The Dance Of Doom
By Skye
Prologue
Hello, it’s me, Zahara. My name means radiance. And yes, I’m beautiful. I am radiant. I’m about to tell you the story of how me and my sisters became such good and terrible (both at the same time) dancers. We danced the night away. We danced our hearts out: literally. It was amazing. And horrifying. And sickening. All at the same time. And you know what? I used to have many, many more sisters. But let’s just say they weren’t as good dancers as us, and as punishment? They were killed.
Hi, my name is Zaida. My name means: to raise. I’m not sure what that means, though. My sisters and I are going to tell you a terrible tale, which is, I’’m afraid, real life. It happened to us. We experienced it. Every terrible thing that cruel man said to us, every drop of blood he drew from us. Oops, I said too much.
Okay, my name is Zaklina, which means support. So yeah, I support myself and my sisters to get through this rough time. To get through this part in life where everyone hates us. Where we are getting killed, slowly, but steadily. We have to be so graceful when we dance, or there is a punishment. And that punishment is our life.
My name is Zan. I can’t talk for long, I’ll need to keep dancing, I don’t want to be his victim for today, no way. I want to live to see my thirteenth birthday. I have to keep leaping and twirling and jumping and dancing. Because I really really don’t want to die right now, if you know what I mean. Oh, my name means: providing support. My twin sister is Zaklina and she is pretty but I’m a tomboy. And what my name and her name means: support. And that’s true, because we support us and our sisters through dancing.
Ow! I fell when I was dancing last night and I got a big bruise and now it hurts. SO MUCH! My name is Zandra. My mother wanted to name me Sandra, which means: protector of men. Because she wanted me to be tough, but dad wanted us to all be named with the letter Z. So instead of being a Tough Sandra, I’m a shy, weak, Zandra. I’m the shyest of my sisters, and I don’t do sports like the others, well, I do dance. I mean, we have to. The name Zandra means: protector of humanity. Which is not true at all.
Hola mis amigos. My name is Zanna. The name Zanna means: lily. Because my father liked the name Lily, but he wanted to name us all with Z’s. I’m studying the Spanish culture and language, so don’t mind me if I start babbling in Spanish at the wrong times. I also have freckles, I hat them! They’re so ugly! Creo que mis pecas hacen que parece estúpida. Son tan molesto! Oops, sorry. I meant to say: I think that my freckles make me look stupid! They’re so annoying!
Hi, my name is Zara. Rhymes with… oh! I can’t think of any good rhymes! Sorry, I’m a poet. I talk in rhymes sometimes. It’s really addicting once you start doing it! But I can’t think of a good poem to write about myself. The name Zara means: Radiant. Just like Zahara, who is my twin. Sorry, we have a lot of twins in this family. Me and Zahara. Zan and Zaklina. We’re twins. But I had to stop writing poems, and start dancing. I really didn’t want to, but I was forced to. It’s really quite sad. It makes me so mad. Oh yeaaaaah!
Greetings, my fellow readers. The name is Zenaida. Zenaida means: Of Good zeus, ma’am and sir. I’m all about talking properly, madams and lords and sirs. Oh yes, would you like any tea, my good man? Oh, the lords and ladies! They’re here! Gentleman, start the orchestra! Oh, sometimes I get a little carried away… Anyway, my name is Zenaida. Oh, wait, did I tell you that already? Sorry, I’m a little forgetful sometimes. But at least I’ve never forgotten how to dance! Not that I’m able to, or anything.
Zillah, that’s the name. That means: Like A Shadow. I think that's really cool, I mean, who else get’s to be named Shadow? I think it’s pretty awesome. But shadow’s do not dance, do they? I didn’t think so. But me? I have to dance. Every single night. Every. Single. Night.
Hi, Ziba is my name. Ziba means: gorgeous. And why yes I am. I am gorgeous. The most gorgeousest of my sisters - if that’s even a word… well, let me get one thing straight. I AM GORGEOUS! You got that? You hear me, mister? You hear me, lady? All right, then. I dance. Gorgeously. I dance gorgeously. Okay? Okay.
Chapter One
My name is Zahara, and I’m going to tell you about the night we became slaves. The night we became dancers. The night we became slaves to the art of dance. Let’s whirl ourselves back in time. In time where we danced the night away. Literally.
“Daa - aad! Can’t we get new shoes! I mean, I only have about…. Thirty pairs? Pleeease?!” Ziba drawled to our dad.
Daddy sighed. “Ziba honey, I told you. We are not getting any more shoes. You said you have about thirty pairs? That’s enough shoes for you girls.”
“I agree,” I said. “We could also donate some of our shoes to charity. I’d say if we each donated ten pairs of shoes, we’de be donating…” I gasped.
“One hundred pairs of shoes!” my twin, Zara, finished my sentence. “Oh my gosh! One hundred pairs of shoes for one hundred needy people! That’s so cool!”
Daddy smiled. “What a great idea! One hundred people getting new, fancy shoes. That you girls have probably only worn once!”
Zaklina hesitated. “But I like all my shoes!” she whined.
“But do you really need all of them?” Zillah smirked. As usual, she had sneaked up on us, like a shadow. Like her name, it means: like a shadow.
“Yes!” Zaklina stamped her diamond stud clad foot.
I rolled my eyes at her. Like she needed thirty pairs of shoes! Yeah right!
Just then, Zanna walked in. “¡Hola tios! ¿De qué estás hablando?” she asked in Spanish, which nine of us understood.
“Huh?” Zara asked, not understanding a word that Zanna was saying.
“Oh, lo siento,” Zanna apologized. “Did I talk in Spanish, again?”
Daddy smiled. “Yes, dear. Now what was it you were saying? In english, please,”
Zanna blushed scarlet. “Sorry, daddy. I’ll try to remember more often. But this is what I said; hi, guys! What are you doing?”
“Oh, well, we’re just talking about how I need some more shoes,” Zaklina lied. “And daddy said yes.”
Daddy raised an eyebrow. “I did? When?” he asked playfully.
I cleared my throat to signal I wanted to have a part in this conversation also.
“Yes, Zahara?” Daddy looked at me. “What is it that you need to say?”
“Zanna, what we were really talking about -” I paused and looked knowingly at Zaklina. “Is that we could each possibly donate ten pairs of our shoes to charity. Because we all know that we have way too many shoes,” I explained.
“That’s a nice idea. Who thought of -”
A loud crash interrupted Zanna. Then a shriek. Daddy rushed out of the room to see what had happened. We could hear Ziba talking loudly.
“Daddy! My dress is ruined!” she yelled. “Do you see that, daddy? Do you? But I’m still the gorgeousest, right, daddy? Right?”
Daddy sighed and walked back into the room where we were. I was anxious to know what happened, when Ziba ran in. “Daddy! My dress! Look at it! It ripped!” she screamed hysterically.
“What a drama queen,” Zillah whispered to me. I silently agreed.
Ziba looked up and glared at Zillah. “What was that you said?” she hissed.
“I was just telling Zahara that I liked her dress, geez,” Zillah wrinkled her nose in fake disgust. “Why do you always have to suspect someone’s talking about you, Ziba?!”
I stifled a laugh, I didn’t want Ziba even more mad at us. Because when she gets mad, she gets really mad!
“Serves her right, she’s such a diva,” Zillah scoffed as Ziba flounced away.
“Even when you are really talking trash about her,” I giggled.
Hello, it’s me, Zahara. My name means radiance. And yes, I’m beautiful. I am radiant. I’m about to tell you the story of how me and my sisters became such good and terrible (both at the same time) dancers. We danced the night away. We danced our hearts out: literally. It was amazing. And horrifying. And sickening. All at the same time. And you know what? I used to have many, many more sisters. But let’s just say they weren’t as good dancers as us, and as punishment? They were killed.
Hi, my name is Zaida. My name means: to raise. I’m not sure what that means, though. My sisters and I are going to tell you a terrible tale, which is, I’’m afraid, real life. It happened to us. We experienced it. Every terrible thing that cruel man said to us, every drop of blood he drew from us. Oops, I said too much.
Okay, my name is Zaklina, which means support. So yeah, I support myself and my sisters to get through this rough time. To get through this part in life where everyone hates us. Where we are getting killed, slowly, but steadily. We have to be so graceful when we dance, or there is a punishment. And that punishment is our life.
My name is Zan. I can’t talk for long, I’ll need to keep dancing, I don’t want to be his victim for today, no way. I want to live to see my thirteenth birthday. I have to keep leaping and twirling and jumping and dancing. Because I really really don’t want to die right now, if you know what I mean. Oh, my name means: providing support. My twin sister is Zaklina and she is pretty but I’m a tomboy. And what my name and her name means: support. And that’s true, because we support us and our sisters through dancing.
Ow! I fell when I was dancing last night and I got a big bruise and now it hurts. SO MUCH! My name is Zandra. My mother wanted to name me Sandra, which means: protector of men. Because she wanted me to be tough, but dad wanted us to all be named with the letter Z. So instead of being a Tough Sandra, I’m a shy, weak, Zandra. I’m the shyest of my sisters, and I don’t do sports like the others, well, I do dance. I mean, we have to. The name Zandra means: protector of humanity. Which is not true at all.
Hola mis amigos. My name is Zanna. The name Zanna means: lily. Because my father liked the name Lily, but he wanted to name us all with Z’s. I’m studying the Spanish culture and language, so don’t mind me if I start babbling in Spanish at the wrong times. I also have freckles, I hat them! They’re so ugly! Creo que mis pecas hacen que parece estúpida. Son tan molesto! Oops, sorry. I meant to say: I think that my freckles make me look stupid! They’re so annoying!
Hi, my name is Zara. Rhymes with… oh! I can’t think of any good rhymes! Sorry, I’m a poet. I talk in rhymes sometimes. It’s really addicting once you start doing it! But I can’t think of a good poem to write about myself. The name Zara means: Radiant. Just like Zahara, who is my twin. Sorry, we have a lot of twins in this family. Me and Zahara. Zan and Zaklina. We’re twins. But I had to stop writing poems, and start dancing. I really didn’t want to, but I was forced to. It’s really quite sad. It makes me so mad. Oh yeaaaaah!
Greetings, my fellow readers. The name is Zenaida. Zenaida means: Of Good zeus, ma’am and sir. I’m all about talking properly, madams and lords and sirs. Oh yes, would you like any tea, my good man? Oh, the lords and ladies! They’re here! Gentleman, start the orchestra! Oh, sometimes I get a little carried away… Anyway, my name is Zenaida. Oh, wait, did I tell you that already? Sorry, I’m a little forgetful sometimes. But at least I’ve never forgotten how to dance! Not that I’m able to, or anything.
Zillah, that’s the name. That means: Like A Shadow. I think that's really cool, I mean, who else get’s to be named Shadow? I think it’s pretty awesome. But shadow’s do not dance, do they? I didn’t think so. But me? I have to dance. Every single night. Every. Single. Night.
Hi, Ziba is my name. Ziba means: gorgeous. And why yes I am. I am gorgeous. The most gorgeousest of my sisters - if that’s even a word… well, let me get one thing straight. I AM GORGEOUS! You got that? You hear me, mister? You hear me, lady? All right, then. I dance. Gorgeously. I dance gorgeously. Okay? Okay.
Chapter One
My name is Zahara, and I’m going to tell you about the night we became slaves. The night we became dancers. The night we became slaves to the art of dance. Let’s whirl ourselves back in time. In time where we danced the night away. Literally.
“Daa - aad! Can’t we get new shoes! I mean, I only have about…. Thirty pairs? Pleeease?!” Ziba drawled to our dad.
Daddy sighed. “Ziba honey, I told you. We are not getting any more shoes. You said you have about thirty pairs? That’s enough shoes for you girls.”
“I agree,” I said. “We could also donate some of our shoes to charity. I’d say if we each donated ten pairs of shoes, we’de be donating…” I gasped.
“One hundred pairs of shoes!” my twin, Zara, finished my sentence. “Oh my gosh! One hundred pairs of shoes for one hundred needy people! That’s so cool!”
Daddy smiled. “What a great idea! One hundred people getting new, fancy shoes. That you girls have probably only worn once!”
Zaklina hesitated. “But I like all my shoes!” she whined.
“But do you really need all of them?” Zillah smirked. As usual, she had sneaked up on us, like a shadow. Like her name, it means: like a shadow.
“Yes!” Zaklina stamped her diamond stud clad foot.
I rolled my eyes at her. Like she needed thirty pairs of shoes! Yeah right!
Just then, Zanna walked in. “¡Hola tios! ¿De qué estás hablando?” she asked in Spanish, which nine of us understood.
“Huh?” Zara asked, not understanding a word that Zanna was saying.
“Oh, lo siento,” Zanna apologized. “Did I talk in Spanish, again?”
Daddy smiled. “Yes, dear. Now what was it you were saying? In english, please,”
Zanna blushed scarlet. “Sorry, daddy. I’ll try to remember more often. But this is what I said; hi, guys! What are you doing?”
“Oh, well, we’re just talking about how I need some more shoes,” Zaklina lied. “And daddy said yes.”
Daddy raised an eyebrow. “I did? When?” he asked playfully.
I cleared my throat to signal I wanted to have a part in this conversation also.
“Yes, Zahara?” Daddy looked at me. “What is it that you need to say?”
“Zanna, what we were really talking about -” I paused and looked knowingly at Zaklina. “Is that we could each possibly donate ten pairs of our shoes to charity. Because we all know that we have way too many shoes,” I explained.
“That’s a nice idea. Who thought of -”
A loud crash interrupted Zanna. Then a shriek. Daddy rushed out of the room to see what had happened. We could hear Ziba talking loudly.
“Daddy! My dress is ruined!” she yelled. “Do you see that, daddy? Do you? But I’m still the gorgeousest, right, daddy? Right?”
Daddy sighed and walked back into the room where we were. I was anxious to know what happened, when Ziba ran in. “Daddy! My dress! Look at it! It ripped!” she screamed hysterically.
“What a drama queen,” Zillah whispered to me. I silently agreed.
Ziba looked up and glared at Zillah. “What was that you said?” she hissed.
“I was just telling Zahara that I liked her dress, geez,” Zillah wrinkled her nose in fake disgust. “Why do you always have to suspect someone’s talking about you, Ziba?!”
I stifled a laugh, I didn’t want Ziba even more mad at us. Because when she gets mad, she gets really mad!
“Serves her right, she’s such a diva,” Zillah scoffed as Ziba flounced away.
“Even when you are really talking trash about her,” I giggled.