The Dance – Sunday Photo Fiction

AnElephantCant boogie woogie
He can’t skip the light fandango or turn cartwheels across the floor
When he tries to dance
Folk look at him askance
Take him by the trunk and politely show him the door

This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Joe Owens.
Just click on the link to see a tumultuous tango of torrid tales in response to this week’s excellent prompt.
But please first cast an eye over AnElephant’s wobbly waltz.

Copyright Joe Owens

The Dance

I don’t have a partner for the dance, of course.
I never have a partner for anything.
Girls don’t like me, because I am big and awkward and I don’t speak well.
Everyone says I am ugly.
I laugh, pretend I don’t care, but it hurts
But I go to the Christmas Ball anyway, just to see her.
I know she will be the most beautiful girl there, and that she will smile at me and say hello.
She always does.
I don’t ask her to dance, I can never speak to her, she is an angel.
And she is with Rodney.
I hate Rodney.
He is so smart, so rich, so smug.
I always want to punch him, but I never do.
That might upset her.
I watch her dancing, she is so graceful, so elegant, so wonderful.
I think he has been drinking, he upsets her.
She slaps his face, leaves in tears.
He runs after her, shouting.
Everyone is watching them, laughing and pointing.
No one sees me follow them.
She takes the path through the park, a short cut to her home.
He catches her there.
I hear them shouting, crying.
He is shaking her, so I hit him.
He falls down, does not move.
She starts to scream.
She calls me a monster, a beast, and other bad words.
I put my hand over her mouth to make her stop.
She stops.
I carry both of them into the woods.
Bury them.
Separately, of course.
He does not deserve to be with her.
She looks so pretty in her ball gown.