Happy Feet.

 

The Audition.

The red door stood stark against a street of black counterparts. It was the exact shade of the virtual lipstick signature that sat at the end of the email she’d sent.

She called herself Darling.

I leant towards the lacquered wood and heard only space behind it. I glanced again at the piece of paper in my hand. There was no sign on the door and no number, just the potted topiary trees that she had described when she’d called to tell me to come to the audition. That word carried a certain chesty self-assurance.

I had told my friends I was going for an interview.

I knocked. The door swung inwards, revealing a dark hallway lined with leather cubes. Each foam filled box had a girl balanced on top. One sat empty and uninviting in the corner.

My heels ticked across the slate floor as I edged around the door. It was latched behind me by a man dressed in a suit that hugged his broad shoulders as though it was clinging on for life. I smiled in greeting but he remained mute and expressionless.

The hallway stood as silent as the void I had heard from the other side. My stomach growled in protest of my liquid caffeine breakfast. A girl with bleached yellow hair leered at my waist.

I should have had another cigarette.

By the time I’d been in London for a month I had convinced myself I was anaemic. Certain that my countryside reared blood couldn’t fuel my body in the way it did every other Londoner’s, I would chew on Pro Plus tablets with droopy eyes and a languid brain that had forgotten to swallow. I could still taste the morning’s dose; the bitterness had bonded with my taste buds as the coagulated powder sifted down my oesophagus unwillingly.

I heard her imminent entrance. The straightening of their backs and the fluffing of their locks told me that they had heard too. We stood to attention as she greeted us, her set of ghost white porcelain teeth flicking out from between rouged lips.

She marched us down the stairs and into a low-lit room cocooned beneath the city. A chequered floor stood at the centre, surrounded by tufted red velvet booths, each of which tilted towards a mirrored pole that stood at the helm.

 

giphy-5

72 Comment

  1. […] little story submitted for  Literary Lion’s word this week.  The word is ‘dance’ and my story goes this […]

  2. […] [Posted in response to Literary Lion’s “dance” prompt] […]

  3. I could feel the tension … and I know enough to know that these situations are pressure packed. Good imagery.

    BTW … Not long ago (but before we encountered each other), I took my first crack at fiction. Given the topic here, I think you’ll like it. This post was also part of a challenge I issued, and my readers came through! https://afrankangle.wordpress.com/2015/07/12/on-the-floor-reprise-and-challenge/

    1. That’s an intriguing comment, that you ‘know enough’ 😉 Fab, I’ll have a look at that now!

  4. […] week’s prompt was “Dance” and I attempted to write a slightly different take on it – focusing on the dance of life […]

  5. Great one!
    And for once we didn’t have the same idea 😛

    1. Fantastic! I’m glad I didn’t rob you of another idea!

  6. Donna-Louise Bishop says: Reply

    You managed to fit so much in such a short word count. And you made it look effortless. I started to sense where this was going early on but it didn’t distract from the enjoyment I had reading it.

    I am new to your challenge and had my own go at this last night (it’s on my blog). I am hoping it will get me back into good habits with my writing.

    I would love to have a sneak peak in your jar! Or even the opportunity to add to it ? I bet your friends love visiting for that reason alone!

    1. Thank you! I have thought about perhaps getting an address that people can send them to, as it grows I will probably look into doing it… it would be very interesting to see what people come up with! I really hope the lion will help encourage your writing, looking forward to seeing more from you 🙂

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