She knew what lay at the bottom of the ramp – a glittering party to showcase her mother’s newest art. She could hear the laughter, the clink of the glasses, the clickety of stiletto heels on stone tiles. Her mother, the great artist  whose eye for beauty, they cooed, came from her own magnificence. Raven haired, amethyst-eyed, tall, thin, yet with ample breasts, straight spine, long legs – all often semi-exposed in designer clothes.

Did they know about her one failure, Glissia, wondered, limbs twisted, bound in her wheelchair, face half paralyzed, one eye clouded. Should she show them now? {100 words}


For Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields who is Addicted to Purple

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

© Lorraine