Pole Dancing

“NO!” Jortek’s voice was stern as he shook his head in disapproval, so unlike the melodic voices of angels in a choir. He must not have been in the choir, Bethany thought sadly to herself.

Bethany winced and dropped her blades to the ground. Her arms ached from thrashing her swords uselessly in the air, missing her target completely. “I can’t! It’s too hard!” she complained, panting breathlessly. Her hair was damp from exertion and matted against her head, salty sweat droplets dripped from her nose.

“Focus on an object, a lamp post, a pole. Use it as your target.” He paced around her, his angel eyes locked on her, giving her no escape. “Practice!”

She sighed heavily and lifted the magical twin blades, holding them ready as he had instructed. She looked over to her teacher, a proud, Righteous angel she had met when she first came to the city. They had become fast friends. He was always ready to advise her in the finer points of combat and defense even though she insisted her aptitude towards that area was pitifully lacking. Her combat lessons were proving this fact very clearly!

She tried again, focusing on her target, this time a sturdy light pole. It was stationary and solid. Shouldn’t be too difficult to miss Jortek had reassured her. She took a deep breath, blinked her wet lashes dry, and dived towards it with a swan’s grace that she was rather impressed with.

Then suddenly, Bethany came to an abrupt halt as her body, head-first, banged into the unforgiving metal standard. Her head swam, and she stared at the pole dumbfounded and dazed. She rubbed her bruised forehead gingerly with the back of her hand and all she could hear ringing in her ears were angel voices singing, “Practice!”