Here’s this week’s “Flash Fiction Friday” prompt from Advizor54’s blog. Click over there to see what he and other bloggers wrote about this photo! My thoughts are below.
Word Length – 444
Required Word/Phrase – Ingénue (pronounced an-zhuh-noo)
Forbidden Words – Mirror, Pasta, Doggie, Tutu
25 bonus words – Share an experience that happened at a performance
Extra Credit – Explain where her mother is (25 extra words)
I am a great dancer. I get cast in every ballet the company does. I had the best training – graduated from the conservatory. I eat carefully, never over the target weight. I show up early to practice, stay late at the barre, volunteer to schmooze at donor events, and have never had a spat with management! I learn the steps for the special roles, let the director see me practicing them. I even got mentioned in a review once… even if they called me “the third dancer on the right.”
Yet… he never picks me for the solo or the pas de deux. I tell myself it doesn’t matter – I get to dance and I get paid for it! So many women never make it this far! I adore wearing the frilly costumes, being out on stage moving to the music and hearing the applause…. it feels like what I was born to do.
The women who are chosen to star? Some of them are not that great. They can’t pirouette as fast as I do, or jette as high… and they never show up for events, come in late… I just don’t get it!
My pal Marcy told me the reason. She said those women fuck the maestro! Not all of them, sure, but the ones that aren’t that great? Them. She’s always been a bit… blunt. And salacious! I don’t believe her. It’s such a stereotype. Women today don’t have to do that.
The annual gala was tonight. I bought a dark blue dress that showed off more than usual. All the women were beautiful in their designer gowns and heirloom jewelry, and the men looked so handsome in white tie and tails!
I met my parents at the box office – I had arranged for them to have orchestra seats at the premiere. They had sacrificed so much to get me here, I wanted them to see that it had paid off. My mother gave me a rose! We hugged then they beamed at me and headed into the hall.
It was almost call time when I made it to the dressing room. One of the new dancers whispered in my ear, “Carolina has the flu!” She was supposed to dance the ingenue role! Oh no! Her special tiara sat in it’s box on the side table. The Russian dancer asked, “So who will he pick for the EngineOooAy?” “An-zhuh-noo,” I quietly correctly her. She smiled. “Zhoo are zee best dearie! It should be you!”
The stage manager checked me in then looked down the list and asked, “Where’s Marcy?” I looked around, but she wasn’t in there. I offered to check in the women’s room, but there was no one left in there. I was on my way back down the hall when I heard a noise from the conductor’s private dressing room. The door was slightly ajar. I stopped and stared… Marcy! She was telling the truth!