Red Gown (Part 1)

Today was a very long day. I am experiencing writer’s block. So, I leave here the first part of my first ever fictional short story.

“Twenty minutes! Twenty minutes!” yielded the stage manager assistant, rushing by Audrey‟s room.

“I can‟t do it!” I said to myself. “I don‟t believe I‟m up to this” susurrantly added in a tumbled, dispirted manner.

“Don‟t freak out!” a voice replied to my barely audible utterance from the bottom of the slightly lighted, eight-foot squared dressing room. “You‟ll be just fine. You’ve been waiting for this quite a while” added a blonde haired, white, slender man from one of the room‟s corner. It was Gregg, my high-school sweetheart and long-time boyfriend.

“That‟s why I’m frightened!” I replied to his words of encouragement, glaring inconstantly every corner of my face from the mirror image, enquiring for any blemishes.

“I’ll be wearing the dress. She’ll be looking down at me tonight,” I supplied, fixing my sight toward my reflection. Neither Gregg nor the outer loud noise seemed to send me off from my woeful amusement. “I should wait until I can get it perfect. I don’t feel good. This makeup makes me look like a mummified clown,” I evidenced in discontent.

“No way! It‟s tonight! You must do it tonight!” Gregg cried impatiently while he stood up and approached closer toward me.

“Nobody will notice me leaving!” I replied haltingly, staring apprehensively desperate at him from my mirror reflection.

“I will! You will, and as a matter of fact she will,” whispered while his hands squeezed my shoulders.

“Don‟t make this about her!” I pleaded, dropping a tear attempting to ruin my make-up and holding off my time to hit the stage.

“I must” Gregg paused, releasing my shoulders from his stiff grip. He studied my eyes; adding, “She is the reason why you’re here… why I’m here and why the dress is here. You know that”

“But…” he sharply cut me off before even trying to assure my apprehension once more. “There’s no room for more buts. You owe to us.” He distraughtly exclaimed, retrieving and leaning against the doorway.

We both remained silent under the dawn-like lighted room, illuminated only by the light-bulbs surrounding the mirror. Each of us flipped into our intimately reflections of the case.


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