The Dancer and the Mannequin

word count = 300



In the dressing room, Cynthia spilt coffee on her snowy gown for her small town’s evening’s performance of Giselle.  In desperation, she fled to the city for a replacement. 

After pressing the department store top elevator button, she found herself on the attic floor.  Hundreds of mannequins filled the expanse.  Flowing skirts and traditional pink tutus lined in front of faraway mirrors.  Drawn to them, she passed mannequins modeling sportswear, coats, and evening gowns. 

Cynthia jumped when the elevator door closed.  She looked at it with unease; nevertheless, pushed by urgency, she headed for the ballet section, near the mirrors.

Halfway there, she heard a noise and turned around.  She spied a mannequin, with a top hat, she didn’t remember passing.  Odd, she thought.

Near the mirrors, to her amazement, stood a mannequin dressed in flowing white – the perfect substitute gown. 

Looking around and seeing no one, she tried it on.  In the mirror, she noticed the mannequin with the top hat.  It seemed closer.

She walked to it and inspected it.  He appeared real, yet he stood stone still with his unnerving, painted grin.  Considering herself foolish, she donned the slippers from her purse.  Dressed in her role as queen of the Wilis, the sprite who doomed young men to dance until dying of exhaustion, she gazed in the mirror.

Swirling and pirouetting, her subconscious caught a knife’s glint in the mirror.  The closer the phony mannequin drew, the faster she twirled. 

Soon he was twirling – out of control.  Around and around, he danced.  Dropping the knife, he spun and leaped with weary limbs.

Cynthia, lost to the queen, grabbed his arms, twirling him around, listening to his bursting heart, until at last, it beat no longer.

Opening a hidden door in the back, she placed him with the others.