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Author: MaeJima <B> One Last Dance with Father She looked down at her father, and stroked his hair back from his sweaty face. He looked so frail, so old, she couldn't barely stand to look at him. And once again she wished that her magic had worked, that she'd been able to heal him. That someone from the kingdoms would have known what was killing him so she might fight it. But alas, not even the mightiest of Shaman knew what ailed her father.She sighed and leaned down to kiss this once great man's forehead, and whispered, "I love you, father." His eyes opened, startling clear and he smiled at her, his frail, weak smile. "Remember when you used to dance with me?" She flushed, but she grinned, she remembered. She remembered how her father would stand her on his toes and dance with her while her mother played the Piri. How he would swing her up and twirl her around until she was dizzy with laughter. He would wrap his strong arms around her when her mother slowed the music and hold her tight, saying, "Such a beautiful little dancer." She nodded to her father, smiling slightly sadly, "Yes, father, I remember." He tried to nod, his breath wheezing from his throat, and smiled. "I should wish to do that again. To dance with you." She stopped smiling and looked down at her now small and weak father, trying to think of a way to make this dying wish of his come true. She bit her lip as she thought. She was stronger now..bigger. She had grown. She tilted her head as tears filled her eyes and nodded, "Alright, father. We can dance." She stood up and cast upon herself her magic of strength, and took her slippers off, tucking them out of the way under his bed. Carefully she helped her father to sit up in the bed, his frail body bending under the pressure of her hands. She bend in front of him, wrapping his now frail arms around her neck. "Hold on to my neck, father." She felt his arms tighten weakly around her neck, and very gently straightened her body, lifting her father off of the bed. She lifted his feet slightly off of the ground, very quickly tucking hers under them and settling him back down so his feet covered the tops of hers. She stopped a moment, and caught her breath, even as small and frail he was, he was still almost like dead weight. Once she caught her breath, she started humming softly, one of the old songs her mother used to play on the Piri when she was a little girl. Slowly she began to move, swaying from side to side as she held her father to her, as he used to hold her to him. Soon, she was dancing him all over the room, swaying and twirling gently. Moving her feet in time with her own hummed song, she carried her frail father through the dance. She closed her eyes, and in her mind, their positions changed. Her father once again held her, she heard his light laughter and imagined it was his younger, more robust voice. She felt his hands tighten about her neck, and heard him say, "Such a beautiful little dancer!" Tears filled her eyes. As her song slowed and ended, her strength was wearing thin. She gently walked him to the bed, and gently she laid him back down. His face was flushed, his eyes bright. "Dancing heals the soul," he said to her, "Thank you, my child." He reached an old, gnarled hand to touch her face softly. She thought to herself, dancing is love and happiness, and joy. She was glad to have brought this last thing to him, to HAVE this last thing WITH him. She watched as his eyes drifted closed, a slight smile playing across his lips. She watched as her frail fathers breathing evened, then slowed, and then stopped, that slight smile still on his now dead lips. Tears gathered in her eyes, she would greatly miss this man, but she had memories to hold on to, and she loved her father. She would always remember how he would twirl her when she was small, and how she twirled him when he was small, and how he would call her a beautiful little dancer. Dancing would always hold a very special | |