Spin

By NationChild

Created on January 14th, 2007

A/N: This piece of writing is dedicated to Candice and Mirella, who lent me a shoulder to cry on, humour when I was depressed, and a slap when I needed a reality check. Thanks, guys.

Lilly listened politely, her head moving from her parents to her grandparents, occasionally opening her mouth to argue or agree with something, then, thinking better of it, closing her mouth again. On and on her relatives went, introducing new topics and rebutting old ones. What they were talking about, Lilly didn’t know, but the word, “referendum,” was used an awful lot in the conversation.

Becoming bored, Lilly’s eyes began to wander around the room

She was at a building site. Her grandparents wanted a nice place to live in during their retired lives. Sticks of plywood lay innocuously about, fiberglass insulation scattered around, and a portable stereo blared classical music softly in the background.

Down the steps Lilly went, entering a large room whose only light was bright, yet covering little area. Downstairs, it was nearly dead silent, save for the voices on the next floor. Somewhat in the center of the room, large pieces of sanded wood rested on two pairs of sawhorses. Besides many other miscellaneous things, down the length of the room were two poles, supporting the entire building structure.

A small figure stood straight on their toes, a pole in the crook of her elbow. From an onlooker’s point of view, it would have simply looked like a little girl standing, breathing slowly.

Then, she started to spin. Round and round she went, her feet tangling and untangling themselves as her movements tore and ripped at the long pole, still clutched, moving from arm to hand and back to arm again. Her sneakers initiated complicated rhythms, tapping and scratching and scraping against the floor, making only a small yet audible tsk-tsk-tsk sound.

In her head she heard music, soothing music, rough music, depressing music, many types as she danced and twirled around the pole. Once in a while, she would stop to catch her breath and attempt to keep her world from spinning all the way round, like a washing machine.

Then she’d start spinning again, her shadow on the wall swirling with craziness, yet her lunacy being serene.