Just when I felt awful about not getting much out of the photo prompts of late, this lovely photo by Renee Heath comes along and POW! One story leads to another, and I ended up with three pieces. The second two are closely related. When I noticed the statue under the Boost Mobile sign, I simply couldn’t resist a little dual point of view…
Stuck (100 words)
She pirouetted, her skirt flowing out from her body like a web in the wind till it brushed against his passing arm. As he did each morning, he brushed away its fragile essence and continued on. Frantic, she twirled again and again, hoping against hope that he would see her, feel her, sense her, that he would turn, touch her, and save her. All but his face blurred with her movement, but still he stood. When the light changed, he crossed the street, deaf to her cries. She sank into her concrete prison and prayed tomorrow would bring her freedom.
The Lonely Dancer (100 words)
In the old days, he loved to watch me dance. Even now, I dance for him each day. Though passersby gawk, though they strike my feet with coins and trip me with sweaty, wadded up bills, I dance. I dance as though tomorrow may never come.
When the sun fades, my limbs grow heavy. Flesh turns to bronze, and I am frozen till morning dawns anew. By the rising silver moon, I watch him melt into flesh. I weep in my soul as he mourns my impassive figure. I wonder if he sees me dancing in the light of day.
And He Awakens (100 words)
Morning comes, and you’re dancing again. My muse, my love, my Genevieve, what magic has been done? I watch you through the day, follow each mad, elegant move you make, long to applaud you as I did before…
Now night descends. My muscles groan and flex, and I bid thee well. I mourn but a moment before leaving you, graceful even in bronze. In the moonlit alleys of this wretched city, I seek the one who can exchange our pitiful existence for one of joy. I swear to remain eternally transfixed, but not like this. No, love, not like this.
*For a little musical tie-in, see Dance Me to the End of Love by Leonard Cohen. And for a little more fun, find the little play(s) on words in And He Awakens. 🙂
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