This weeks Flash! Friday asked us to incorporate a dancer into a story about the following prompt:
Dancing at the Red Cross Fund, Brisbane, 1942. Public domain photo.
Dancing Days
The lights are blinding, the sound of politely muffled silence from the crowd is a deafening roar. It is the moment I have been dreaming of, my time in the spotlight. Each move is etched into my memory from the countless hours of practice. I glide with effortless grace, my limbs are as supple and weightless as freshly filled balloons.
I follow my steps perfectly, but then without warning I lurch forwards, catching myself by surprise. This isn’t part of the routine but something else takes over. I twist and turn so beautifully the crowd bursts into tears, and I crumple to the floor exhausted.
I hear voices mumbling quietly from the front row.
“Sit rep?”
“Young female. Car accident. Severe head trauma, multiple fractures.”
“What’s with the outfit?”
“She was on her way to a dance recital.”
“Driver?”
“Her Mother. She’s being treated for shock.”
“Ok, prep surgery. Remove the tutu, I’m afraid her dancing days are over.”
