Hey there popcorns! 🍿
This is my second post today (how exciting!) go check out my March Reflection post if you managed to miss it that I posted this morning, or continue reading reading this post! 👀
If you’d like to see more info about this Writing Challenge or are interested in joining the fun then simply click here for more info and the list of prompts for each of the fifteen days ✍️
Now I don’t want to make today’s post any longer than it has to be, so let’s jump straight into this! 💖
Writing Challenge 2020 Day 1: write a story that takes place at a spring dance
Daintily stepping down the never-ending golden polished stairs, I cast my eyes around the spacious hall filled with loved-up couples. Blonde-haired barbies hung onto the arms of egotistic Ken’s, all dark suits and jelled hair.
I was an oddity here, so different from everyone else. But that was okay, because I didn’t want to be like them anyway.
Clad in a dainty peach coloured cocktail dress paired with baby pink stilettos, I really was dressed the part.
“You look deep in thought,” a husky voice interrupted me from my thought and I turned around to pair the familiar voice with the very familiar face.
“Nicklaus,” I breathed out.
“Bella,” he stated my name, drawing out the end part so it sounded like a chorus singing it.
Or maybe that was just in my head.
My ex-boyfriend, the only boy who I’d ever let in and the only boy who had ever broken my heart.
“Dance with me,” he pronounced, posing it more as an order than a question, his hazel eyes scouring my face for my answer.
The old me would have said ‘yes’. The old me would have done everything he told me to do. The old me wouldn’t have the strength to retaliate.
“No,” I growled, smirking in satisfaction as surprise flashed across his perfect features, to be quickly overtaken by anger and slight annoyance.
“W-what?!” He sputtered, throwing his hands up in the air in confusion.
“You heard me.” He stared at me dumbfounded, “Now. Go. Away.” I put as much hate as I could muster into every syllable, drawing each word out, the taste of his betrayal like poison on my lips.
He laughed. He just laughed. He just stood there, and laughed. After collecting himself, he said the first eight words that would make me explode.
“Come on Bels, you don’t really mean that,” he smiled, throwing his hands casually into the front pockets of his neatly-ironed, crease-free trousers.
I’m not sure whether it was his casual use of the nickname he used to give me: ‘Bels’, the small smirk that played on his lips or the fact that he had destroyed me and left me to pick myself up and brush the dirt from my clothes, but I actually slapped him.
My hand, connecting with his face, and the sweet sound of revenge as a satisfying slash sounded through the air, my eyes watching as a dark bruise blossomed on his cheek and his eyes staring at me in shock, clutching his cheek in pain: all caused a small smile to frame my lips.
“I meant every single word.” I boldly said to him.
Turning on my heels, and strutting straight into the middle of the dance floor; full of surprised couples with open-mouths and wide eyes, following my every move.
And then I danced, I danced like I’d never danced before.
I danced alone.
That was so fun to write, this was a really good prompt, I think this short story ‘Dancing Alone’ was a perfect length I’m going to give each of my stories a small cover image and their own name 💖
Did you enjoy eating this? Are you looking forward to the other 14 Days? Have you ever been to a dance of any kind?
Happy reading and writing my gorgeous popcorns 🍿 📖