Prompt Story | Romantic Short
Dancing a Way into Her Heart
What does a mirrorball know about love?
I rotate slowly, bouncing fragments of colored light onto wood panels and magnolia walls. I’m swirling primary-coloured beams from the DJ’s music station and a current song vibes around. I spy a young man, set apart by his less-than-happy mood. His disconsolate eyes rove the decorations: tinsel overlaps paperchains that hang from the rafters. Red, white, and blue bunting, a legacy from the King’s coronation, frames the hatch where young adults buy beer and alcopops.
How many times have I watched girls become emboldened with drink, cycling from giggly to brash or tearful? It is no different with jostling, bristling lads, whose behaviour can quickly devolve into aggression or machismo. A fight may bubble up and flare into flying fists and torn shirts, or streaking mascara. Forcing friends to hold back the protagonists or become peacekeepers.
I’ve watched romances progress, from green, delicate buds into bright, hothouse flowers; and witnessed secret liaisons and stolen touches in the dark corners where my refracted light barely reaches. I’ve spun to first dances and last chances, idly twirled over wedding breakfasts and dramatic bust-ups.
The hall where I hang hosts christenings and birthday parties, with magicians and balloon-sculpting clowns. I’m still here during the day when the knitting group or the first-aid club meets, or puppies get obedience training. I glisten less, but as an orb encrusted with reflective shards, I see much and remember all.
The young man’s face illuminates with blue light, as he taps his phone. Who or what is making him check it frequently, interspersed with glances at the door? After asking ChatGPT for advice, he fixes his eyes on the windswept trees beyond the window while he ponders the response its machine thinking churns out.
I make another lazy revolution, synthesizer music reverberating amongst the beams, enticing the girls to dance in packs. Each is lip-glossed or shoulder-glittered to a party shine. They’ve mimicked my aesthetic take on beauty.
A tall young woman stands at the entrance, unwinding a blood-red scarf and hanging her coat. The young man’s reaction is instant, revealing the source of his distraction. She is the one who occupies his thoughts, hopes, and dreams.
“Rowena,” he sighs, watching her greet friends, who crowd around, prattling with news of their Christmas.
I hope ChatGPT identified a remark suitable to dazzle the object of his affection.
She buys a blue bottle of drink, then Rowena navigates the dance floor, swaying her hips and smiling sweetly. Was there anyone more beautiful? The young man doubts it. He is flooded with the strangest feeling watching her undulate with the beat. Love, longing, lust all surge to the surface, warming his cheeks, but manifesting as stiffness in his pants. I sense he cringes with embarrassment, possibly reminded of a previous bad experience. He’ll stay seated to hide his excitement at her close proximity.
Has he learned that passion is a powerful, mind-altering drug? Does his love trump Romeo’s yearning for Juliette? Possibly. Could it best Menelaus’ devotion to Helen? Perhaps it will burn brightly but briefly, like Mark Anthony’s obsession with Cleopatra? One way or another, he intends to forge a good impression. I wish I could help.
Having studied TikTok and YouTube for dances, he can bump and grind like a pro. When Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars begins thumping through the speakers, he rises with some swagger to a space. I wash his silhouette with patterns of light. His foot starts tapping, his fingers snapping, and he brushes imaginary dust from his shoulders. As he throws shapes, the crowd parts, casting admiring glances.
Rowena is watching, although he daren’t look. What if she finds him funny or crass? He couldn’t bear the horror, worse than opening a vampire’s coffin or being hounded by zombies. Then she taps on his shoulder, her smile wide and genuine.
“Teach me some moves?” She asks, casting awestruck glances at his shimmying shoes.
Rowena tries to mimic his steps and they laugh, dancing without a break, until the DJ turns down the music.
He announces, “It’s almost midnight.”
I vibrate.
The countdown starts. Rowena looks into the young man’s eyes and he seizes the moment. He will kiss this girl until the clock strikes twelve. Then they release the balloons and the new year begins.
To round off 2023 I wrote this piece. I’ve used all 10 prompts offered by Tantalizing Tales (prompts are in bold and my header is a picture from the ubiquitous Victoria ). I enjoyed the challenge. I’d like to thank everyone who has read my stories this year, your comments and support make this hobby fun and satisfying.
In 2024 I will share my focus between writing original romantic and steamy romances for subscribers on Ream plus more quirky and transgressive fiction for my Medium audience, it was high time to diversify.
I can’t go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.
[Alice in Wonderland : Lewis Carrol]