by Bryce Carlson
When I dance, it's as if there is fire beneath my heels and four hundred lost souls of cursed Celtic dancers deep within my tunic. Human life quite literally stands still when the urge comes over me and no one, not even the most enlightened of men, realizes the purgatorial dream into which he's been cast. The others revel in my genuine obsession with the Flamenco but it just so happens that I'm a sucker for the Spanish, whom I proselytize daily to be God's greatest creation. Words cannot explain the lightness that flows through my chubby feet - other than perhaps, dancing on clouds. When I dance, it's as if Hell does not exist and evil is no more. If it weren't for this delightful expressive art, I would but be a lowly cherub left to simply observe the earth rather than create life below my feet.
Bryce Carlson, author of The Last Revelation, recently graduated from Chapman University and now lives as an aspiring screenwriter in Southern California. He also writes film reviews for Real Movie News. He blogs here.