The fog seemed to cling to the stones gritty surface, a cushion for the rocks hard exterior. The sun was playing games with the heavy air, reflecting bits of light off the suspended air droplets making one squint at the spectacle.
I pulled off my red flats, laying them carefully beside the first stone to my right. This area begged ritual, carefulness. Nothing would happen in haste.
I closed my eyes, feeling the fog brush my lashes and cling to the small hairs on my cheeks. My black skirt flowed restlessly, ready and waiting to begin its own performance.
My arms floated upwards, toes pointed and poised. “The Red Shoes” played in my minds eye, hearing each small note at the onset as it slowly increased in resonance, depicting a love of ambition mixed with its tragedy.
I danced for what seemed hours, or maybe it was only a minute. When I opened my eyes, the fog had lifted, the stones surface stark. I breathed in the fresh air as I slowly began to put my shoes on, now ready to begin another beautiful day.
From the weekly writing prompt found here: https://scvincent.com/2020/05/14/thursday-photo-prompt-dance-writephoto/