Stalky's Nightmare 1: Stalky Takes the Stage
Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?
The player piano began the "Yoo Hoo" song: Stalky's cue.
Her sibling held the curtain aside as she made her way to center stage, her right arm in the costume's sleeve, and her left supporting the large, mostly-hollow head. It was warm and muggy, and Stalky could hardly see, but she dared not pause. With a well practiced grapevine step, she and the spotlight met, and the dance began. A troubled dance, always difficult, especially when she was weary. She wished she had free will and the right to exercise it, like her friend Bryar had. But there was no rest or second chance here. Hers but to do or die.
The dance began, a variation on the Charleston dominating the steps, but with other moves and gestures built into the never-changing routine. Never-changing, at least, until the boss was taken with another plan. The massive, sharp-collared prop head wobbled on her slender shoulders with every bobbing step. It cut deeper and deeper into her tender flesh, and her left hand did what it could to support the weight.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
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