My friend Polly sent me some photos of her great aunt, who was a professional ballroom dancer. She asked me if I would like to write a story with her. I loved seeing the photos and wrote the first chapter… here is Polly’s continuation…
A continuation from Ted’s story – read part 1 here and inspired by some family photographs I recently found
Bella felt she could sleep for days, and perhaps she would’ve if she lived somewhere else; instead she was brought rudely to wakefulness by the clanking sound of the plumbing, protesting at her neighbours’ requirement for water with which to flush, shave, bathe and cook. All around her, apartment doors were opening and closing, feet clattering on the winding staircase. The street door slammed frequently as those living hugger mugger, having made their morning ablutions, set off to work.
She threw an arm over her face, shielding her eyes from light streaming in through her narrow window, but even that limb felt leaden. Bella’s legs were worse, her knee and hip joints screamed from overuse while her feet were throbbing as insistently as when she’d slipped off her dancing shoes the…
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“Hi, it’s me, you’ll never guess what.”
“You didn’t guess.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake! How can I guess if you don’t at least give me a clue?”
“I got something from Gene in the mail.”
“I know Gene’s dead! But, I got a box from him.”
“He’s been gone for three years, so what’s in the box?”
“I think it’s Gene.”
“Open the box.”
“I’m afraid, can you come over?”
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“Evans Funeral Home sent it, not Gene, Ethel.”
“Where should we scatter him?”
“His favorite place of course, Lottie’s Pub.”
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Always fun when Rochelle chooses one of my photos for the prompt at FridayFictioneers. I took this when I was helping a friend move things to storage. It’s not Gene in the box, btw. To read other stories prompted by this image, click on the Frog…
The sight of the forty three couples entering the shabby ballroom caused a stir in the air from the gathering assembled to witness the dance competition. Times being hard, the promoter could not afford an orchestra so a needle was dropped on a record and at the sound of the waltz the couples began to dip and sway as they moved about gliding around the dance floor. Many in the audience had brought their lunch with them and some might return after work to see who was still dancing. It was something to do.
Madge was paired with Ronald a man she did not really know but who had done well at a marathon in Cleveland and she liked his profile in the newspaper photo, he had style like a sex symbol from the flickers. So Madge sent him a letter inviting him to be her partner. He thought Chicago was a step up so he had agreed sight unseen. He was not unhappy when he saw Madge.
The competition lasted almost four days (ninety-one hours and twenty-seven minutes to be exact) before Madge and Ronnie as she was now calling him outlasted the other dancers. She had to pull him up from the floor as his need to sleep was sudden. Madge desperately wanted a shower and a lime rickey, but they needed to collect their prize money first.
After handing Ronald the cash, the promoter suggested they could become an indissoluble couple and do well in the walkathons. He had an even bigger one planned next month at the White City amusement park and wanted to use them in the promotion, suggesting if they could pretend to be married that would be nice. Madge said she and Ronnie would think about it as she slipped the bills from his fingers.
To be continued… My dear friend, Polly Cullen, who writes at GriffinsKeyFiction will be writing the next installment to this story. She recently found some family photos of her great aunt and I found a story in them. Here is Polly’s continuation… NEXT STEPS Neither one of us knows where this is going, come along for the ride.
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Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie… This week Yves has challenged us to write a story using these words: Records, Sudden, Lime, Indissoluble, Anodyne, Pull, Sway, Gathering, Symbol, Sound, Style, Profile (I skipped Anodyne)
What do you mean ‘you call’
I can call if I want to
Aren’t you going to bet first
That’s a big bet, are you going to call now
I call, three queens
Three kings, you lose
Want to take part in the WEEKEND WRITING PROMPT#197 Write a story or poem with just 41 words, no more no less, and send it to Sammi Cox.