The Spectator

Been struggling recently with all things virtual, from twitter to facebook, blogging too email all of it has felt tainted with a malady or doom laden woes. Finally the clouds lifted in time to enter the latest Flash! Friday prompt. The idea didn’t place, mainly due to there being far better stories submitted, but at least it got the old creative muscles exercising again!

Dancing at the Red Cross Fund, Brisbane, 1942. Public domain photo.

The usual deal, 150 word limit, based on the photo prompt and including a dancer. Hope you enjoy!

The Spectator

He held the photograph, monochromatic ballerinas frozen in time. He could recall that day with such wonderful detail. The hushed tones of the audience as his sister and her friends entered the hall. The rustle of fabric against skin. The apprehensive glances thrown between confident smiles.

Angels, all of them, poised and elegant.

The music filled the universe, the dancers becoming a moving constellation of wonder. He had been so proud of his sister that day, so in awe of her beauty. She had been so graceful, so wonderful.

Afterwards father had bought them sodas and ice-cream. She was still in her costume, a princess amongst peasants.

He never watched her dance again, yet he had never forgotten the moment.

Now she was gone, leaving him alone. He gently lowered himself into his armchair, watching the dust dance into the air.

If only he could recall her name.

Or even his own.

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