Flamenco Mysteries

I have been reading Agatha Christie lately as well as J D Robb.  While they are very different authors for some reason I seem to be in a mystery fix - possibly because I have run out of paranormal romance to read at the moment.

So it didn't really come as a surprise when I was writing today and produced this:

The hallway was silent as Maresol walked briskly up the ramp leading to the back stage waiting area. She tapped her right foot nervously – a habit not even her dance teacher could have thwarted - her nailed flamenco shoes striking the wood flooring with a metal sound. She looked up at the wall clock then began stretching her arms and legs in preparation for her number. When she felt limber she breathed in...out...in...out... in...before one final large breath out steadying herself. She glanced at the wall clock again. Two more minutes until she was on. She began pacing the room her shoes making the same metal clacking sound as she strode around the room.

Tonight was Maresol's first ever solo flamenco dance. She thought about her routine as she paced the small waiting room. She imagined the order of her stomping and steps in her mind as her arms moved around her elegantly, wrists turning slowly. She could hear the music of the girl before her coming to and end. She flicked her skirt a couple of times. Warming up her arms once more twirling them around her then rolling her shoulders and neck then walking out of the room towards the stage.

The stage hand called her thirty second warning. She moved to her entrance place near the front of the stage her heart thudding in her chest. The girl before Maresol was just finishing her dance and the music that was pumping Maresol's heart stopped. She strode onto the silent stage with an air of confidence she didn't quite feel. “Confidence makes flamenco dancer more beautiful” her dance teacher used to remind her. She thought of her teacher's words as she took her place centre stage. Maresol stood in a fearsome flamenco pose, one arm raise up slightly in front of her face, fingers delicately held above her head. The other arm holding part of her skirt, she waited under the heat of the stage lights for her music to start.

Started it did and she was off. Stamping, clapping, twirling, turning, and sometimes even kicking with the rhythm and beat of the Spanish guitar player and band that played her song.

Anyone who was there would have said of all the new potentials that night Maresol's dance was the most riveting. She drew the crowd into her story of gypsy woe with her powerful presence and use of the stage. If Maresol could have seen the people through the bright lighting she would have seen women crying and men's eyes glistening with sadness and remembrance. As it was, all she heard was very loud clapping and some shouting when she had finished, but she knew she had done well.

She smiled with her whole self then lifting her skirt slightly she took a deep bow, savouring the moment of her first successful solo. She knew she wanted many more nights like this.

She returned backstage to a group of girls silently clapping her performance as she walked as calmly as she could to the changing area. Maresol was jumping out of her skin with excitement that she had done so well, she just knew it. She would get a place in the Sevillanas Dance Company. This entire evening's show was an audition to get a place in their company. She had practised for years for the possibility of being chosen for one of three places they offered each year to young women flamenco dancers, and damned if she wanted it now more than ever.

She packed her bag with her black dance shoes, crimson flamenco skirt, dance top then pulled out the white flower from her hair and placed it in the bag carefully. She stepped into a pale blue slip dress which made her look more Spanish and let her curly black hair fall down her back. She came out of the dressing room in her evening casual dress, almost ready for the drinks with the SDC owners.

She sat down in front of a mirror to put on some make-up but instead began reflecting on the show and how well it had gone. Other girls moved in and out of the dressing room congratulating her on such an astonishing performance. Maresol tried to be encouraging to the other girls saying things like: they would get a spot with the SDC and she doesn't know if she got one of the revered places, but she silently prayed to be chosen by the SDC.

She realised after a time sitting in front of a mirror putting on her mascara that she was alone in the dressing room. Her dance had been towards the end of the night so it was not a surprise that the other girls were already changed and heading to the end of show drinks.

Maresol began quickly packing away her cosmetics, checking one last time in the mirror how she looked. Stunning, she thought. She turned around to rush to the gala when a hand came up muffling her scream.

I am not sure where its going or even if it will go anywhere after this but I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading.

Have a great weekend - I know I am going to - role playing all weekend here I come!!!