Other stories for this prompt

Beatirix shuddered as a cold wind whipped across the stage, and she clasped her hat tightly to her head. Stage fright had her firmly in its clutches, but an outdoor performance only increased her anxiety. What was she thinking? Singing in the shower was one thing; this was totally different. She imagined the sea of faces before her and felt her heart beating even faster. Her breath caught in her throat at the thought of him in the audience. What would he think? Would he think her a fool, an artist, or a lunatic?

As the audience murmurs rose at...

"Hello?"
There was nothing on the other end of the line but silence. "Hey, can you here me? Is anyone there?" Martin waited. "I didn't imagine it, did I?" He hung up. He grabbed his bag of food, and went outside, when he stopped for a moment, then turned back to the cash register and emptied it. Besides about $200 there was also an old picture inside, showing three women. Martin inspected the time stamp. Sept. 20th 1922. Just then, he heard a "BING..." as the atomatic doors opend.

me and my sister have always been fighting. scince the day we could walk we always fought untill now. we were walking looking for a perfect gift and we saw it ....... the black dress. i always loved to try and make new fashions out of things yet my sister always followed the rules. if your dress was a millimeter too short she would tell. i had decided already that i was going to get the dress and make a new one but my sister would not let that happen . she wanted it for my mother, my mother was...

An unknown figure watched Mery and Arthur McGee as they shopped in main square. Mery, hair tied back, long coat wrapped around her to fight the cold, a scarf tucked around her neck, approached the front store window and glanced in awe at the woman behind the glass. Her hair coiled around her face in romantic ringlets, and her long black dress oozed with classic beauty.

"Arthur, isn't this dress marvelous? Look at the color, and the sweeping length. I must have it, Arthur. I must." Mery said in delight.

Arthurt, her husband, was less than enthused. "Dear, it's...

Victoria and her sister Elizabeth spent their Sundays in the shopping district of their small town, on what they called their "promenade," saying the word in the closest thing they could affect to a french accent.

They would start in cafes and sip teas or coffees, nibbling shortbread, or butter cookies. They would each attempt to look both beautiful but also very bored, and would study each other for comparison later on.

When their cups were empty, they would walk, slowly, and purposefully along the narrow cobblestone streets. Looking in the window display of the second-hand and conscription stores and...

For a short time before television, people walked past store fronts to satisfy their lust for fantasy and projection. No actors, just mannequins, so a little more imagination was required. There was also some exercise, and words that more closely resembled conversations in between the fantasies.

Accordingly, Robert and Ruth were able to have a different life than their analogs 50 years later, Sam and Shirley. Ruth knew she could not afford the dress. Shirley assumed they could earn the money later. Robert and Ruth raised their children together. Sam and Shirley were separated before the second child was a...

My mother was not svelte. She spent her life washing clothes, lifting children, and hauling sacks of potato and flour from the market to our small apartment in Flushing. My father frequently looked at the Sears catalog, commenting on the models within. "Why don't you look more like this one?" he would ask, as though the answer weren't obvious. My father did not look like Marlon Brando (young), and my mother did not look like Marlene Dietrich. Yet somehow, I never heard my mother ask my father why he didn't look like this one. Long suffering, some might say.

She...

The mannequin stared at me again, just like it did every morning.

It was the same this morning as every morning. My route would pass in front of the shop; the same steely look from that dummy. I didn't want to admit it to my older sister, but there was something about that look that made me completely afraid. "Come on, you!" she said. "Stop your dawdling, we're going to be late again, and every time we're late, it's all your fault. Come on!"

I glanced over my shoulder at the mannequin once more. I was sure, this time. Something...

In this world there is no pain, no disappointment. No one can hurt her here.

In this world she's in control. People look up to HER. They LOVE her. They admire her beauty and style and uniqueness. In this world she can be as silly as she wants.

She can break all the rules and STILL be looked up to as Role Model.

In this world there is no pain, no disappointment. No one can hurt her here. She is a child as well as an adult. She is a hero. An angel. A warrior.

Anything she dreams off, she...

Silent minutes ticked by. Neither of them spoke.

The wind gusted and Eloise pulled her coat closed. Daphne closed her eyes and sighed.

"Do you have any cigarettes?" said Eloise.

Daphne shook her head.

The dress, the hats, the purse - such a pitiful display. Not even any shoes. Before the war, Mme. Rocharde would have been laughed out of Paris for such a thin broth as this.

Now, though, when even this little rag of a dress was eight weeks wages....

Their shift at the factory started soon, but the sisters spent a few more minutes looking in the...