They dance around me...

They’re here again.

They dance exquisite, looping rounds of this room. Staying in the shadows, on the edge of sight. They are the scuttles in the night, the rustles as you turn. Sometimes they keep themselves to themselves. Sometimes they crowd around, filling me with longing for such elegance. Today is such a day. Today they are dancing around me as I sit in my corner.

My mind drifts onto another here. Her eyes are so piercing, her gaze so empty of anything, it makes you feel you can see things more clearly. You dread her looking at you as her look cuts through the perfectly crafted illusions, revealing the darkness crowding in on you.

I flinch as another shadow flits across my face.

Shrinking into my corner I realise that merely the thought of her is enough to bring the darkness in something out.

Enough to turn elegant swoops into an intent-filled lunge.

Enough to form tooth filed grins and empty, staring eyes out of patterns.

Grasping hands out of air, I shrink into the corner, slender fingers tugging at my clothes. Hair brushes over my shoulder, I frantically try to brush the feeling away with wild hands. A finger traces its way down my cheek. The gasp dragged into my lungs elicits a sigh, a release of pleasure in response. The shadows close in, I’m at the door.

Pounding, screaming, sobbing.

Footsteps approach from outside and relief flows through me. I renew my efforts, in case they hadn’t heard me. A shadow falls across the little window used to look in at me. A hand reaches up. The window snaps shut. The footsteps recede.

Echoed mockingly behind me are another set of ringing steps.

Coming closer.

I can’t turn, the sobs catch in my throat and come out as a keening. My fists becoming warm, sticky. Each pound leaves a dark mark on the door, each of which attracts a cluster of the shadows. The footsteps slow to a stop behind me, leaving in their place a deafening silence.

A hand, all bones, fastens onto my shoulder.

An arm over my chest, making it harder to breathe.

A head on my other shoulder, absorbing my cries.

I keep trying, scribbling ‘help’ on the door in the dark warm liquid on my hands.

What is it?

The head grows heavier. The arm hugs me tighter against a shadow. Drags me down. I throw my hand up against the door. A last vain attempt.


Its over.

I surrender.

I join the shadow’s dance, leaving shackles of flesh to achieve that elegance.

They dance around me...

Alice Kent

West Mersea, United Kingdom

  • Artist
  • Artwork Comments 11

Artist's Description

A piece inspired by Sarah Moore’s image ‘Help’

This is my first piece of writing I have shown to the outside world (as in other than family/english teachers!) so any comments, constructive criticism, downright insults would be welcome!! :P

Artwork Comments

  • Sarah Moore
  • Alice Kent
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  • Alice Kent
  • Alice Kent
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  • Alice Kent
  • Patricia Anne McCarty-Tamayo
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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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