Olga's Monologue

I must say dear sir, you arresting me in these old, rusty chains, surrounding me in your metallic vehicle just adds up to the coldness of this winter even more. I cannot deny that I am still in shock of what you did to me days ago, in a sudden action you grounded me against the floors of my own house. Why did you do it exactly? It was made known to me that I have committed treason, but in what ways that I did? My dear country, my Russia is not whom I recognize. What are the city’s new names again? Petrograd or Leningrad? You make too much of a commotion over a city’s name. You know, no matter how many times you changed its name you could always recognize her, my dear Saint Petersburg. How long has it been since it started? It was about five or six years now. The Tsardom was no more, and somehow this strange creature of a man was already in charge. I do not know what he stands for, all I could remember is a poster of him that says “for the people”. That’s what he claims he is for, yet so many people starving and lying on the streets? Everyone that I have known is suddenly disappearing, I never saw them again. The emperor is dead, and so is his family. What is this country I am living in? This is not the same pavements I walk into towards work. These are not the same people I greet daily.

Now I’m here, chained and cold, headed to my own death on who knows where. I bet my family and friends don’t know I’m headed that way. They might be assuming I have been busy rehearsing and learning new choreography with our ballet-master in the studio right now, or I should’ve been dancing onstage at this very moment. Have you ever danced sir? Even the most traditional dances of our own, have you ever tried it to yourself? I could only assure you now that you could only feel such joy, excitement, relief and freedom when you have done it too. How could one person not dance? It is all but black and white when one has not experienced it alone, or with someone who’s dear to you. I danced, many times. I am a dancer; I was a dancer. Many people say that I was great at the things I do, my face glows with such enthusiasm when I dance. I am a virtuoso, as what they claim. They say that I soar like a bird when I jump, that I was the character they expect me to be when I get onstage. I have loved every moment of it, and missing it dearly. I miss the times I would walk in to the theatre passing by my friends, as we prepare for another piece that we could dance. I miss the humor that brought myself laughing in tears with them. I even miss my rivals onstage, they think that they could just claim every ballet as their own at just one go. They all left the country now, I guess they’re right to leave. I even miss when the teachers shout and yell at me when I miss a note at my dances or misplaced my feet and and my arms. They really do care about me. All the shouting and intimidation was worth every moment, that’s why I was great. I miss the crowd. I miss being the ‘Princess Aurora’ or the ‘Cinderella’ that they see the moment I enter the stage wearing these elaborate costumes. Sometimes I thought that I could just stay onstage so that people would continuously admire me after I dance every night. I miss the thunderous applause that would rattle the whole theatre, where even the most stoic of men cried during the shows. The gorgeous amount of flowers that they gave to me at every curtain call, they all have withered now. All of them I love so much, and missed sincerely.

My mother always told me that I had a thing for dance, she always remembered how I always look on the pretty girls in the posters and imitate their poses when I was a child. She always supported me, she watched me dance with the most valiant of men I have ever known onstage. I made her cry, she was so happy. Even my brother Yuri was happy for me, such an innocent little man. I hope that he savors it while it lasts, everything seems to be a bundle of joy to his eyes. Sometimes I thought what if he could stay that way forever, so that he could never experience all the pain and suffering brought by this world, he doesn’t know how hard it is to seek help to other people since he always has mother by his side. I love him, most ardently. I could not bear to see how they must feel the moment they realized I was already gone. I have no paper nor a pen to write to them. I cannot tell them anymore what will I be dancing next at the theatre so that they could watch me spin around. I cannot answer to their questions anymore whether I’m doing well or that I should lie in bed while ill, nor will I tell if I’m busy at the studio with our maestro. All what we had was suddenly lost, I never meant to cut the bond between us, it was taken from me. There are no more letters that they would receive from me. No more shows that I would dance to them. No more applause, it was all nothing but silence, it’s bitter and cold.

I despise a feeling like this.

Pray tell, when was the last time you cried, you felt happy with the ones most dear to you? Have you ever felt a wave of gladness and relief rushed into you if you had done well in serving what makes them feel joy? I can’t even tell by the look in your eyes what you really feel. Never have I seen how the eyes almost don’t mirror the soul, just a deep and dark stare into the abyss and who knows where it really ends. I feel sorry for you. Tell me, why do you felt the need to put all the things that made you your own self? How does it even benefit you for the better? Has your mother ever told you to love, or did you throw everything she said to you as well? I guess that would be the flaw I could recognize from you. You don’t know how to love, I bet you don’t know how to console your fellow people anymore. All you have is that dirty, old hat with a red star medallion engraved to your uniform and a wooden rifle in your hands. How does that make you feel, to put it all away that made you for the sake of what you now stand for? To whom do you put your service? What made you the “new” man that you are? Does the weapon in your hands define the man solely define the man that you are? How does it benefit you? Do you believe what that bald man says about everyone of us? Are you free, or are you also chained in rusting metal? Do not look at me for frank and straightforward answers, how should I know I only met you for a few days. Perhaps you want to look in the mirror for things to make sense to you? Sometimes people don’t even need a mirror to make it make sense for them.

The snow is so abundant at the farther side of the city. Almost no one lives here except for these critters I see playing in the snow. I have been talking so much that I lost sense of where we are. I assume this is where it all ends for me, in one shot or two if you’re not satisfied.

Your silence continues deafen me. To be honest, for an officer, your patience in this long declamation of mine is impressive and I commend you for that. There are no more leaves in the trees which could give me shade, it will be a long time before they could grow back again in spring. Of course, I will never be able to see it, nor another summer, autumn or winter. I will stay having one of my final memories occurring in winter’s embrace, the whiteness of the snow and its chilling breeze. This forest will be the last thing I’d see before my eyes slowly fade its vision. Somehow the fall of snowflakes this winter is not joyous as it used to be. Somehow the fall of snowflakes this winter is not joyous as it used to be. Did I mention that a long time ago, I once danced the part of a snowflake, fifty of us dancers every Christmastide? Everything’s coming back to me now at this point, all the people that I have met and admired me, the shows I have danced, all of them. I never thought that the people I got to share more about it was you, officers, strangers in my own eyes whom I only met a few days before. You should’ve seen me dance.

I’d better savor these free speeches before your bullets reach me.

I could only wonder now what my beloved country would be in the future as I slowly decompose beneath the ground along with the other bodies piled on each other like rag dolls. I could only say prayers now, for my salvation and my beloved Motherland. My dear Russia do not forget who you really are, do not uproot your self from your foundations, I couldn’t bear to see you rot. May the people still know how to live and love, for what is a soul of a person without it? O Lord, deliver me, I could only give love right now. I say my farewell to my family and my friends. To my dear theatre, I will miss you. If only the costumes that I wore could talk, I should have given them one last hug. To my ballet-masters, thank you for shouting at me. To my rivals, keep on dancing, may the world know of our excellence onstage. To you, dear sir, thank you for listening to me.

Should I at least engage in one, final dance?