Wednesday, 2 November 2016

DREAMS - Wednesday Writers

Writing Prompt for Wednesday Stories 11/2/16
·       October 27, 2016


This week we will focus on weaving a story to include photos.
Please write a story using two to four of these photos, limiting your word count to 500
If you would like to join in the fun please go to:
Inner Sunshine's blog to find out more
http://www.innersunshine.net/2016/11/02/debbs-story-for-wednesday-stories-11216/
The four photos are below;





HERE IS MY 500 WORD STORY USING THREE PHOTOS FROM THE ABOVE CHOICE

DREAMS

Practice, practice, practice.  That was the mantra that kept going round in Rachelle’s head.  Her dance teacher would emphasize those words banging her silver topped cane on the floor as she pronounced them in her thick accent.

Practice, practice, practice, Rachelle heard her mother’s voice, its lilting tone musical, a smile at the end of the third word.  The litany would go on encouragingly as Rachelle spun round and round the living room floor.

Practice, practice, practice, her father’s deep toned voice reached far into her heart as the words echoed around the chambers of her pulsing organ.  She danced on the freshly mown lawn that was smooth and weed free, no stones would dare to breach the earth to trip her up when her dad was around.

Practice, practice, practice, her grandmother’s voice gently whispered to her.  I’m watching you from heaven my beautiful girl.  That whispery, wavering voice lifted Rachelle to new heights of trying.

Practice, practice, practice, sneered her brother, his lip curling up in distaste.  That’s all you do.  Why can’t you play with me instead?  At six years old Tommy thought dancing was for sissies.  He refused to watch her, he refused to dance with her.

Rachelle packed in every spare minute of her day to make her steps the best she could. She sat ramrod straight in the classroom, her feet and toes pointed elegantly towards the front of the class.  Her arms poised over her exercise book, her fingers holding the pen lightly, her hands making classic dance shapes.
Outside in the street, wearing her tutu and ballet shoes she would practice and twirl, the sun on her upturned face, the gentle breeze trying to stir her stiff hair, held in place by cans of hairspray. 


All her hard work and practice was going to pay off one day.  Rachelle was determined she would see her name up in lights.  That strip of advertising neon lights on the corner of the busiest street in London would proclaim her to be the best dancer in the world.  Her concerts would be sold out, her retinue would pamper to her every wish.


But then in the cold light of day her dreams, daydreams or night dreams, came crashing down.  Now she had to be responsible.  Now she had to help her family.  Tommy had grown up into a graffiti artist.  Not something she was proud.  Not something her parents could cope with.  Many times she bailed him out of jail as he was arrested for defacing a brick wall.


Tommy had a dream as well.  He also heard a voice saying, practice, practice, practice.  So he practised his art wherever he could.  No art school for him, the fees were too high, so wherever he saw a blank space he practiced his art.

Tommy’s inner voice drew him to open spaces to practice, much as Rachelle practiced in open spaces, hers was benign but his was malignant according to some people. 

Dreams found or lost.


Word count: 500

1 comment:

  1. I could hear the voices in this one so well. What a beautiful contrast of two dreams, one accepted and one scorned.

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