One Last Dance - By Daniyah Asfa

Written By: daniyah asfa

Category: Short Story

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Daniyah Asfa invites readers into a poignant realm with her short story, "One Last Dance," featured in the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Asfa takes us on an emotional journey, exploring themes of hope, dreams, and acceptance in the face of a life-threatening illness. This competition showcases diverse talents from across the globe, offering writers a platform to express their unique voices and stories.

About the Work

"One Last Dance" weaves a narrative of introspection and longing, with a protagonist whose life is profoundly impacted by illness. Asfa skillfully portrays the struggle between despair and hope, capturing the delicate balance of life with vivid imagery and emotional depth. The story's ethereal quality and its exploration of life's fleeting nature leave a lasting impact on readers.

One Last Dance

Original Submission by daniyah asfa

One Last Dance

Even at two in the morning, the city buzzes with life beneath my dangling feet. Cars glide through empty roads, eager to get home. People stroll along the sidewalk, their strides lacking the usual rush you’d see in day commuters rushing to work or school. The city never sleeps— it only waits to wake.

This is why I visit the hospital rooftop. In the dead of night, all I hear in my room is the beeping of medical equipment and the rustling of my bed sheets that seem too loud within the white walls. I have to be outside, where I can hear life and be reminded that the world still turns. Somewhere outside these walls, a tired student is pulling an all-nighter studying for a test. An employee is driving home, fantasising of their bed after a long day at the office. Parents are fussing over their newborn that has trouble sleeping through the night. Lovers are having late-night talks before falling into each other’s embrace under shared sheets.

There are people who go through their day without a doubt in their mind that there will be a tomorrow, a luxury most of them don’t know they have.

I wasn’t aware of it myself, back when I spent my nights dancing in my studio, before the cancer in my lungs became my sole defining trait. If I’d known my life was going to be cut short, I’d have spent more of those nights with my family, with my friends, with the people who now look at me with nothing but pity and grief for someone they haven’t even lost yet. But it’s only a matter of time.

I’m doing them a favour, I think, by saving them the excruciating wait. Yet I’ve been sitting on this ledge for about ten minutes now, and I can’t seem to take the leap. A small, stubborn part of me wants to hope against the odds. Maybe I’ll survive the cancer, no matter how much of my body it has already taken. Maybe I’ll live another day, and I can spend another birthday with my family, have another drink with my friends, and share an anniversary with a lover I haven’t met. Maybe I can still become a world-renowned dancer, even after all this.

I take another shaky breath, and the rattle in my chest reminds me why I can’t do any of that.

The sight of the pavement below starts to blur from my tears. I watch as one rolls down my cheek, taking the fall I’m too much of a coward to make. It becomes too small to see, but I know it has probably hit the concrete where it will dry up, and by sunrise no one will know it was ever there. I wonder if the same will go for my body when I jump. Will it get cleaned up with haste, the mark I leave with my blood washed away by morning? A mental image of my body flashes before my eyes, and I have to lift my head to shake away the thought.

That’s when I see it— the bright streak running across the sky. A shooting star. I may not be five anymore, but does it matter what I believe in when I’m already so close to the end? I let my eyes flutter shut, and I whisper my wish into the chilly night air.

I wish to dance one last time.

I stretch my hand out high, as if to reach for the star.

A warm hand slipping into mine startles me into opening my eyes.

Right in front of me, floating in mid-air, is a young man. His eyes and hair glow golden, illuminating his face in the dark night. He wears a simple black cape that flutters behind him as it battles the wind.

“You called?” the man asks, his voice gentle yet clear over the city noises below. I simply stare in response, wondering if I’ve already made it into the afterlife after all. His lips pull into a soft smile at my confusion. “Well, you wished on a star, didn’t you? Here I am— your personal shooting star, at your service.”

I struggle to form words. Thinking of all the times I sent wishes to the stars as a kid, the first thing that comes out of my mouth is: “Why hasn’t that ever worked before?”

The star chuckles, floating closer to sit next to me without letting go of my hand. I don’t pull away, his touch strangely comforting despite the oddness of the situation. “This is a… special case.”

“Because it’s the last wish I’ll ever make?”

“You’re a blunt one,” he notes. “But yes. Now then, I believe your wish was to have a dance?”

I nod. He floats off the ledge again, tugging my hand with him. I join him in the air with ease, floating as if my insides have been replaced with helium. A surprised gasp escapes me, followed by a delighted laugh.

His hand slips around my waist, pulling me close to his frame. “Is this the type of dance you wanted?” he asks.

“Not exactly what I imagined,” I admit, still staring beneath us in awe. “But I’ll take it.”

“Don’t look down,” he urges, lifting his hand momentarily from my waist to tilt my chin up. “Just dance with me.”

And so we dance, his hand loosely gripping mine as we twirl in the air. I feel light as a feather, and for a moment I can forget the burdens weighing me down to Earth. I even find it easier to breathe, despite the cancer that has eaten away at my lungs.

After I have my fun, spinning and leaping in mid-air, we settle into a comfortable sway. If this is my last wish, I don’t regret it one bit. Nevermind that it isn’t on a stage, in front of an audience and under a spotlight. For the first time in months, I feel truly free. No breathing wires keeping me to my bed, no doctors or nurses urging me to rest when it’s the last thing I want to do. For the first time in months, I’m living.

“What can I call you?” I ask, needing to put a name to my savior.

He considers it, like he’s never thought of having a name. “You can call me Star.”

“Simple. I respect it.”

Star grins. “And what’s your name?”

“Tara.”

He nods. “Tara. A fine name for a fine dancer. So tell me, Tara, what’s your story?”

“My story?”

“Everyone has a story,” says Star. “I come across a lot of them in this line of work, yet every one of them is unique. They fascinate me, the living. So what’s yours?”

I think for a moment, staring out at the city lights. “I wanted to be a dancer,” I finally say, wistfulness lacing my tone. “Ever since I was a little girl.”

“Are you not a dancer now?” Star asks.

“Not in the way I wanted to be. I can dance, sure, but I wanted to be known. I wanted to take the stage and stun the world. Leave a mark.”

“You have left a mark.”

“Have I?”

“Your family,” Star says. “Your friends. Every acquaintance or stranger you’ve met in your lifetime, no matter how insignificant the interaction, has been affected by you.”

“That’s… a nice way of thinking about it.”

“It’s true,” he says. “You, Tara, lived a beautiful life. You were kind, passionate, selfless. Not everyone can say they’ve lived a life as admirable as yours.”

I stare at him, my heart settling into a quiet acceptance. “It’s over, isn’t it?”

He tilts his head. “What is?”

“My life. I’m already gone,” I say, the words solidifying the thought as they leave my mouth.

Star gives me a stunned look, speechless.

“Show me your true form,” I say, squinting like I can break through the illusion myself.

He finally smiles faintly. “Smart girl.”

His image flickers. His cheeks hollow, and his skin pales. The hand holding mine becomes slender, my grip loosening on instinct as if I might break it. The glow of his hair and eyes fade, leaving a black-haired, dark-eyed man staring down at me.

Star was beautiful, but Death is even more so.

“Not a lot of people figure it out so quickly,” he says, and I notice his voice remains unchanged. It’s still silky smooth, wrapping around me like a blanket.

“When did I die?” I ask.

Death raises a hand, making a wiping motion in the air. Instantly, the sounds around me are amplified like I’ve emerged from underwater. Sirens cut through the air, and I look below us. A police car has stopped in front of the hospital, and both policemen and paramedics alike are surrounding my body on the concrete.

“You died reaching for a star,” says Death.

I guess I made the jump after all. The revelation fills me with a strange sense of calm. My family and friends will find out soon. There will be mourning, but then they will move on, taking memories of me with them. I’ve done my part in life. I’ve made my mark.

“Are you ready to go?” asks Death. I may not know exactly where we’re going, but I wrap my arms around his thin frame, welcoming him.

People have the impression that death is a cold and scary thing. In truth, Death is a warm embrace waiting at the end of a seemingly endless tunnel, murmuring into your ear that you can finally rest.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is an esteemed celebration of literary talent from around the world. It offers writers an opportunity to share their unique perspectives and stories with a global audience, fostering a community of creativity and expression.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Daniyah Asfa for her moving contribution, "One Last Dance," to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Her story is a testament to the power of hope and the enduring human spirit. We appreciate her sharing such a deeply personal and touching narrative with us.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.