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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1957191
Rated: 13+ · Prose · Arts · #1957191
This goes out to an awesome friend of mine.
The man gripped a chunk of chalk and began to drag it across the pavement. It crumbled apart as purple lines oozed out, forming a large square on the asphalt. The music girl plugged in long, snaking speaker cables into her iPhone dock. As she searched through her library, the man with the chalk dropped it and stood in the box he created. He rolled his head around, stretching his shoulder and neck muscles. The music girl gave him a thumbs up. He gave a slight nod and dropped his head. At the sound of the first note he began to dance. A girl with long, streaked brown hair watched from across the street. She was slender in figure and her tight clothes revealed well-toned, athletic muscles. Anybody could tell based on her body language, even just the way she stood silently on the sidewalk, that her physicality was on permanent display. Each blast and drop of the bass caused her heart to beat with a rhythm so intense, she knew she wouldn't be able to hold back. She clutched the strap of her gym bag a bit tighter. Her eyes were fixated on the guy's every move. She noticed something off about the way he danced. She could tell by the pattern of scratches on his Nikes, that he was all style over substance. She scoffed under her breath, and marched towards the music girl. An audience of bystanders also wandered into the fray. They seemed impressed, as they could hardly contain their gasps and applause. She could feel the raw emotion and curiosity as she turned to stare them down. The girl knew they hadn't even begun to be impressed. She approached the music girl and whispered into her ear. They looked at each other and nodded. The music girl got the next song ready. The challenger walked behind the gigantic speaker and opened her bag. She wasn't shy about getting dressed in front of a crowd. She hid because she knew she would distract, and she wanted to make sure people kept their eyes on the lack of talent currently "dancing". Out of her bag flowed a long, bright blue sweatshirt. She draped it over head, onto her neck as she reached in for bottoms. They were white and made of a slightly stretchy material. The fabric was undeniably soft on her ultra sensitive skin, giving her a feeling of nakedness. She would need to feel as free as possible while she danced. She rolled them up her legs and continued to pull the shirt over her tank top. She looked down at her feet, checking if her laces were tight enough. She pulled her large pink socks up over the cuffs of her pants. The girl began to stretch out her long, sinewy legs. Her senses were so attuned, she actually heard the fabric of her leggings pop and snap as some of the small fibrous connections were broken. The crowd was now significant, with all types of people huddled closely around the chalk outline. She knew that in about thirty seconds, perfection would be spilled onto that pavement, in a dizzying display of sound and motion. Her forehead was wet, probably because of the adrenaline injecting into her bloodstream. She attempted to wick the sweat away, but it just replenished itself. Ten more seconds. She probably shouldn't shame this dude too badly, after all she was a professional, and he simply wasn't. Five seconds. If he was going to dance publicly, he'd better be ready for a challenge. She closed her eyes and waited for the music girl to call her. She did. He walked off in exhaustion. He looked at her. She smiled and blew him a mocking kiss. In an explosion of determination, she ran out and began. She chose a song that would not relent from start to finish. She didn't want to give the audience any time to react. She wanted them speechless. She was a blur of perfectly choreographed motion. Her shoulders blades flexed as her hips shook with violent, yet sensual spasms. She paid no attention to the way her body was stretching and contorting almost to the point of injury. Her heart became a metronome, keeping her in synchronicity with the rhythm of the pounding music. The stomping of her feet onto the hard concrete, echoed through her mind. The audience was dead silent, as they watched a girl dance with such passion and focus. The tape on her hands didn't protect her from the friction of the rough street, as she had started bleeding. She didn't notice. She didn't notice anything. The combination of the blue, white and pink of her outfit was just another visual layer to the performance. During the myriad of spins and pivots, the loose ends of her garments sliced through air. The people up close enough, could feel and hear the wind of her clothes. She was so expertly manipulating the men, women and children on the sidewalk, that when her song ended, nobody realized. They had reached, in some ways, a level of hypnotic entrancement. She just stood there in her pose, still hearing the music even though the track had stopped. Her entire body heaved with each breath.
© Copyright 2013 Marco G. (marcdown at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1957191