A flash fiction story, telling the tale of a troubled runway model.
As Charlie took a swig of rum to help force the tablet down, her eyes were transfixed on the mirror.
“How could anybody love… this?” she thought to herself.
All Charlie could focus on were the large pores taking over her pale skin, white yet florid. The slight crook in her nose prominent in the center of her face, thanks to her little brother breaking it when they were play fighting as kids in the garden. Charlie noticed her eye brows were too full “I need to do something about this mess”, she exhaled deeply as a larger than life voice interrupted her thoughts.
“30 seconds ladies!”
She smiled, focusing for a moment on her disproportionate lips — the top much too thin, and the bottom far too plump. Destined to never be kissed. She pulled herself away from the mirror and pulled on the heavy dress, the material thick and itchy on her bare skin. As she turned to head out, she turned back to the mirror for one final second.
“Show Time” she whispered to her reflection.
As she followed her colleagues from the dingy dressing room and into the spotlight, she felt the roar of the crowd in her veins — brash and unforgiving, as she stepped onto her runway, she felt her thoughts melt away into a puddle in the back of her mind.
Charlie used all of her energy to strut down the catwalk, her face as stern as the lights baring down on her, as she made it to the end of the catwalk, she paused and stared into the dark abyss ahead of her, before spinning on her heels and heading back towards the safety of her dressing room.
As she took her final steps behind the curtain, a sense of peace came over her, her head was, finally, clear and her heart felt light. She smiled once more as she fell to the ground. The soft beating in her chest lessened, and her worries disappeared. As her body lay lifeless, her colleagues stepped over her, one by one, walking out into the bright lights with not a care in the world.