protect it during
the journey home. I still remember the care she took as she
placed it on the mantle above the fire place. How she sat
and stared at it for hours on end while my father was gone.
I remember her dancing in the firelight mimicing the pose
captured for eternity in crystal. Her eyes would close as
her arms raised slowly in the air. Very slowly she would
begin to spin and twirl, dipping her body this way and that
until she mimic'd the pose perfectly in the firelight. I close
my eyes and I see the look if peace and joy on her face as
she felt the passion of the dance over take her, the love
of my father flow thru her at the thought of the love and
care he showed in obtaining that item for her. She would
spin and twirl faster, until she disappeared in a swirl of
colors that was her skirt. Then she would come to a stop
and very slowly the color would fall away and she would
be left standing there, her face glowing in joy and a soft
smile of rememberance across her lips.

As I snapped back into the now, I smiled at all the right
places. Nodded when he wanted. Batted my eyes when
he looked at me. Then rising slowly I bid him a good
night, as it was time for me to go. He did not look pleased
at my leaving, but I walked out of the house. I returned
later that night, after he had retired to his bed. I snuck
into the house and reached for the small dancer. Carefully
cradling it in my arms I returned the figurine to it's rightful
owner..ME! He never even knew I was there, or what
happened.

Just one small piece of my family, of my past. The first
I have seen since that horrid cold night spent in darkness.
Just one small piece, but a piece still of my mother who
danced in the firelight. Of my father who smiled as he
watched her dance, who lived to see that smile on her
face. One small piece of a little girls childhood, a piece
of her memory which is all she has left at this time. It
gives me a memory to hold onto in the darkness, but
at the same time a fear and stab of pain, for my mother
would never have parted with this dancer willingly. It
scares me at the thought of how she came to be parted
with it..while giving me hope to see her again.

And it all ends here 4 comments

4 Comments:

that's the past babe, let's make the future *wink*

By  M.S, at June 4, 2007 at 7:54 PM  

Hey, kid, no one wants to see that much chemical T from someone that hasn't even finished secondary school.

Lay off for a few more years, no? *smirk*

By  Nadia Ravenswick, at June 5, 2007 at 7:55 PM  

school? School are for people who give a damn

By  M.S, at June 5, 2007 at 11:07 PM  

Christ, it must be related to Samael...

By  Zillah, at June 29, 2007 at 7:06 AM  

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