Another writer has agreed to let me share one of her stories. Let us know what you think in the comments.
By Joanne Taylor
The heel of her shoe broke so as she spun onstage she was forced to remain on tippy-toes lest the crowd would see it. Of course this was the day the owner would come – the day with all the misfortunes. One actor had fallen sick and another had shown up drunk.
“The rest of us have to wow him,” she thought, her skirt billowing out around her in a sparkling arc, catching the spotlights with its gaudy jewels.
If there was enough pizazz maybe he would continue the funding despite the rumours he was set to pull the plug. The music picked up as she circled around the stage, twirling and leaping and at a fevered pitch. When the music crescendoed she collapsed in an elegant curtsey, keeping her broken shoe tucked under so the front row wouldn’t notice.
At least it was a good crowd, she mused. Despite her heart pounding and sweaty and broken shoed, she arose and elegantly exited, passing Dagmar as she did, his act a down to her up, his guitar playing as steady and true as Johnny Cash albeit he looked a lot more like Jimi Hendrix.
They put the kaleidoscope effect on the lights for his ballad so she was safe to hang at the side curtain peering out at the crowd to lay eyes on the owner.
The owner’s son really. It was his father’s money but his passion. His passion had been for a certain actress who didn’t audition well. Hence the relationship ending, yet he continued to play patron. It had been months on the road and yet this was his first visit.
She could speculate but everyone already had, endlessly, so she kept quiet, waiting to see for herself.
In the kaleidoscope lights he seemed on the smallish side, hunkered down center stage left, three rows back. He wore black. His hair was black. He was intent on the stage and she couldn’t read his expression.
“He has three girlfriends or more,” Lucinda whispered in her ear. She was a terrible gossip, a spendthrift and as usual, irresistibly beautiful in all white, a dark gold painted on her eyes and a throwback 1950’s red on her overly pouted mouth. “And he’s taking us all out afterwards. For drinks. To celebrate.”
Lucinda raised a brow at her. It was her “too good to be true?” expression. “If he has the money let’s get him to spend it.”
Casey shrugged, non-committal.
“Well, I’m ordering the most expensive thing on the menu.”
Casey watched her stride out on stage and replace Dagmar in the spotlight. She raised her arms and started clapping above her head.
The crowd, anticipating, clapped along until her voice broke out over them, strong and honeyed and Lucinda sang her solo.
“Marvellous. Simply marvellous.”
By Genevieve Clovis
“When people ask how we met, I joke that it was pretty much a Cinderella story. You see the heel of her shoe broke or rather it fell off. And, yeah, I admit that’s where the similarity to Cinderella ends, but I still like the comparison.
“Even though it was her shoe that broke, she was way more Prince Charming than I could ever hope to be. I was a wreck when we met, but at least my shoes didn’t break.”
Paul paused in his storytelling a wistful smile spread across his face as he though back to when he first met his wife. He cleared his throat and continued.
“It wasn’t just the heel. The whole sole fell right off.
“She was walking in front of me when it happened, but I hadn’t noticed her. I was carrying a coffee, trying to get the damn lid open, and then her sole came off and tripped me. Right at the moment I opened the coffee lid.
“She got doused in coffee and I kissed pavement.”
Paul chuckled and tried to rub the smile off his wrinkled face.
“Great first impression, eh?” There was a long pause as he contemplated his own question.
“It was a blistering hot day. I mean fierce, high thirties at least. The pavement was burning my skin and I jumped up right quick.
“And there she was. Dripping coffee, and standing on one foot like a flamingo looking for all the world like she didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.
“In the end she laughed. A great big belly shaking, breath stealing kind of laugh. The kind of laugh that makes you cry.”
