My world: Dark Dance

In the silence of broken glass, she dances. Not to her heart's desire, but to the tune of invisible threads whispering in the darkness. A crown of golden wires and thorns sits on her head, like the crown of a cursed king; her dress is woven of mist and sorrow, and every turn of her fins, sends a deep sigh into the air. Behind her, a huge, horned shadow breathes. Not a monster, but fate itself; its long, black hands, slowly pluck the threads, like a musician in love with his broken instrument. She has her eyes closed. Perhaps to prevent her from seeing, perhaps to believe that this dance is hers. But every leap, every soft landing of his feet on the scorched floor, is a silent cry: "I am alive... even if I am only the size of a doll."