Sunday, June 1, 2008

Regrets



Regrets

In the middle of levitation practice, Anya began to regret that she'd polished off a Big Mac, large fries and a strawberry shake for lunch.

8 comments:

Terra Stone said...

All of us were tired. We had been working non-stop through the morning in preparation for our first recital tommorow night. We all began to watch each other closely, hoping that no one would make a mistake that would prompt madame into making us start over again. At this point, all I wanted was a hot tub and a soft bed.

Leroy J. Powers said...

Sigh. I don’t know who had the bright idea to hold a recital the day my junior prom – but there is no way I’m going to ruin my pedicure.

Dragon said...

Anya had been faking it so long the other girls started to play along. Even Madame appeared to turned a blind eye.

"And one and two and one and lift," Madame counted. In time, the girls pointed their toes, bounced, and hung in the air.

"And one and two and one and float," Madame counted. Anya stayed on the ground, scowling at her own feet. Everyone else could, and she couldn't. Anyone else would have been thrown out of the academy long ago. Levitation was basic, first year stuff.

After class, Anya waited for the others to tumble out, then shyly approached.

"Madame," she said, curtsying, "Some days I wonder if I belong here, in the class, in this school."

"Hush, child," Madame said. "Of course you belong here. Power is in your blood. And class is over. Do call me Mom."

Vesper de Vil said...

i am the founder and editor of Glossolalia (http://www.glossolalia7.com), an on-line journal for flash fiction.

i am currently conducting a call for submissions for the inaugural issue of Glossolalia. all rights remain with the author.

if you are interested in submitting your work, please email submissions@glossolalia7.com.

thanks so much, and stay creative!!!

regards,
vesper de vil

Cynthia said...

My mother forced me to take ballet lessons. I didn't want to go to class--I was tall, a bit chunky and very clumsy. But every Saturday morning my mother drove me to the hot studio. During the drive, I would come up with reasons not to go.

"I have to study for a test."

"I have cramps."

"I want to go swimming with my friends."

"I suck at ballet."

As we pulled up to the school, I would wail, "Everyone makes fun of me. Everyone's mean to me. Please don't make me go."

Nothing got through to her. I was taking ballet lessons no matter what I wanted.

Why was this so important to her? Why did she insist I do something I hated? Why did she intentionally make me miserable?

I never had my questions answered.

Now, I look at my own daughter. I see her interests. I see her possibilities. I listen to her. I see her.

Now, I throw out the brochures announcing, "A friend recommended your child for a free ballet lesson."

Cynthia said...

My body is mine. I train my muscles and my mind. I work hard to get my body to be strong. I work hard to be an honor student.

Kids, some of them my friends, make fun of me. A lot of kids in the eighth grade say they're having sex. Some say giving a bj doesn't count.

Sometimes even I think I'm weird but then I look at those girls and see weakness. Every night, I look in the mirror and say to myself, "You're strong."

It's my body. Leave me alone.

Ruth D~ said...

In the middle of levitation practice, Anya began to regret that she'd polished off a Big Mac, large fries and a strawberry shake for lunch.

Emily said...

My world revolved around dancing. Salsa, waltz, breakdancing, whatever. It didn't matter. As long as it wasn't ballet, I was satisfied. Then one day, my mother signed me up for a ballet class. My world shattered.

I went every Saturday. It was horror at that time. But after a few months, it started to change. I started feeling light, started to feel better about it. But the largest change came when I finally started to include jumps.

Before, it was all just twirls and spins. But my first little hop, I flew. Even only for a single second, I hovered off the earth. Then, they got bigger and bigger and finally, I had wings and I was flying.

Now, I can't dance anymore. I'm stranded on land, unable to move. But when I want to fly, I remember the days of ballet, what I once hated is now a fond memory. A happy time, when I had wings, when the sky was my stage.

When I was dancing on air.