A new challenge today. Literary Lion.
After rising to challenges to write 100 word Flash Fiction tales, I’ve decided to start tackling longer stories.
Today’s challenge is to tell a dance inspired tale, in 400 words or less. (The image was taken from Literary Lion)
Here it is :
Pas de Deux
Lorna had said to be there at 8 so Clive had come an hour early just in case her class ended unexpectedly. He waited at the front entrance to the Dance School in a busy Edinburgh street.
He swooned imagining her dancing in a white dress, pirouetting on her pink pointe shoes.
The wind mocked him relentlessly, forcing him to retreat further into the shadows of the grey stone Haymarket entrance that led to the Academy on the third floor.
Images of Lorna crossed his mind repeatedly, stirring irresistible pangs that he was unable to dispel.
The chime of the clock jolted him from his reverie. He was so disappointed with himself for arriving so early but imagining her pleased to see him, the cold seemed bearable somehow.
He played Tchaikovsky in his head as his mind strayed pleasantly to memories of evenings watching Ballet in the Upper Circle of the King’s Theatre while holding hands discretely.
A gust of wind pushed him back against the red painted door and the brass knocker pressed against his spine through his coat. Jolted from his pleasant thoughts, unwanted pangs of jealousy threw him back to reality as he remembered how Lorna seemed so complicit with the other dancers and musicians lately.
A fine rain started to fall and Clive’s spirits dampened also, spiking feelings of hopeless inadequacy. He had seen the look that Lorna gave to other men and he was terribly afraid that she was slipping away from him. He felt trapped because her presence had become a drug that he was incapable of resisting.
His yearning desire circled, danced and gyrated without end until he was no longer sure of exactly what he was thinking any more. The muscles of his neck tightened as the familiar waves of panic started to engulf him.
The door flew open unexpectedly and Lorna rushed out. Ian was clinging to her left arm while Stewart gripped the right.
“Oh Clive! Have you been waiting long my dear? We lost sight of time. Are you coming to Stewarts party? Could you be a sweetheart and get some wine from the Off Licence?“
Clive gazed at Lorna and attempted a smile.
“Sure.“ He replied as the three of them walked off towards Princes Street, talking loudly and laughing amongst themselves.