Dance On

My latest Micro Bookends entry wherein they supply the first (SWEET) and last (TOOTH) words, respectively, and you supply a max of 110 words in response to the above photo prompt. I received an HM from the judge with the comments:

You play the bookends off each other very inventively—sweet becoming decay, much the same way it does for the reader after we realize why she’s dancing and whose the audience. You make me miss what she’s left behind in that second paragraph with its sharp sense of place. The shock of the snowflake on skin is similar to the shock of this woman’s name being replaced by a number after we’ve become acquainted with her through her memories of Russia.

My entry:

Sweet, sweet rivulets of melody leaked between my ears. It kept my foot twirling in a pirouette that evoked cheers from the shadows.

The warm spotlight made my skin ache for the days of a crisp Russian winter. Bundled coats and coarse coffee. Bootlegged American horror films and knock-off Versace bags. Just Russia. Just anywhere but here.

Under the spotlight, under the gaze, in pantyhose that accentuated enough to make me squirm.

If I stopped, if I stopped…

A voice from the shadows like a snowflake on hot skin said, “Number 43, you can stop spinning now. Gentleman, bid.”

The sweet melody had become like bitter plaque on a tooth.


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