I admit, I've been remiss in my Flash! Friday entries for a couple weeks, but now that the first draft of G&H is finished, and Muse awaits readers' feedback, it's time to dive back in! Luckily, this week's dragon bidding is fairly simple: including a dancer in a 150-word (+/- 10) story on this photo:
Miserable little twits.
In my day, we could dance and smile. We knew the importance of pleasing the crowd, eliciting their cheers and chants, and cries. We were proud to be chosen, to be honored by the Council.
I used to run to practice in my little leotard — never a second late. When they doled out our immaculately white dresses with the poufy skirts, I listened to every word of their instructions. We never got those pretty bows for our heads, but we still knew to smile.
The parade down the streets was our beginning. All those years of classes, the dedication; we were the best, and that dance was our farewell to the humdrum life.
Nothing like this year’s girls — undisciplined and unappreciative.
Our parents cried too, but we knew to smile, dancing as our city’s only hope.
These wretches aren’t fit to sacrifice.