dance with me?

dance with me?

A Story by V M Smith

I saw a small figure sitting tightly against the garage door.  As I turned and looked back at the road I realized who it was.  Stopping on the side of the road, I settled the engine and walked back quietly.  Sure enough, there she was, tears catching the little light from the half moon high above us.  I stood at the end of the short driveway for a moment, looking for a reaction.  Slowly, I walked up to her and kneeled before her.  She was trying to hide in the wall behind her, turning her face hard to the left so I could barely see it hidden in the shadows.  As I put my hand around the bottom of the bottle in her hand, she pulled it closer to her chest.  I pulled gently whispering, “You don’t need this” until she let go. Though she was hiding her face, I could see her close her eyes tight in pain. 


Slowly I sat to her left against the garage and looked at the half empty bottle in my hand, twisting the bottle, swirling the liquid.  Too many times I had sat just the way she was now.  Trying to numb the pain, or trying to mask it.  I heard her whimper quietly and shift closer to the wall.  Slowly I moved closer to her.  “Why are you here?” she asks quietly.


“You looked like you need company,” I reply with a sad smile.  Turning toward me finally, she rests her head on the wall and looks at me and nods.  I smile and stand up.  Stretching my hand down to her I say, “Teach me to dance.”  She smiles and looks at me.  Arching an eyebrow, she grabs my hand and lets me pull her up.  Still holding her hand, I walk out into the driveway.  I show my hands palms up and shrug, “Where do these go?”


She just laughs and looks around, “We don’t have any music.”  I shrug and wave my hands a little, wiggling my fingers.  She looks at me and sighs, “On my hips.”  I tentatively place my hands on her hips as she hangs her hands from my shoulders.  She takes a step to my left and I follow suit.  Then she leans toward me and I take a step back as she steps forward.  I stumble as we move to my right but we laugh it off nervously. 


Another step back for me as we turn slightly so my back is now to the house.  Another step to my left, then she pulls me to take a step toward her.  I step forward and notice she had only stepped back slightly.  Thinking I had gone forward too much I move to take a small step back, but she holds my shoulders where they are.  Grasping her thoughts behind it at last, I laugh nervously and rest my forehead on her shoulder and mumble, “I get it now.”  Embarrassed at how slow I am, I pull my head up and look into her pained green eyes, “Sorry.”


© 2013 V M Smith



Author's Note

V M Smith
I fully appreciate reviews, especially when they tear apart my work in an attempt to make it better. Rip, tea, break it down. Tell me how you do not like it, how to make it better. I want your opinion. Truly.

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Reviews

I enjoyed reading this very much. It was original but more than that, it was written very very well. Your mechanics are impressive. The imagery was pristine. Thank you for your submission! :o) Keep up your writing. It is a rare ability you possess. Hone in on it and expound...you'll go very far indeed.

Posted 6 Years Ago


This is kind of cute. I think you have the basic premise for another great story here but I don't think it will be great on its own. I would like to see what you do with it though.

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

i kinda get it i guess.............. thanks for entering my contest..................... i wish it was a bit longer........... but it was a nice piece...................

Posted 9 Years Ago


1 of 1 people found this review constructive.


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218 Views
3 Reviews
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Added on August 30, 2008
Last Updated on August 9, 2013
Tags: dancing, depression, story, drinking, sweet, relationship, love, music, company, teach

Author

V M Smith
V M Smith

OR



About
i'm not a writer; i am a liar. i sometimes write far too specifically; i sometimes write so vague even i lose track of what it is i'm on about. i tend to write when i can't think. this seems to be.. more..

Writing

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