Thunderous applause filled the theatre and Bella Noturn curtsied gracefully. The curtains closed like syrup moving down pancakes, her smile carved into her face. Murmurs and footsteps faded away like leaves falling from a dying tree. She limped backstage and was immediately fussed over. She closed her eyes and let it all rush over her. Someone worrying about her costumes, some passing her makeup remover, some undoing her hair. She was the eye of a hurricane.
At long last she was out of her skin tight costume and ballet shoes, once again she was in her baggy hoodie and trusty, musty, crusty sneakers. She slipped out of the theatre through its backstage door. Leaning against the dirty, vandalised wall in the lightless alleyway, she hastily pulled out her pack of cigarettes and lighter. All night, the only thing that was on her mind was the bitter taste of nicotine and its suffocating smoke. She flicked open the lighter, the only colourful thing in the alley, a warm flame amidst the freezing cold. She stared at the lighter.
The lighter was like a dancer. Its flames danced on top of the fume, leaping gracefully up and down and sideways. She wished she was the lighter instead, maybe then she would never extinguish.
“Are you going to light that cigarette or?” A voice startled her out of her reverie. No one ever came to the alleyway, she had marked her territory long ago and now someone had breached it. She straightened up and shook a cigarette out of the pack, cupping the precious flame, and a thin, fragile trace of smoke eased out. She glanced at the voice, a lanky man, as lean as her and just slightly taller. She did not recognise him.
Her cigarette burned down to the filter and she had only taken two drags. She took another cigarette out. She could not tell if the smoke was from the cigarette or condensation. After a while, she allowed the filthy wall to hold her weight again; slouching, not caring about her posture. He seemed just as content with the silence as she was, comfortable just leaning against the dirty wall with another stranger.
She was on her third cigarette. She wondered when she had become so used to the alleyway that a person could appear without her noticing. She ignored the fact that she let this stranger intrude her space. Not like he was doing anything in particular, he was just standing a few feet away, staring into nothingness.
Another stray, another lost soul.
At this rate she would have to buy another pack of cigarettes, so she threw the third one away as she did the previous two and did not bother to stomp on it. Without another glance at the stranger who is like an early bus, a pleasant enough surprise, Bella started to walk away.
“Have you had any strange dreams lately?”
She halted and turned her head towards him. Like in a dream, his features were blurry and coated by darkness. Yet, she knew he was looking right at her.
“No,” Her dreams came alive and died as soon as she went on the stage. She did not have dreams anymore.
“Dreams are such weird things are they not? What are human beings without dreams, without guidance from the higher beings or gods.” He sounded amused. Bella found nothing amusing about this conversation.
“Dreams and nightmares. Nightmares and dreams. Who can ever differentiate them?” He continued on when she did not answer him. He stood up straight, he was way taller than he had appeared to be. “In another lifetime.” He said with a tiny wave, like a soldier saluting to his family before he sacrificed himself for his country, he left her alleyway without another glance or whisper.
She stood there for a moment, and for a split second, like when she was in the middle of a grand jeté, suspended in the air with her legs stretching to their limits. And then she landed on the ground again and he had faded into the streetlights before she could speak. Blinking, she put one foot ahead of another and began her journey back home.
Home is a four letter word and when deconstructed it meant nothing. She threw her keys and new packs of cigarettes down then headed straight for her bedroom. She lay on her king size bed that had mountains of pillows and willed sleep to suffocate her. Of course it did not, not like she wanted tomorrow to come.Tomorrow would be the same as today and yesterday and the day before yesterday and the day after tomorrow. Another performance of the nutcracker, then another city, another country, and another routine. Everything changes except for her solitude, or another fancy word for loneliness.
She closed her eyes but her mind would not rest. There was something about the stranger, maybe it was his build, maybe it was the way he spoke, maybe it was how two exhausted souls were resting on each other, maybe it was just because she had not actually, properly conversed with another person in such a long time. Her hands itched for a cigarette. Her heart echoed. Her feet ached. Her mind spun and danced like she was still on the stage, unable to stop; forever hanging in the air, or plummeting into the ground. Thunderous applause filled the room and Bella opened her eyes.
CLICK HERE TO DONATE TO OUR CROWDFUNDER
HELP US BECOME STRONGER SO THAT WE CAN CONTINUE TO DELIVER POWERFUL CITIZEN JOURNALISM!
