This is my entry to Scholars & Scribes and DreemPort collab, week 3.
If you want to join, check these posts:
Dreemport, Scholars & Scribe challenge, week 3
About a collaboration on Scholars an Scribe community channell
This is part 3 of 'Ariadne's Tread.
Here you can read first and second part:
| Ariadne's Thread part 1 |
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| Ariadne's Thread part 2 |
His heart was beating so hard that he could almost hear it pounding in his ears. His limbs wriggled in rhythmic strides. Every movement startled him and every movement caused him great pain. The thread that had been his escape had become his curse. He felt the thin strand wrap tightly around his arms, tighten around his knuckles, wound the delicate skin of his neck.
In the darkness he began to see silhouettes in the distance. He didn't know what he was looking at. Everything was still very blurry. He had already stopped believing his senses some time ago. He was suddenly blinded by a beam of light falling on his head. The light was bright and very warm. He pressed his eyelids together, but not for long. Curiosity was stronger than the pain.
The pillar of light was directed centrally at him. He felt the ground beneath his feet again. His arms and legs were now free. Shredded scraps of red thread lay at his feet. He eyed his body carefully - there were no signs of early injuries. There was no dried blood in the creases of his body, no bruises or scabs.
His body was clean and smooth.
But there were thread marks, like old scars.
They cut through his wrists and forearms. He touched his neck – he felt long convex scar under the fingertips. He looked at his ankles, saw long healed, though very deep wounds. He touched his face and after that - examined his hands closely.
He began to turn slowly around his axis. He jumped up, did a pirouette in the air. When he landed gracefully on the ground a sobering sensation came over him....
He didn't understand what was happening to him. He began to gently rotate his wrists, raised his hands above his head, tilted his head back and began to tiptoe, faster and faster. His body took over.
He danced under the warm light of the lantern. His body moved without his participation. Was completely lost in movement of his body.
He looked around - his performance was no longer private. An audience grew up around him. The spectators stretched into infinity, multiplied like in a kaleidoscope. Growing fractals of viewers whispered among themselves covering their mouths. They pointed their fingers at him commenting loudly. He didn't care. Closed his eyes. His movements throbbed with emotion.
It seemed to him that he was beginning to hear music from afar. First the dragged notes of the strings, then the dramatic sounds of the piano. The music reminded him of nothing he knew. The melody was new, fresh.
He imagined himself holding the neck and bow, imagined himself sitting down at the piano and flicking the keys with his fingertips. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a slender figure sitting next to him at the piano. He wrote down the keys in his notebook. He wrote quickly because he was afraid that the ideas would dissolve into silence.
The dream disappeared in the soft light of the lantern.
He danced on. People began to rise from their seats and clap. The ovation began to drown out the music in his head. They were so loud that he stopped hearing his own thoughts. He began to stumble over his own feet. His harmonious movements lost their lightness. His arms began to feel heavy and his motions very clumsy. He felt like his body was made of wood. His joints began to creak and every step became more and more difficult.
-Not yet! I still have so much to do!' - He shouted.
He made one last attempt and jumped up to do another pirouette - and froze in stillness.
The ovation grew louder, more insistent. The audience left their seats to look at the performer. They started to climb on the stage, stepping on each other's hands, squeezing to be the first to reach greatness. Absorbed by his beauty, they began to touch him.
His body was as smooth as glass. Cold as stone.
I hope you all have a lovely day,
Yours,
Strega Azure
Here you will find my reference picture by wonderful artist Olivier Valsecchi that I am currently obsessed about. Here you can find more of his works (mind you, they are mostly nudes!):
| profile of Olivier Valsecchi on Echo Fine Arts |
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| Olivier Valsecchi' Instagram |
