No one was on the porch and the door was locked. That was the first and only clue that called to Jasmine, “Turn around and get the hell out of here. Fast!” But Jasmine suffered from attention deficit disorder and barely heard her own thoughts, much less clues from a distant mind. That she was a day and two hours late, and had to pry open a sealed though unlocked window to enter, were symptoms of her other disorder, paranoid schizophrenia. She convinced herself that they were either hiding or left early just so she wouldn’t be a part of their club.
She didn’t really care. She only wanted to see what she had missed so that when it was her time to share, she wouldn’t perform a routine totally off topic. Jasmine was also very low in self-esteem. Although hefty and beautiful, with big hazel eyes, thick lashes, and the smoothest and darkest skin in the club, she nonetheless, felt her brain was her only asset.
Five pillows were in a circle on the living room floor with five people lying on them, sleeping. Jasmine could not believe it. Not only were they hiding from her, they were pretending to be asleep so she would just leave. They even changed the room around and removed her favorite art piece, a haggard stone gray elephant, which looked antique but was made in
in 2002. Taiwan
Anger welled up inside and Jasmine felt she would drown in the ire if she did not do something now. Outwardly calm and silent, inside she stormed and roared as she charged to the center of the circle. She withdrew the prop for her performance, which she had just about perfected.
There was finally no more room inside for the depth of her rage and she erupted in a vocal serenade and twirled with energetic grace. One at a time, each member of the group awoke and sat up. Startled with fear, they could only stare in awe as Jasmine continued her momentous performance, which she entitled, “The Dance of Acceptance or Death.” Feeling she had been rejected by the group, her finale was a swerving of her sword, first in the air, then wider and lower, until the sword sliced through the torsos of the entranced audience. Swirling red liquid sprayed her body in a majestic pattern as she spun.
With a final slash and an arcing of her back, she restrained her sword and impelled it in the center of the mat. At the same time she yelled, “As you have decided, the answer is Death!” Sliding down to one knee, she let the sword fall to her side, and laid down her glistening body. While she allowed herself to gently fall asleep, Jasmine never noticed that her group met a day and two and a half hours earlier and two blocks down. She was also oblivious to the sign on the front door reading, “Relaxation: The Calming Way of Yoga – 12 to 1:00 p.m.”