I am the gem of the Bolshoi Ballet. They do not understand this. I am the serpentine woman, ever growing, ever adapting. I lurk in the back. But I notice the eyes on me. Tracking, waiting. Every move is mine. At night, the men will weep as they dream of me. They cannot help themselves. Deceit runs rife through the lips of everyone here. They praise Constantina, as though she is a messiah. Blasphemous fools. I know she is nothing.
We started in the same year. 1967. Changing times, changing world. That is what they say. Constantina remains unchanging. ‘A timeless beauty’,the critics cried! No one writes of me. They do not understand, see? How could one hold down this form with a pen? You must witness me to believe in my existence. The instructors rarely called my name. Impossible to remark on perfection. They chanted for Constantina, faces lighting up as they saw her boring, false grandiose. She thinks that by overdoing every movement she is elegant. The idiots lap it up, I know their institution is corrupt to its core.
So why can I not stop thinking of her? My gaze is stuck to her in rehearsal. Her glamorous outfits fill my mind. Most nights I will watch her as she lays in bed. It is to remind myself she is more vulnerable than I. On the rare nights I allow myself to rest, she infiltrates my dreams. I know it is deliberate. She thinks she can taunt me, but I will not be intimidated by this useless whore.
They believe a ghost haunts the theater. Constantina awakes to find her costumes ripped, her window opened, her mirror shattered. I target the other leads too, so they don’t realise it is only Constantina I want gone. She pretends it doesn’t faze her, but sometimes when I sit outside her door I hear the sobs. I want to take it further. This is why I have been seeing a pharmacist for quite some time. I cannot bring myself to love him, but he is a suitable confidante. He tells me arsenic would be best to use. I believe him.
Tonight, Constantina will finally be forced to see me, think of me. The critics will be able to write of nothing else. My beloved fans will finally see me, front and center. I can’t help but let out a rare smile as I sip my tea backstage. The gem of the Bolshoi Ballet will be lost. Yes, tonight I will take my final breathe onstage.
We started in the same year. 1967. Changing times, changing world. That is what they say. Constantina remains unchanging. ‘A timeless beauty’,the critics cried! No one writes of me. They do not understand, see? How could one hold down this form with a pen? You must witness me to believe in my existence. The instructors rarely called my name. Impossible to remark on perfection. They chanted for Constantina, faces lighting up as they saw her boring, false grandiose. She thinks that by overdoing every movement she is elegant. The idiots lap it up, I know their institution is corrupt to its core.
So why can I not stop thinking of her? My gaze is stuck to her in rehearsal. Her glamorous outfits fill my mind. Most nights I will watch her as she lays in bed. It is to remind myself she is more vulnerable than I. On the rare nights I allow myself to rest, she infiltrates my dreams. I know it is deliberate. She thinks she can taunt me, but I will not be intimidated by this useless whore.
They believe a ghost haunts the theater. Constantina awakes to find her costumes ripped, her window opened, her mirror shattered. I target the other leads too, so they don’t realise it is only Constantina I want gone. She pretends it doesn’t faze her, but sometimes when I sit outside her door I hear the sobs. I want to take it further. This is why I have been seeing a pharmacist for quite some time. I cannot bring myself to love him, but he is a suitable confidante. He tells me arsenic would be best to use. I believe him.
Tonight, Constantina will finally be forced to see me, think of me. The critics will be able to write of nothing else. My beloved fans will finally see me, front and center. I can’t help but let out a rare smile as I sip my tea backstage. The gem of the Bolshoi Ballet will be lost. Yes, tonight I will take my final breathe onstage.
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.