Tight Squeeze

maybe, she twirls, the dress does not look right, the mirror is full length, she stands there, head left head right, head up head down, doesn’t feel right, damn, she marches to the bedroom, a bundle of clothes on the bed, she reaches into the press, what now she sighs, four to choose from, she’s a size eight, wants to be a seven, grabs the navy jump suit, quickly changes, returns to the mirror, half an hour later, she makes up her mind. A pout of the lips, cool she smiles, on her way to an awards ceremony, wants to look her best. Whats the hurry, in traffic, taxi driver watches her reaction in the mirror, hyped up chick or what, she is hopping, can’t this bus go faster, is getting nervous, the delay is killing her.  what’s the rush!.

famine chick, in her small tent, the aid convoy hasn’t arrived yet, was promised a week ago, will it hurry up, her child is cramping with the hunger, the water milk diet not sustaining enough. She doesn’t mind, it’s her child she worries about.

I’d like to announce the winner of the new female singer of the year, and the winner is, she bursts in the door, the audience turns around, the noise she makes would scatter a flock of birds. her day is made, she arrived on the stroke of recognition, the fuss with the make up and stuff worth the wait.

She pulls her hair, ringlets, cutie, she fawns for the audience, opens her mouth the way all the bright teeth people do, pauses. i would like to dedicate my award to the ..

The child is crying, she is fraught with anxiety, she holds the baby, one eye on the door, a miracle she pleads, how can i stop the suffering of my little child. She shakes the baby, talking to the wee one all the time, she’d feed him from her breast, but they are hard and tight, no milk in there, she needs to feed to provide for the young one.

i’d like to thank my agent, and my family for getting me this far, without them i would have got nowhere.  She bursts out crying, the emotions too much, success has come at last.

Without food there was nothing she could do. The dead bundle is cold, she sits on the floor, wailing.

Anyone for canapes!

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s