Rebecca tugged at her tutu. The other ballerinas didn’t seem to have a problem with their costumes, but then again they didn’t have the generous badonkadonk she was blessed with.
“Now, we can’t all be the Sugar Plum Fairy…” Amanda was lecturing. Of course, Amanda had the advantage of actually being a fairy. She was pointe-shoe-in for the part.
Rebecca watched her classmates take the stage one at a time. Diana the dryad bounded with endless energy. Naomi the nymph was grace incarnate. The teacher praised them each, giving them the accessory or prop that complemented their part in the upcoming recital.
Rebecca was a troll. She took up most of the stage, which limited her choice of moves she could perform without causing bodily injury to her fellow ballerinas. She music began, and she performed her best move.
The pirouette. Not just one, but pirouette after pirouette, locking eyes with the audience with each turn. Rebecca could spin from dusk till dawn and never get dizzy.
The music ended, and even Amanda applauded enthusiastically. The teacher praised her, then reached down into the magic chest that held all the treasures that represented the parts each ballerina would play. In her hands was the most beautastic, gorgenificient tiara Rebecca had ever seen. The teacher crowned her, and an audible gasp of amazement sounded on all sides.
When the night of the recital came, Rebecca took her spot on center stage. Her pirouettes were perfect, and her tiara sparkled with the multiple spotlights that were aimed at her.
She was the most magnificent disco ball fairy-land had ever seen.
This is not related to anything else I’ve done. Earlier today I was participating in a Google Plus convo with Rebecca Blain and several other writers when we were invaded by a troll. I remarked that I had a story prompt to write, but I suddenly had an urge to write about trolls. Rebecca replied with “Oooh, Ooh, Amy! Can I be a pretty pink princess troll? I wanna be a pretty pink princess!”
Well, I looked at the prompt from Write on Edge, which included a Degas portrait of a ballerina, and voila, the story was born!