Pacing myself through the aperture, the usual chills from the internal and external, I was worried about being worried about what was going to happen.

Don’t think so much. I told myself, it would only lead me to dire straits. As the lights, the familiarly slippery ground, the throng and the five pairs of death stare greeted me, I bowed meekly, accompanied by small rounds of applause.

I have practised, I have innovated, I… cutting off my thoughts as I had taken a deep breath, rubbing my palms together.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

There I went, with the ice beneath the metallic skates which endured gruesome and endless training with me. My left foot took flight majestically, my right foot embraced the beat of my heart, my body flowed with my unconscious self- the icy hidden ballerina. The world was singled out, my everything became me and the fibres of muscles, skedaddled the icy pang with grace.

One, two, three. Skipped a beat. Two, two, three. Anxiety crept into my bones, the cold was penetrating through the thin elastic fabric and my subcutaneous layer. Three… Two more sets of moves till my climax.

Silence. Everything, even time slowed down as I was approaching my epic finale.

The sentient of singularity, of my everything was overflowing. Although it was transient, that particular moment was constructed of many, many complex moves in a combination to make a hallmark, to change, to make history itself.

My left tendon propelled me above the ice rink, I flew in a fluid manner, spinning my body using the centripetal force gained from the push.

…five, six, seven, eight. The tip of my right foot landed even before my thoughts can catch up, resuming the finale, being the black swan of the night. I spun my body swiftly, deftly to give the coup de grace to the eyes of the world.

Letting the magic work itself. I stopped at where I started, steadily. Muted from the world. I saw jaws dropped from around me. Yes. I did it. I made history.


Craving for more? Down below:
What Is Love?
In A Flash
When We Were Young

Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

11 thoughts on “Rink

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