An original tale of mine. – David England

Once upon a time, there was a girl who loved to dance.

All admired her dancing. So, she danced to be admired.

One day, as she danced, she lost her feet. She fell to the ground. When she rose, her movements were clumsy, without grace.

She looked down. She saw she had really lost her feet. She saw her knees and calves, but no feet.

Without feet the girl could no longer dance. She was no longer admired. She felt unseen.

She hid herself in the forest. The gloom of the forest reflected her mood; the heavy boughs the sorrow in her heart.

One day, she was captivated by a harebell.

She lost herself in its pliant dance in the gentle morning breeze.
She lost herself in the still dance of the hovering kestrel. The swift dance of the swallow.
She lost herself in the slow dance of old oaks. The solemn swaying of beech.
She lost herself in the scurrying dance of beetles in rotting timber. The intent dance of ants.
She lost herself in the shy dance of the graceful fallow deer.
She lost herself in the predatory circle dance of wolves.

One day, she found her feet. She began to dance. In the dance she found herself:

She found the dance of harebell and bluebell.
She found the dance of kestrel and swallow.
She found the dance of oak and beech.
She found the dance of beetle and ant.
She found the desperate dance of fallow deer and wolf.

Returning, she danced the wild dance of the forest. The wild life of the forest.

The woman who loves to dance.

This is one of my original stories, written to be told with dance and music.

© David England, 2003