Posted in Blogging, Fiction, postaday, writing

Flashback Friday

Hello, people!

Here we are again, another Friday, another start to a weekend. I sure hope it’s a great one for you!

This is a short story I did in September of 2012, it’s a bit dramatic, but that must have been how I felt that day. I don’t really remember…or I plead the fifth.  😉

Hope you enjoy it.

 

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The Dancer Who Didn’t Want to be a Dancer

 

Dani could feel the sweat dripping down every inch of her body. She was so tired but knew she couldn’t stop. Didn’t dare stop. Her body screamed at her until Dani had no choice. Exhausted she dropped down to the floor in a puddle of limp muscles. Her breathing was labored, she had been practicing for two hours straight. No breaks, and she just couldn’t do another minute.

“Get up!” she heard a voice yell. “Get up this instant Dani!”

She raised her head and glanced at her least favorite relative. Dani came from five generations of dancers. Her family were world renown, the most famous dancing troupe in the world. And Dani hated it. She loved dancing, but she hated dancing too. The endless training, the constant traveling, the different towns, and cities. Faceless audiences that always demanded more. Down through the generations dancing had been a way of life for her family. They married other dancers, had babies that grew up to be great dancers. Their whole world was dancing, practicing and routines. She hated it all.

“Dani! You will never be a great dancer if you don’t continue practicing.”

Dani winced at the loud voice in her ear. Her Great Aunt Claudia nudged her with her cane. It was a bit more forceful than necessary. But Dani has always known Great Aunt Claudia disliked her. She never knew why, but it had been proven to be true in the past.

“I cannot go another second, Madame,” Dani told  her. “My body refuses to do it.”

“Don’t be a stupid child. It is not your body that is weak, it is your mind. Now get up and continue with the practice,” scolded Great Aunt Claudia.

Sighing, Dani pushed herself up to stand.  She knew her Great Aunt would not leave her in peace, so once again Dani would dance.  Even though her body ached and her feet were bleeding she would continue with the practice she hated so much.

One day I will leave this,  I will run away and become what and who I want to be.  I  will be ME!  Thought Dani as she pushed through the pain and danced in front of the mirrored wall, with the critical eyes of Great Aunt Claudia following her.

“Again Dani! Do it again but with more grace!” yelled out Great Aunt Claudia. “You are moving like a clumsy elephant! Pick those feet up! Jump higher!”

Dani could hear the thumping of Madame’s cane as it hit the floor behind her. She always referred to her Great Aunt as Madame, like the other students. She had never felt close to her Great Aunt even though she was brought up by her. Madame taught dance to young men and women, because Madame could not dance herself. When she was nineteen she fell down a flight of cement steps and broke her back.  That was forty years ago since then she has had to walk with a cane and was never able to dance again. So she taught.

Having generations of dancers behind her, Dani knew Madame was a great teacher, very sought after. But Madame was always tougher on Dani.

“I swear you can not be Edward’s child. Edward was a fantastic dancer. The best in the family. Even that woman he married was a passable dancer,” commented Madame. “I often wonder if that woman did not cheat on Edward and have some other man’s baby. For you are nothing compared to Edward.”

Dani swallowed her hurt. This was not a new dialog with Madame. Dani had heard it many times before.  Madame never liked her mother and it was well-known in the family that Edward had always been Madame’s favorite person. Dani remembered her parents as loving parents, to her and to each other. She was ten years old when they died in a terrible car accident.  Dani’s parents and an older cousin named Amelia was in the car when it was hit by a truck.  They all died instantly. Amelia was another one of Madame’s favorites. Something else Dani was never allowed to forget.

“Why did Amelia have to die too!”  Madame cried. “Such a talent  that girl was. So beautiful and graceful. She was born to dance just like Edward. To die at the young age of fifteen was too cruel.”

Dani stopped dancing and watched Madame work herself up remembering that tragic accident. She wiped her face of sweat and waited for what she knew was coming next.

“Why was it not you in that car? Why were you left behind and Amelia wasn’t?” Madame asked. “I will tell you why! It is because you were a sickly child, and your mother did not want to take care of you. So she left you with your nanny and took Amelia and my Edward for that fateful drive.”

Dani remembered that day also. She had caught a terrible cold a few days before the accident. They were supposed to go Christmas shopping, but she had been too sick to go. So her parents and Amelia  went without her. They never returned.

“It just wasn’t fair to take such talented and loved people and leave me with you,” Madame cruelly stated.

That was all Dani could listen to. She had heard the same things spew out of Madame’s mouth for years. The hateful words that stung so sharp. Dani had always tried to be what Madame wanted, but it was never enough. She could never be her father or her cousin Amelia. And she was reminded of that fact in every possible way. She had twelve years of being told this again and again. It gave her nightmares at night. It echoed in her heart every single day.  She was tired of hearing it. She might not be a great dancer, but she didn’t want to be either! She had never wanted to be.

Dani wanted to be an artist, a painter. Every moment she could she painted her beautiful pictures. That was the only time she felt at peace. She loved the feel of a paintbrush in her hand, the colors flowing over canvas. Watching those colors become something beautiful, full of life.

Dani had enough. She could not listen to another hateful word. She ran to the door and opened it.  As she ran down the hall and out the building she could still hear her Great Aunt’s words in her head.

“You should have died that day! You and that woman who gave birth to you! Not my beautiful Edward and Amelia! YOU!”

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blog challenge, Blogging, Fiction, postaday, writing

Alternate Story Ending Challenge

This post is in response to a small Writing Challenge from my blog buddy Frank over at A Frank Angle. 

Frank has written his first fiction story. It was quite good too. Way to go Frank! Now he has issued a challenge for other bloggers to write alternate endings to his story.

Frank has issued a challenge to develop a new ending: a) after “The music ends” and b) in 75 words or less.

My contribution is in bold after Franks very nice story. Hope you enjoy. If you would like to participate, please head on over to Franks! Thanks!

 

On The Floor

The music starts – its tempo and rhythms define the dance. He approaches her table, and extends an inviting hand. She accepts. They take to the floor. He offers a hand and a frame. Again, she accepts, but looks away while in hold as if to say, “I’ll dance – but I’m not interested.”

They move to the music’s sharp, fiery rhythms that are intertwined with sensuality. Their eyes continue gazing in opposite directions to avoid a visual connection – yet, their bodies touch.

They dance – they move – sometimes slow – sometimes fast – but always sharp and to rhythm.

He rolls her out – they flick in unison. He tugs to rolls her back into his arms. She shrugs him off by returning to hold with her head turned away. Their steps continue.

He steps back – a lunge – a corté. She steps forward and raises her leg against his, and slowly moves it downward as a caress. He notices – she’s got his attention. As he returns her to upright, their eyes connect through a glimpse – yet each looks away.

The pace seeming hastens. The musical beat remains steady. Their moves remain sharp. Their eyes are starting to communicate to the other through glances.

She leans her body into him and her head is no longer facing away. They lock their eyes for the first time, and her eyes and face speak to him when. She places her head on his chest.

The normally sharp fans are now slow and smooth – yet still to the music’s rhythm. As she turns, his right hand slides naturally along her sleek frame. He notices the curvature of her hips. His head is not as high as he looks toward her with hopes of connecting again.

To him, her face displays desire. Her eyes are closed, but only she knows why. They are now in another place. To him, they are in the midst of passion. To her, she is the seductress who has succumbed to his fantasy.

He responds to the music’s fire with 8 fast steps down the floor. He rolls out as before, but on her return, she is close – and her right hand slowly caresses his face. The music ends.

He holds her close. Slowly their bodies separate till a few inches of cool air circulates between them. Her hand falls to her side as she opens her eyes and stares into his. The passion of the dance lingers between them, throbbing. 

Two strangers in the night, their hearts beating fast, their breaths shallow. She takes one last deep breath and turns and walks away.

He watches her with yearning stirring in his blood. Who is this goddess who matched her steps so effortlessly with his? He may never know as she disappears into the crowd.

 

 

Posted in Fiction, Flash Back Friday, postaday, writing

Flash Back Friday

Hello people!

Hope your day is being good to you. For this week’s Flash Back Friday I’m bringing back a story I wrote in September of 2012. It came from some research I was doing for something else. I stumbled across the term ‘taxi dancer’ and had to look it up as it fascinated me. Still does. Hope you enjoy my little story and if you are interested the Wikipedia link for the term taxi dancer is here. Thanks!

Taxi Dancer

After  the song ended, Anita sat at her table and wished  she could take her shoes off and rub her tired, achy feet. But, she knew the music would start again in a few minutes and there would be another man holding out his 10 cent ticket to her. They would dance, maybe have a few snippets of conversation if he was talkative. If the man was on the shy side the dance would be quiet.

If Anita liked the look of the man, she would try to get him to talk. Most times not though. It was a job. Times were tough, she had to help  with the family finances and this was better than nothing. She got this job because she could dance. She always loved to dance, even when she was little, Mama would catch her dancing all over their tiny  apartment. Now that Mama was sick, it was up to her to pay the bills. So she came to the Taxi Dancehall and got a job.

The job was tiring and she usually went home with sore feet and achy muscles, but it never stopped her from returning the next day.  The pay was fair, mostly because she was one of the most popular Taxi’s there. Men enjoyed dancing with her and she had her weekly regulars. She knew that some dancers working there did ‘side jobs’, but she wasn’t one of them. She was a good girl and she  couldn’t shame Mama  that way.

Anita heard the band start another song and just like always, there was a man standing in front of  her with his 10 cent ticket in his hand. Without even glancing up at the man’s face, she took his ticket and stuck it inside the small black purse dangling from her wrist. She stood up and took his outstretched hand, finally tilting her head up and see who it was. This one she didn’t know, he was a new face in the crowd. The handsome young man smiled at her and led her to the dance floor.

They glided smoothly across the oak  floor. Not speaking. Anita was okay with that, there didn’t seem to be a need to talk. She thought he was an excellent dancer, better than most of her ticket holders. She felt comfortable. As they twirled once more around, he finally spoke in a soft deep voice. “I’m glad my buddy talked me into coming here tonight.”

“Why is that?” Anita asked.

“Because I just met the most beautiful woman, who dances like an angel.”

“I bet you say that to all the ladies” Anita joked.

“Only you,”  he said. “Only you from now on,” he whispered.