Glamour

Glamour

A Story by Sophie McN
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This is the story for my creative writing class assessment so please leave reviews and comments!

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The glitz and sparkle, the red carpet, the crisp clicks and flashes from the cameras. It just didn’t excite me but my mom lived for it. We had just came home from the premier of Pretty Little Head. It was only my third movie and I was already sick of sing, dancing and acting.

“Are you wearing your new high heels tonight?” My mom asked with her thick New York accent as she curled my thin, blonde hair.

“Those things hurt! Can’t I just wear my jelly shoes?” I whined.

“No! You’re a big girl now, Chloe. Wear the stilettos. You need to look presentable for the after party,” my mom snapped while roughly backcombing my roots.

She painted bright red lipstick across my small mouth, clipped earrings into my tiny pierced lobes and dressed me in an expensive pink dress and fur coat. She pinched my dimpled cheeks and admired her pretty pink creation.

“I don’t really want to go. I’m tired. Can’t we just stay home and watch Cinderella? It’s on TV later” I moaned.

“No! We can’t pass up an opportunity like this. We have been invited to a party at Studio 54! Do you even know what that means?” my mom scorned.

I shook my head and shrugged.

“It’s the best nightclub in the world! Think of all the- eh, agents. There will be lots of people there from the industry who could make you the star of another movie. Wouldn’t that be great?”

I feigned a smile and nodded.

*

Mom hurried inside, giddy with excitement, dragging me through the towering sweaty crowd behind her. The Sunset Strip of Las Vegas was condensed and intensified into miniature within only a few rooms to create the legendary Studio 54. The latest disco music was blaring and vibrating from gigantic speakers and giving me a kaleidoscopic headache. The main hall was a hazy extravaganza of curly, shaggy hair, disco balls, balloons, streamers, sequins, flared trousers, afros, celebrities, flashing multi-coloured neon lights, girls dancing on podiums, acrid candyfloss smoke oozing from fog machines, masses of party-goers, curtained VIP booths, drag queens, drug dealers and the musical elite playing live on stage. At one point, a waiter offered us snow-white cocaine presented impeccably on a silver plate as if it was caviar. There was no mistaking this place.

The first hour of the party was a stressful blur of handshakes and congratulations. I was then ushered into a packed VIP booth to meet film director " Ted Portman.

“How old are you again, sweetheart?” he asked with a voice as greasy as his hair.

Ted was a sleazy plump man with a big moustache. He was wearing tinted yellow sunglasses and an eye-wateringly tight, cheap, beige suit.

“I’m eleven and a half,” I hesitantly answered as I retreated away from him and took a large gulp of Jack Daniels.

“Wow. You’re very talented for such a little girl. You are beautiful too, Chloe,” he said as he stroked my arm. I could almost feel slime festering on my skin where he had touched.

“Would you like some sweets?”

Ted had a handful of little smiley faced blue pills. I frantically looked over to my mom but she was busy knocking back champagne and flirting with a stranger. I called to get her attention but she just glanced over, flicked back her curly red hair and continued to dance.

I gave in, as I usually did, and picked up five tablets. They crunched in my mouth like polo mints. I had grown to like the blue ones. A dazed, numb feeling descended like mist over my head.

Ted lit a cigarette and popped it into my mouth while his associates scraped together lines of cocaine with credit cards. I anxiously scanned the room for my mom but she was gone. I inhaled deeply from the cigarette and pungent smoke flooded my adolescent lungs as my tears threatened to spill over.

I was fed more pills and cocaine that burned my nose and quickened my heart rate. Ted continued to mumble propositions in my ear as the headliners, Chic, took to the stage.

Ah, freak out! Le freak, c'est chic. Freak out!

My mom finally immerged and stumbled over from the crowd.

“Mom, can we go home now, please? I feel sick,” I pleaded as I held her wrist tightly with both hands.

“But I’m, am having fun! Aren’t you?” she slurred.

“No! Can we please go home now?” I sniffled as my voice cracked.

I yearned for her to pick me up and give me a cuddle but she just laughed, ruffled my hair and bounced back over to the dance floor as I cried for her. Moments later, I lost almost all control over my body and speech.

“Shh, it’s alright sweetheart. So, would you like to work for me?” Ted asked with a wink.

I tried to enunciate ‘no’ but all I could only manage distorted mumbles. From his jacket pocket, Ted brought out a needle with a brown liquid inside the barrel.

No! Don’t let him! Run away! I thought.

But I couldn’t move. I was slouched against the couch with my makeup smudged, my feet bleeding, my neck flopped to the side, saliva trickling from the corner of my mouth. My mind was screaming for help, trapped inside a comatose body.

Ted took off his belt, wrapped it around my thin bare arm and pulled tight.

“N- No! I want… Mom,” I eventually whimpered but Ted just shushed me.

“No! Not that! Leave her alone! Get off her!” I heard my mom screaming.

“Mom? Mommy, help me!” I sobbed hysterically.

I felt a sharp scratch in the crook of my arm. The needle pierced through my wispy skin and into my throbbing vein. Ted drew some of my blood back into the barrel before pushing the plunger down and flushing dirty, sickly sweet heroin into my limp arm that rapidly slithered into and poisoned my system.

© 2014 Sophie McN



My Review

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Featured Review

Whoa.. what a place to bring a child. Did she die? This was is the 70s 80s, I could tell it was back in the day from the fur coat and pinched cheeks but then the time was more specified by the people in the club.. oh that poor little girl. It was a great story it made me feel a whirlwind of emotions painted a scene in my head too

Posted 3 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Sophie McN

3 Years Ago

she didn't die but I kinda left that ambiguous because I wanted it to seem like the end of something.. read more
Meraki

3 Years Ago

Her childhood and innocence died that's evident in the story and I applaud you for this.



Reviews

Whoa.. what a place to bring a child. Did she die? This was is the 70s 80s, I could tell it was back in the day from the fur coat and pinched cheeks but then the time was more specified by the people in the club.. oh that poor little girl. It was a great story it made me feel a whirlwind of emotions painted a scene in my head too

Posted 3 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

Sophie McN

3 Years Ago

she didn't die but I kinda left that ambiguous because I wanted it to seem like the end of something.. read more
Meraki

3 Years Ago

Her childhood and innocence died that's evident in the story and I applaud you for this.
There are a few typos, just ignore them!

Posted 3 Years Ago



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170 Views
2 Reviews
Added on February 23, 2014
Last Updated on February 23, 2014
Tags: child star, glitz, glamour, drugs, mother, daughter, family, love, 1970s, studio 54, nightclub, party, alcohol, addiction, acting, singing, dancing, makeup, high heels, heroin, needle, crime, sad

Author

Sophie McN
Sophie McN

Ayrshire, Scotland, United Kingdom



About
I'm an undergraduate English Literature and Creative Writing/Journalism student at the University of Strathclyde in Glasgow. I'll post some of my uni work here and some other short stories/poems too. .. more..

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