I have danced for so long that by this point, I am nothing more than a puppet of my own dance. An endless ballet with no recognition, except from her: Mother.
I keep dancing.
I have danced so long that I’ve forgotten when it all began. My fluid movements and agile, graceful pirouettes feel heavier each time. I’m exhausted; I wish I could stop dancing, but the fear of what Mother might do terrifies me, and my body only reacts with another spin.
I keep dancing, and nothing but dancing. My feet move over the old floorboards, ignoring the dirt. Everything hurts, and I no longer feel my body, only the pain of this hell. The music keeps playing, which means I’m doing well. Mother is watching, she seems to be enjoying it. Her features remain as indescribable as when she arrived; the red of her face and that vacant stare said many things. At least a smile seemed to form, or so my mind tells me. On Mother’s face, the one without skin, where her flesh pulses against the cold air, I can only see her uneven teeth, grinding against each other. She is watching me. She is smiling.
I will be free.
That emotion keeps me going. It doesn’t matter if I break or destroy myself in the process; it doesn’t matter if my bones are already shattered. Nothing matters, only impressing Mother.
I move with greater fervor, ready for my freedom. My feet float, moving gracefully through the blood on the ground. I jump and dodge, ignoring the putrid bodies of my companions lying on the floor—those who tried to flee or face Mother when she arrived, those who disappointed her by failing to keep dancing. Mother wasn’t pleased, and she punished them. Their heads rolled across the floor without fear. Heads that lived in horror. Heads that Mother devoured.
My grand finale is approaching. Mother raises all those repulsive tentacles and vestiges of arms to praise my performance and applaud my effort. I will be free; I will finally rest. One last effort, the very last.
Mother, this is for you.
• • •
• • •
• • •
• • •
• • •
Emotion overwhelmed me. I cried with joy as I danced. But I got distracted. I tripped over a severed arm and fell to the floor. A dull thud echoed in the endless void of the stage. Mother’s arms lowered, and her smile vanished. I had disappointed her, despite all my efforts, despite being the last one standing.
Mother rises, her larval form looming over me. I will be punished. Mother is angry. My trembling lips open, and I murmur my final words:
❝Forgive me, Mother. I failed you.❞
